A clinical trial led by Peter Hendricks, Ph.D., shows that psilocybin, a naturally occurring psychedelic compound in magic mushrooms, is safe and effective in treating cocaine use disorder, or CUD. @UABHeersink Learn more: buff.ly/eIhLufa

Australia’s Drug Regulator Loosens MDMA and Psilocybin Access Regulations Australia’s drug regulator has eased access rules for MDMA and psilocybin therapy, aiming to reduce red tape and expand treatment options for patients with PTSD and treatment-resistant depression.

GROUNDBREAKING addiction study: 52% of smoking addicts receiving psilocybin therapy (magic mushrooms) quit smoking at 6-month follow up compared to 25% in the nicotine patch group. Psilocybin group had 6x higher odds of staying smoke-free compared to control group. Johns Hopkins scientist @drug_researcher shares his new revolutionary study. Full podcast: youtu.be/PkrJNj9iKQQ?si=hg4-…

“What we’re seeing today is actual evidence from well-conducted clinical trials that [psychedelics] have a strong therapeutic potential—that they have a potential to do things that our traditional medications haven’t been able to accomplish.” - Tiffany Farchione, FDA Division of Psychiatry Director

If I Had a Healthy Child Today, I Would Go Unvaccinated Until Age Four. Here's the Reasoning. Almost all critical neurological development happens before age four. Vaccines are far safer when given later in life and metered out individually — not in large combination batches. Risk stratification matters: a child born without a spleen needs certain vaccines immediately. A perfectly healthy child in normal circumstances does not face the same calculus. That's not an anti-vaccine position. That's medicine applied to the individual in front of you. Join the Fight: mcculloughfnd.org Courtesy of Culture Apothecary with Alex Clark @realalexclark @TPUSA Watch the Full Episode: rumble.com/v79wtos-dr.-peter… #MedicalFreedom

LIVE FROM THE OVAL: President Trump Announces Historic Reforms to Accelerate Access to Medical Research & Treatments Based on Psychedelic Drugs "Since 9/11, we've lost over 21 times more veteran lives to suicide than on the battlefield... today, we're bringing them new hope."

The highest intelligence is

A study shows psilocybin works by scrambling your sense of self. A groundbreaking study from Washington University followed healthy volunteers who received a single high dose of psilocybin while researchers monitored their brain activity before, during, and for weeks afterward. The results were striking. Rather than simply changing perception, psilocybin profoundly desynchronized the default mode network (DMN)—a key brain system responsible for self-reflection, memory, and our sense of identity. During the peak experience, this network essentially fell apart. Remarkably, subtle alterations in its functioning continued for up to three weeks afterward. The stronger a participant’s psychedelic experience—marked by awe, ego dissolution, and feelings of connectedness—the longer these brain changes persisted. Scores from a standardized questionnaire assessing the depth of the mystical-type experience aligned closely with the degree of DMN disruption observed in brain scans, confirming that psilocybin’s transformative effects are rooted in measurable neurological shifts. This temporary “unplugging” of the default mode network may explain why psilocybin shows therapeutic potential for conditions like depression and PTSD, where the DMN is often rigidly overactive. By breaking entrenched patterns—even briefly—the brain appears to gain an opportunity to rewire itself in healthier ways. Researchers emphasize, however, that these findings come from controlled clinical settings. Psilocybin remains unapproved by the FDA for general use and carries real risks when taken recreationally or without medical supervision. ["Researchers Uncover How Psilocybin Works in the Brain." Psychiatrist, 2024]

From FB: I know the exact pressure it takes to crack a rib during CPR. But last Tuesday, I learned a patient’s silence can break a doctor’s soul. His name was David Chen, but on my screen, he was "Male, 82, Congestive Heart Failure, Room 402." I spent seven minutes with him that morning. Seven minutes to check his vitals, listen to the fluid in his lungs, adjust his diuretics, and type 24 required data points into his Electronic Health Record. He tried to tell me something, gesturing toward a faded photo on his nightstand. I nodded, said "we'll talk later," and moved on. There was no billing code for "talk later." Mr. Chen died that afternoon. As a nurse quietly cleared his belongings, she handed me the photo. It was him as a young man, beaming, his arm around a woman, standing before a small grocery store with "CHEN'S MARKET" painted on the window. The realization hit me like a physical blow. I knew his ejection fraction and his creatinine levels. I knew his insurance provider and his allergy to penicillin. But I didn't know his wife's name or that he had built a life from nothing with his own two hands. I hadn’t treated David Chen. I had managed the decline of a failing organ system. And in the sterile efficiency of it all, I had lost a piece of myself. The next day, I bought a small, black Moleskine notebook. It felt like an act of rebellion. My first patient was Eleanor Gable, a frail woman lost in a sea of white bedsheets, diagnosed with pneumonia. I did my exam, updated her chart, and just as I was about to leave, I paused. I turned back from the door. "Mrs. Gable," I said, my voice feeling strange. "Tell me one thing about yourself that’s not in this file." Her tired eyes widened in surprise. A faint smile touched her lips. "I was a second-grade teacher," she whispered. "The best sound in the world... is the silence that comes just after a child finally reads a sentence on their own." I wrote it down in my notebook. Eleanor Gable: Taught children how to read. I kept doing it. My little black book began to fill with ghosts of lives lived. Frank Miller: Drove a yellow cab in New York for 40 years. Maria Flores: Her mole recipe won the state fair in Texas, three years running. Sam Jones: Proposed to his wife on the Kiss Cam at a Dodgers game. Something began to change. The burnout, that heavy, gray cloak I’d been wearing for years, started to feel a little lighter. Before entering a room, I’d glance at my notebook. I wasn’t walking in to see the "acute pancreatitis in 207." I was walking in to see Frank, who probably had a million stories about the city. My patients felt it too. They'd sit up a little straighter. A light would flicker back in their eyes. They felt seen. The real test came with Leo. He was 22, angry, and refusing dialysis for a condition he’d brought on himself. He was a "difficult patient," a label that in hospital-speak means "we've given up." The team was frustrated. I walked into his room and sat down, leaving my tablet outside. We sat in silence for a full minute. I didn't look at his monitors. I looked at the intricate drawings covering his arms. "Who's your artist?" I asked. He scoffed. "Did 'em myself." "They're good," I said. "This one... it looks like a blueprint." For the first time, his gaze lost its hard edge. "Wanted to be an architect," he muttered, "before... all this." We talked for twenty minutes about buildings, about lines, about creating something permanent. We didn't mention his kidneys once. When I stood up to leave, he said, so quietly I almost missed it, "Okay. We can try the dialysis tomorrow." Later that night, I opened my Moleskine. I wrote: Leo Vance: Designs cities on paper. The system I work in is designed to document disease with thousands of data points. It logs every cough, every pill, every lab value. It tells the story of how a body breaks down. My little black book tells a different story. It tells the story of why a life mattered.