Dear Readers,
In this special edition of the newsletter we pause to honor the life of Amanda Feilding, who passed away this week. She was a pioneer and a mentor of mine, so it is with tender heart I share with you these words of remembrance. Please send a prayer of love her way as she transitions into the stars.
In everything we trust,
Sylvia
I was starstruck the first time I met Amanda Feilding. Here she was, in the flesh—the woman who had almost single-handedly inspired the entire psychedelic renaissance. A legend in the field, a true pioneer who advocated for the research of their benefits long before most of us were born.
Her background was noble, hailing from a British family who embody the very essence of noblesse oblige across their bloodline. She had not been afraid to defy the society she had been born into by not just speaking about—but living—the psychedelic lifestyle. She was a painter, an artist, a dreamer, but most of all a researcher, draped in bohemian glamor, hosting huge lawn parties at her estate… all while doggedly catching anyone she could, in any conversation at any time, to illuminate in great scientific detail why we should all be paying attention to psychedelics.
Amanda spoke a billion words—prayers—into the universe over her entire lifetime, all so we could benefit today.
With Amanda’s leadership, her foundation initiated groundbreaking studies on substances like LSD, psilocybin, MDMA, and ayahuasca. Collaborations with institutions such as Imperial College London and Johns Hopkins University led to significant findings on the therapeutic potential of these substances for conditions like depression, anxiety, addiction, and PTSD. She also co-authored over 80 peer-reviewed papers, including the first brain imaging studies on LSD and MDMA, as well as research on psilocybin-assisted therapy for nicotine addiction.
I had been asked to advise the board of one of the companies born out of her family’s legacy: Beckley Retreats. Beckley offers science backed, legal retreats using mushrooms, along with breathwork, meditation, and wellness protocols for personal transformation. I traveled to Jamaica for one of the first retreats, and Amanda was in attendance.
I felt shy around her at first. She radiated a warmth, intelligence, and absolute freedom that made me think to myself that I wanted to be just like her when I ‘grew up’.
However, it was only when we were together in that first ceremony that I could see who Amanda truly was. We were in a sacred container—a healing and sharing space—while ingesting psilocybin. I was “working” the ceremony, helping the attendees with any support they might need. As a result, I was sitting at the front of the room, facing all the participants.
Right across from me was Amanda. As she entered psychedelic space, what emerged from her was her truest nature. Her inner child exploded with joy, giggling and joking so much that several times we… ummm… tried to discipline her.
Good luck chastising the Queen of the Psychedelic Renaissance in a psychedelic ceremony. As hard as she tried, that inner child would sneak back out in all her beautiful naughtiness.
Finally, we put on a banging medicine song—“Israel Song” by Carioca. Amanda loved it. She danced, delighted by the music. I played right back to her, dancing with my macaw fan. When the song ended, I entered a meditative state and felt Amanda’s presence. I was going to serve on her board, and here I was serving her in ceremony.
I wanted to know—what transmission of hers would she want us to carry? So I closed my eyes and asked her, soul to soul:
“What would you teach me? What essence of truth would you have me learn from your life, and carry on?”
The question took me even more deeply to her inner child. Her teaching wasn’t stillness—it wasn’t complicated. It was pure. Underneath the personality that loved to talk about science and psychedelic fundraising was this child. She was running in the verdant, dark green, damp forests of her family’s home, oblivious to the cold and the clouds. She was lost in awe at the curl of a fern on a spring morning, caught by surprise in a field ringed with deer. She was talking to a dragonfly over a pond in the heat of August.
She was a magical child who came to this planet to play—and to remind us that to be human, truly, we must remember to play. Play is the opposite of tyranny. Who will we be without it?
She was Amanda, and she taught me to play. I will always remember all the stories told by those who love her. She lived more in a year than most of us do in a lifetime—insatiably voracious for experience—so her stories were truly legend.
May we all leave behind a thousand magical stories.
I pray she is reunited with Birdie, and that there is LSD in heaven.
