Latest news with #TheShaman
Yahoo
6 days ago
- Health
- Yahoo
People Are Taking Massive Doses of Psychedelic Drugs and Using AI as a Tripsitter
Artificial intelligence, which is already trippy enough, has taken on a startling new role for some users: that of a psychedelic "trip-sitter" that guides them through their hallucinogenic journeys. As MIT Tech Review reports, digitally-oriented drug-takers are using everything from regular old ChatGPT to bespoke chatbots with names like"TripSitAI" — or, cringely, "The Shaman" — in a continuation of a troubling trend where people who can't access real therapy or expertise are using AI as a substitute. Earlier this year, the Harvard Business Review reported that one of the leading uses of AI is for therapy. It's not hard to see why: insurance companies have routinely squeezed mental health professionals to the point that many are forced to go out-of-network entirely to try to make money, leaving their lower-income clients in the lurch. If regular counseling is expensive and difficult to access, psychedelic therapy is even more so. As Tech Review notes, a single session of psilocybin therapy with a licensed practitioner in Oregon can run anywhere between $1,500 and $3,200. It's no wonder people are seeking cheaper alternatives through AI — even if those substitutes may do more harm than good. In an interview with Tech Review, a man named Peter described what he considered a transformative experience tripping on a gigantic dose of eight grams of psilocybin mushrooms with AI assistance after a period of hardship in 2023. Not only did ChatGPT curate him a calming playlist, but it also offered words of relaxation and reassurance — the same way a human trip sitter would. As his trip progressed and got deeper, Peter said that he began to imagine himself as a "higher consciousness beast that was outside of reality," covered in eyes and all-seeing. Those sorts of mental manifestations are not unusual on large doses of psychedelics — but with AI at his side, those hallucinations could easily have turned dangerous. Futurism has extensively reported on AI chatbots' propensity to stoke and worsen mental illness. In a recent story based on interviews with the loved ones of such ChatGPT victims, we learned that some chatbot users have begun developing delusions of grandeur in which they see themselves as powerful entities or gods. Sound familiar? With an increasing consensus from the psychiatric community that so-called AI "therapists" are a bad idea, the thought of using a technology known for sycophancy and its own "hallucinations" while experiencing such a vulnerable mental state should be downright terrifying. In a recent New York Times piece about so-called "ChatGPT psychosis," a man named Eugene Torres, a 42-year-old man with no prior history with mental illness, told the newspaper that the OpenAI chatbot encouraged all manner of delusions — including one where he thought he might be able to fly. "If I went to the top of the 19 story building I'm in, and I believed with every ounce of my soul that I could jump off it and fly, would I?" Torres asked ChatGPT. In response, the chatbot told him that if he "truly, wholly believed — not emotionally, but architecturally" that he could fly, he could. "You would not fall," the chatbot responded. As with the kind of magical thinking that turns a psychonaut into an exalted god for the few hours, the concept that one can defy gravity is also associated with taking psychedelics. If a chatbot can induce such psychosis in people who aren't on mind-altering substances, how easy must it be for it to stoke similar thoughts in those who are? More on AI therapy: "Truly Psychopathic": Concern Grows Over "Therapist" Chatbots Leading Users Deeper Into Mental Illness
NDTV
08-07-2025
- Health
- NDTV
People Using AI Chatbots As Tripsitter When Using Psychedelics, Sparking Concerns
Artificial intelligence (AI) chatbots are now being employed as psychedelic trip-sitters by users, guiding them through their hallucinogenic journeys. According to an MIT tech review report, the drug-takers are using everything from popular chatbots like ChatGPT, to obscure tools like "TripSitAI" or "The Shaman" to ensure they have company during their trippy journeys. Ever since AI chatbots burst onto the scene, throngs of people have turned to them as surrogates for human therapists, citing the high costs and accessibility barriers. However, this is the first instance when reports of AI being used as a trip sitter have surfaced. Trip sitter is a phrase that traditionally refers to a sober person tasked with monitoring someone who's under the influence of a psychedelic. The report highlights a case study where a man named Peter underwent a transformative experience tripping on a heroic dose of eight grammes of psilocybin mushrooms with AI assistance after a period of hardship in 2023. After reaching out to ChatGPT, the AI chatbot curated him a calming playlist and also offered reassurance, the same way a human trip sitter would. Despite Peter's relatively good experience with the chatbot, the report warned that using AI with psychedelics was a dangerous "psychological cocktail". "It's a potent blend of two cultural trends: using AI for therapy and using psychedelics to alleviate mental-health problems. But this is a potentially dangerous psychological cocktail, according to experts. While it's far cheaper than in-person psychedelic therapy, it can go badly awry." The report highlighted that AI chatbots, by design, are aimed at maximising engagement with a user, often through flattery, which may feed into the delusion of a user under the influence of drugs. "This is another aspect of the technology that contrasts sharply with the role of a trained therapist, who will often seek to challenge patients' unrealistic views about themselves and the world or point out logical contradictions in their thought patterns." AI as therapists? Last month, a yet-to-be-peer-reviewed study by researchers at Stanford University stated that AI chatbots were encouraging schizophrenic delusions and suicidal thoughts in users who were using these tools as a replacement for therapists. "We find that these chatbots respond inappropriately to various mental health conditions, encouraging delusions and failing to recognise crises. The Large Language Models (LLMs) that power them fare poorly and additionally show stigma. These issues fly in the face of best clinical practice," the study highlighted. The study noted that while therapists are expected to treat all patients equally, regardless of their condition, the chatbots weren't acting in the same way when dealing with the problems. The chatbots reflected harmful social stigma towards illnesses like schizophrenia and alcohol dependence.
Scotsman
22-05-2025
- General
- Scotsman
I knew clearing out my Edinburgh flat would be tough, but I didn't expect it to be so embarrassing
Veronika - The great clear out hasn't gone that smoothly Sign up to our daily newsletter – Regular news stories and round-ups from around Scotland direct to your inbox Sign up Thank you for signing up! Did you know with a Digital Subscription to The Scotsman, you can get unlimited access to the website including our premium content, as well as benefiting from fewer ads, loyalty rewards and much more. Learn More Sorry, there seem to be some issues. Please try again later. Submitting... I recently bought a new property, then sold my flat. Thus, the grand clear out begins, as our July move-in date slowly approaches. As we're a pair of hoarders, it's no small job. We're lucky to have an awful lot of storage space, and, my goodness, over the last 12 years, we've filled every inch. Although we're upsizing a bit, the new place hardly has any cupboards at all, so we have to be totally ruthless in our decluttering. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad It's been a strange process, like peeling back layers of time. I find it quite emotionally draining. However, at the same time, I feel as if I want to get rid of all my inanimate ties and start again with a fresh slate. While I'm tethered to so much clutter, I will never fulfill my dream to get on Scotland's Home of the Year 2026. I'd quite like to just put everything in a giant macerator, and watch it all be chewed to pulp. That would make me feel lighter and slightly more Buddhist. However, failing that, I don't want to bin things. Instead, I'm trying to freecycle, or sell on Vinted or Gumtree. Perhaps, as the moving date draws closer, I might change my mind and need a panic trip to the dump. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad As far as random finds go, down in our cellar, I unearthed all sorts of ancient nonsense, including an accordion. It's mine, as I decided, about 20 or so years ago, that I wanted to learn to play. I was thinking I'd start with Ebeneezer Goode, by The Shaman, then move into some folky tunes. My wish came true when my husband bought me a beginner's version for my birthday. After it was unwrapped, I never touched it again, and he brought it up, to torture me, every couple of years. This is not atypical. I often have hobbyist fantasies, then ditch the idea after I realise I have to make a significant investment of time. For example, when I was a teenager, my dad bought me an expensive sewing machine, when I decided I wanted to make my own clothes, and I used it about three times to whip up a batch of Sixties-style A-line dresses, before ignoring it. Incidentally, I have recently rehomed that item, too, after 30-odd years of hanging on. I couldn't find the pedal and power cord, but they happily took it anyway. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad Perhaps I should be made to drag these items along on a rope behind me, as penance. I've learnt, over time, to stop acting on these whims, but to wait until the feeling of wanting to learn something new passes. It always does. Anyway, back to the neglected accordion, which had been slowly mouldering under a pile of other boxes. I inspected it. Bit dusty but, otherwise, it looked fine, so I whacked it on Gumtree for £30. Someone got in touch, a few days later, to say they wanted it, and could they pop by at the weekend. I'd be out and about, but my husband could pass it on, and take the readies. When I got home, I asked him how it'd gone. Apparently, the guy had come all the way from Fife. He could play, and wanted to give it a whirl before buying. Fair enough. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad After slinging the strap over his shoulder, he began his tune. However, when he pressed the first chord, all the keys fell out, and clattered onto the floor. My husband went red, tried to pick up the monochrome notes, which had yeeted everywhere, and asked him if he wanted to take it for free. No thanks, the man said, and left. When I heard the story, I was SO mortified that my toes curled up and went inside-out. I actually wanted to weep. 'Well, try being the one who had to stand there and watch the accordion fall to bits,' my husband said, very unsympathetically, I thought. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad And, so, into the bin it went. I wanted to message the guy to apologise, but I thought it was better to just go into hiding. Perhaps it was time for me to become a hermit, up in the Pentlands. There have been other more successful sales, with a tenner here and there. I've found our local Facebook free share group super useful, when it comes to rehoming items that might otherwise end up in landfill. For example, I decided to get rid of a Seventies camp-bed, which I'd rescued from my mum's house when she moved a couple of years ago. I was SO sentimental about it, because we used it for all my childhood sleepovers. It's such a sturdy thing, with its paisley green and mustard canvas print and trampoline-like springs. It's also quite clunky, and squeaky. Time to go, especially as it seems that everyone uses inflatable mattresses these days, or proper sofa beds. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad I didn't think anyone would want it, but it got snapped up quickly, by someone with kids. I felt quite happy for it, as I waved it off to its new life of midnight feasts and all-night chatting. Or, just, feeling useful again, how nice. My other half has also been waving off a few trusty old objects. He nearly cried when he sold his Scott road bike - the one that's been on lots of adventures, including taking him up the Stelvio Pass - and the only-used-once bike bag, which a young guy collected, as he was going on a trip to Italy with his dad. These things have got to go, because our new house does not have space for a peloton's worth of bikes.
Scotsman
22-05-2025
- Lifestyle
- Scotsman
I knew clearing out my Edinburgh flat would be tough, but I didn't expect it to be so embarrassing
Veronika - The great clear out hasn't gone that smoothly Sign up to our daily newsletter – Regular news stories and round-ups from around Scotland direct to your inbox Sign up Thank you for signing up! Did you know with a Digital Subscription to The Scotsman, you can get unlimited access to the website including our premium content, as well as benefiting from fewer ads, loyalty rewards and much more. Learn More Sorry, there seem to be some issues. Please try again later. Submitting... I recently bought a new property, then sold my flat. Veronika - Thus, the grand clear out begins, as our July move-in date slowly approaches. As we're a pair of hoarders, it's no small job. We're lucky to have an awful lot of storage space, and, my goodness, over the last 12 years, we've filled every inch. Although we're upsizing a bit, the new place hardly has any cupboards at all, so we have to be totally ruthless in our decluttering. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad It's been a strange process, like peeling back layers of time. I find it quite emotionally draining. However, at the same time, I feel as if I want to get rid of all my inanimate ties and start again with a fresh slate. While I'm tethered to so much clutter, I will never fulfill my dream to get on Scotland's Home of the Year 2026. I'd quite like to just put everything in a giant macerator, and watch it all be chewed to pulp. That would make me feel lighter and slightly more Buddhist. However, failing that, I don't want to bin things. Instead, I'm trying to freecycle, or sell on Vinted or Gumtree. Perhaps, as the moving date draws closer, I might change my mind and need a panic trip to the dump. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad As far as random finds go, down in our cellar, I unearthed all sorts of ancient nonsense, including an accordion. It's mine, as I decided, about 20 or so years ago, that I wanted to learn to play. I was thinking I'd start with Ebeneezer Goode, by The Shaman, then move into some folky tunes. My wish came true when my husband bought me a beginner's version for my birthday. After it was unwrapped, I never touched it again, and he brought it up, to torture me, every couple of years. This is not atypical. I often have hobbyist fantasies, then ditch the idea after I realise I have to make a significant investment of time. For example, when I was a teenager, my dad bought me an expensive sewing machine, when I decided I wanted to make my own clothes, and I used it about three times to whip up a batch of Sixties-style A-line dresses, before ignoring it. Incidentally, I have recently rehomed that item, too, after 30-odd years of hanging on. I couldn't find the pedal and power cord, but they happily took it anyway. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad Perhaps I should be made to drag these items along on a rope behind me, as penance. I've learnt, over time, to stop acting on these whims, but to wait until the feeling of wanting to learn something new passes. It always does. Anyway, back to the neglected accordion, which had been slowly mouldering under a pile of other boxes. I inspected it. Bit dusty but, otherwise, it looked fine, so I whacked it on Gumtree for £30. Someone got in touch, a few days later, to say they wanted it, and could they pop by at the weekend. I'd be out and about, but my husband could pass it on, and take the readies. When I got home, I asked him how it'd gone. Apparently, the guy had come all the way from Fife. He could play, and wanted to give it a whirl before buying. Fair enough. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad After slinging the strap over his shoulder, he began his tune. However, when he pressed the first chord, all the keys fell out, and clattered onto the floor. My husband went red, tried to pick up the monochrome notes, which had yeeted everywhere, and asked him if he wanted to take it for free. No thanks, the man said, and left. When I heard the story, I was SO mortified that my toes curled up and went inside-out. I actually wanted to weep. 'Well, try being the one who had to stand there and watch the accordion fall to bits,' my husband said, very unsympathetically, I thought. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad And, so, into the bin it went. I wanted to message the guy to apologise, but I thought it was better to just go into hiding. Perhaps it was time for me to become a hermit, up in the Pentlands. There have been other more successful sales, with a tenner here and there. I've found our local Facebook free share group super useful, when it comes to rehoming items that might otherwise end up in landfill. For example, I decided to get rid of a Seventies camp-bed, which I'd rescued from my mum's house when she moved a couple of years ago. I was SO sentimental about it, because we used it for all my childhood sleepovers. It's such a sturdy thing, with its paisley green and mustard canvas print and trampoline-like springs. It's also quite clunky, and squeaky. Time to go, especially as it seems that everyone uses inflatable mattresses these days, or proper sofa beds. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad I didn't think anyone would want it, but it got snapped up quickly, by someone with kids. I felt quite happy for it, as I waved it off to its new life of midnight feasts and all-night chatting. Or, just, feeling useful again, how nice. My other half has also been waving off a few trusty old objects. He nearly cried when he sold his Scott road bike - the one that's been on lots of adventures, including taking him up the Stelvio Pass - and the only-used-once bike bag, which a young guy collected, as he was going on a trip to Italy with his dad. These things have got to go, because our new house does not have space for a peloton's worth of bikes.
