Psychedelics, Neuroscience, and Decoding the Mathematics of the Soul

Bicycle Day, and the Question It Doesn’t Ask

April 19—Bicycle Day—is often honored with reverence. It marks the day Albert Hofmann, after taking LSD intentionally for the first time, rode his bicycle home through the streets of Basel. That ride changed the world. Not because he saw colors or patterns, but because he saw that consciousness could be altered. That what we perceive as reality is anything but fixed.

The psychedelic renaissance—spanning medicine, spirituality, and art—is a direct descendant of that moment. And it’s produced wonders: new treatments, ancient insights reborn, and profound stories of healing.

But as we celebrate these substances, I’d like to offer a playful challenge:

What if the soul—the psyche—is real, structured, and mathematical?

And what if mathematics, not molecules, is the most direct path to understanding how it actually works?

Psychedelics Open the Door—But to What?

Psychedelics change how we see. They loosen the fixed frames of our default mode, dissolve the edges of identity, and reconnect us with something vast—sometimes terrifying, sometimes loving, always mysterious. They can disrupt trauma loops, reopen emotional access, or momentarily quiet the ego.

But they don’t explain why the psyche exists. They don’t reveal what the soul is made of, or what its function is. They show us that perception is filtered—but they don’t show us the filtration system. And certainly not the source code.

They offer a glimpse beyond the veil—but leave us wondering what exactly we’re seeing.

That’s not a critique. That’s their nature. A psychedelic is not a philosophy. It’s not a map. It’s an event. It raises the right questions—but doesn’t supply the answers.

And to make sense of those questions, we need a language.

The Soul Has Syntax

This is where mathematics comes in—not cold and sterile, but radiant and revelatory. A different kind of psychedelic. A trip, yes—but not into hallucination. Into structure.

If the psyche is real—not an epiphenomenon of matter, but a structured entity in its own right—then it must obey principles. And if thought is structured, then it has syntax. It has topology. It has geometry.

Mathematics lets us study the soul. Not just experience it, but model it.

Psychedelics reveal possibilities. Mathematics shows how those possibilities work.

And I’m not the first to suggest it. This builds on the work of much greater thinkers—Pythagoras, Descartes, Leibniz, Hegel, and Hockney—whose ideas I explore and synthesize throughout my work. The notion that the psyche is mathematically structured has deep roots. I’m just trying to link it more fully to neuroscience.

Are We Healing, or Becoming?

This distinction matters. Because it begs the question: What are we really trying to do with psychedelics?

Are we trying to feel better? To escape pain? To cope more effectively? That’s valid. But there are many ways to do that—therapy, meditation, even entertainment.

Or are we trying to evolve?

Are we answering a call—not just from our trauma, but from our potential?

If so, then we have to ask: Where are we going? What does it mean to evolve? Toward what end?

This is where we return to something many traditions have pointed to in their own ways: the soul’s movement toward unity. The idea that healing is not an end in itself, but part of a larger trajectory—a return to coherence, within the self and across the whole of existence.

What some spiritual traditions have called divine union, what mystics have called the One, what Rousseau described as the General Will—these are all expressions of the same underlying pattern. And it’s not just poetic. It’s logical. If we are fragments of a larger mind, then the natural movement of consciousness is toward reintegration.

The soul isn’t just trying to feel good. It’s trying to resonate—with itself, with others, with the greater whole. With a cosmos that is structured, intelligent, and alive.

To do that, we must understand the psyche—what it is, how it functions, and how it becomes whole. Not metaphorically. Mathematically.

Psychedelics shake the snow globe. Mathematics reveals the blueprint.

From Symbol to Structure

In my own work, including in QEEG and neurofeedback, I’ve seen how distorted brainwave coherence maps to psychological fragmentation—how trauma, dissociation, and emotional dysregulation emerge not from “bad thoughts” but from broken signal relationships. Phase disruptions. Misaligned frequencies.

We’re not just blobs of feeling. We’re living wavefunctions. Structured, but dynamic.

Psychedelics often amplify this complexity. They can temporarily “unjam” the signal, allowing buried material to surface. But without a framework, that material can just confuse us—or worse, reinforce existing narratives.

Mathematics, by contrast, gives us something repeatable. Predictable. Testable. It doesn’t contradict the visionary. It decodes it.

If psychedelics show us the symbols, mathematics shows us the syntax.

Molecule and Mindform

This isn’t about choosing between tools. It’s about understanding their purposes—and how they might work together in ways we’ve barely begun to imagine.

Psychedelics expand our perception. They invite us into symbolic states, dissolve boundaries, and reconnect us with felt truths long buried beneath cognition. They can crack the shell of rigid identity and let something new begin to grow.

Mathematics, meanwhile, offers us the structure to hold what arises. It gives form to insight. It shows us how thought works—how the psyche, or soul, is composed, harmonized, or dissonant. It’s not a replacement for mystical experience. It’s the ground upon which it can become coherent.

If psychedelics are sacred, so is syntax. If visionary experience gives us glimpses of the soul, mathematics helps us speak its language.

These aren’t opposing paths. They’re two aspects of the same quest.

Toward the Psychedelic Logos

As we reflect on Bicycle Day and the psychedelic legacy it launched, we might consider this:

Psychedelics can help us feel the soul. Mathematics may help us understand it. And if we’re serious about becoming—not just feeling differently, but evolving consciously—then bringing the two together may be essential.

Alex Grey once described LSD as a kind of philosopher’s stone—a sacred molecule capable of revealing higher realities. And in a certain sense, that’s true: it cracks open perception, exposes hidden dimensions, and reminds us of mysteries modern life often forgets.

But traditionally, the philosopher’s stone wasn’t just an instrument of revelation. It was a decoder—an agent of transmutation. Not just a glimpse of the divine, but a method to become it.

So if psychedelics let us peer behind the veil, mathematics may be the stone that lets us read what’s there—a syntax for the soul’s evolution. A structure that can guide transformation, not just initiate it.

Perhaps mathematics is the first true psychedelic. Not because it bends perception, but because it reveals the architecture of mind itself.

And perhaps the future of awakening isn’t just about expanding consciousness— but learning to organize it.