chapter 6

The Set and Setting Model

A state of consciousness may be defined as the subjective space or field within which the different contents of consciousness, such as thoughts, feelings, images, perceptions, sensations, intuitions, memories, and so forth, function in patterned interrelationships. Furthermore, a state of consciousness always implies a definite division of the stream of time between two transition points. For example, we are in the sleep state between the time of falling asleep and the time of waking up. We are in the functional waking state, also called “ordinary state,” between the moments of waking up and of falling asleep. States of drug or alcohol intoxication extend from the time of ingestion to the time of “sobering up” or “coming down.” A meditative state or a hypnotic trance state begins and ends with transitions we may refer to as “going in” and “coming back,” as if crossing some kind of threshold.

Although we can sometimes anchor the subjective state transitions to external objective (clock) time, it is important to recognize that each state has its own subjective time line or timestream. For example, in dreams both time and space are quite different than in the waking state. In a dream we may meet with a beloved person who lives thousands of miles away—and it takes no “real time” to travel to this meeting. Distance in the dream state is not geographical but emotional, a function of affinity and interest. Indeed, in dreams and other deep states we may find ourselves meeting and conversing with someone who is dead—having transcended altogether the space-time boundaries of ordinary reality. At the transitions between states, there is a discontinuity and we switch into a different timestream and a different mindspace.

As I pointed out in chapter 1, the notion of an altered state has acquired a certain connotation of abnormality, perhaps due to its association with drug states, even though we are all familiar with the profoundly different states of dreaming and sleeping. For this reason it is important for us to learn to recognize the times and situations when we are functioning in a markedly different than usual mode—that is, in a different state.

If we can identify the transitions or trigger points when the mode of consciousness changes, we can learn to utilize the positive states according to our conscious intention: for example, a musician or other artist might find that a period of meditation facilitates accessing the flow state that heightens creative expression. Perhaps even more important for our well-being, we must learn to navigate out of negative, destructive states: for example, learning to recognize the verbal triggers for an altered state of rage is an important aspect of anger management in interpersonal relations.

The transitions between different states are intersection points of different time lines, where we can consciously choose to move along another time line into a more expansive space, pregnant with new possibilities. If we don’t choose consciously, then we will be shunted into a different state according to the prevailing winds of karma, or our habitual predispositions.

Some altered states are generally considered positive, healthy, and expansive—associated with deeper understanding and spiritual value: we may think of mystical oneness, ecstasy, transcendence, vision, hypnotherapeutic trance, creative inspiration, erotic union, shamanic journey, cosmic consciousness, samadhi, nirvana, satori. Other altered states are considered negative, unhealthy, and contractive—associated with delusion, psychopathology, destruction, and conflict: we can recognize the altered states of depression, anxiety, trauma, psychosis, madness, hysteria, rage, mania, addictions (alcohol, narcotics, stimulants), and behavioral compulsions and obsessions (sexuality, violence, gambling, spending).

The diagram (page 256) shows what I am calling a heuristic general model of states of consciousness. It is heuristic rather than explanatory in that it offers a framework for thinking about states, rather than a causal theory. The model can also facilitate research on the neural or biochemical changes correlated with different states.

It is useful to think of a kind of spectrum of the scope of change. We may change our thinking—our beliefs, opinions, and attitudes—for example, in reading a book or listening to a lecture, without registering a change of state. Our emotional state or mood may also vary from happy to sad, or “down” to “up,” while still within our normal functional state of consciousness. Even intensely new and different sensations, such as the unexpected taste pleasure of a gourmet meal, or the unexpected distasteful smell of a polluted environment, need not trigger an altered state.

However, when changes in our subjective body image occur together with changes in the perception of time and space, then we definitely recognize a different state. Then, “we’re not in Kansas anymore,” as Dorothy said in The Wizard of Oz when her experiential world was turned topsy-turvy by the tornado. In emergency medicine, questions about our orientation in time and place (What day is this? What place is this?) are used to diagnose the state of consciousness of someone possibly in shock or trauma. The most profoundly altered states are those in which the sense of identity or self-image are abolished: these include the states of ego-death or depersonalization that may occur in psychosis, as well as states of nirvana or oneness that may occur in mysticism.

The key to understanding the content of a psychedelic experience, as formulated by Timothy Leary, Frank Barron, and colleagues (including myself) in the early days of the Harvard Psilocybin Research Project, was the “set-and-setting” hypothesis. This hypothesis, which has been widely accepted within the field, states that the content of a psychedelic experience is not so much a function of pharmacology (i.e., a “drug effect”) but rather a function of the set, which is all the internal factors of expectation, intention, mood, temperament, and attitude; and the setting, which is the external environment, both physical and social, and includes the attitudes and intentions of whoever provides, initiates, or accompanies the experience. The drug is regarded as a trigger or catalyst, propelling the individual into a different state of consciousness or mindspace, in which the vividness and contextual qualities of sense perceptions are greatly magnified.

This hypothesis helped the Harvard researchers to understand how the same drugs could be seen and used as inducing a model psychosis (psychotomimetic), as an adjunct to psychoanalysis (psycholytic), as a treatment for addiction or a stimulus to creativity (psychedelic), as a facilitator of shamanic healing journeys (entheogenic), or even as a truth-serum type of tool, as used by the US Army and CIA for obtaining secrets from enemy spies. Of the two factors of set and setting, set or intention is clearly primary, since the set ordinarily determines what kind of setting one will choose for the experience.

According to the heuristic model I am proposing, we can extend the set and setting hypothesis to all alterations of consciousness, no matter by what trigger they are induced, even those states that recur cyclicly and regularly, such as sleeping and waking. In those cyclical alterations of consciousness, we know that internal biochemical events normally trigger the transition to sleeping or waking consciousness, but external factors may also provide a catalyst. For example, lying in bed, in darkness, triggers changes in melatonin levels in the pineal gland, which in turn promote the transition to sleep. Brighter light and the sounds of an alarm can be the trigger for awakening, also mediated by cyclical biochemical changes. In addition, external factors such as sedative or stimulant drugs, loud noises or peaceful music, and stress or relaxation can also trigger variations in the sleep-wakefulness cycle.

Even the content of our dreams can be analyzed as a function of set, our internal preoccupations during the day, as well as the environment in which we find ourselves. Practitioners of “dream incubation” make deliberate use of that principle, consciously formulating certain questions related to their inner processes or problems, as they enter the world of nighttime dreaming. In the temples of Asclepius in ancient Greece, those who suffered physical or psychic illnesses were guided to incubate diagnostic and healing dreams.

Being conscious of the specific intention, question, or set preceding any trancelike therapeutic or shamanic state is the key to accessing healing and guidance from inner spiritual sources—regardless of whether the particular trance-induction method is shamanic drumming, hypnosis, or an entheogenic plant medicine like ayahuasca. After all, it is obvious that even our experiences in ordinary waking states, such as that of the reader perusing this text, are determined by the internal factors of intention, set, or interest, and the external setting where the reading is taking place.

In the framework of this set-and-setting model, after our mode of conscious functioning returns to the baseline state (which some also call the consensual reality state), comes the time for evaluation and interpretation. Keeping in mind the two transition points—into and out of the altered state—makes it easier to separate the experience itself from our thoughts and judgments about it. Making this separation is the essence of the phenomenological method pioneered by Edmund Husserl and Maurice Merleau-Ponty in philosophy, and by Bert Hellinger in family constellation therapy. It is also the core of mindfulness (vipassana) meditation practice, where you just observe and note your thoughts, feelings, and sensations, but do not analyze, track, or evaluate them.

Evaluative judgment is usually the first and immediate reaction after any altered state—for example, that was a bad trip or bad dream, or this was a wonderful or inspiring experience. Researchers in neuroscience have discovered that evaluative feeling judgments originate in the mammalian limbic system (especially the amygdala) and may be an evolutionary residue of an instinctual survival reaction to perceived threat. Evaluative judgments do not convey much information about an experience, however. How much do you really learn about a film, for example, when your friend merely tells you that she liked it or that it was terrible?

A crucial aspect of what follows an altered state experience is its application and integration, or lack thereof, into one’s ongoing life. We need to go beyond first judgments and associative interpretations, and ask ourselves, what does this experience mean to me or what do I learn from it? Does a mystic vision of oneness with the divine lead to a morally better, happier, and more saintly life? Do the insights from a healing vision or dream lead to a problem resolution? Does the depressed state I’m experiencing mean I have a depressive personality, or is it a temporary reaction to a stressful situation?

An Exercise in Altered State Recognition

This is a self-reflective exercise I have often used in my classes on altered states of consciousness. Pick one positive and one negative altered state experience from your recent experience, perhaps within the last year. (I suggest you don’t pick two different drug experiences, but have at least one of the two involve a nondrug catalyst.) Then, for each experience, having identified the trigger, ask yourself what was your set—the inner mood, expectation, or intention; and what was the setting—the physical and social context of the experience?

You will probably find that recognizing the intention and context of the altered state can give you significant insight into the phenomenology of the experience, as well as your subsequent interpretation of it. Even those familiar with psychedelic drugs, where set and setting factors are particularly known to be important, often tend to attribute differences in their experiences to the different chemistry of different drugs, rather than look to the intentions and contexts.