Originally Published in Revista Ulises
I dedicate this article to Albert Hofmann and his Problem Child, because without them I would never have touched the infinite. Originally published in Revista Ulises
Some years ago, back in 1996, when the Internet was still largely uncharted territory, those of us navigating the Net and getting lost in its web—between dropped dial-up connections and seemingly impossible downloads—could scarcely imagine what it offers today.
At that time, websites dealing with drugs were scarce, and reliable information in the Spanish-speaking world was practically non-existent. The crown jewels of the English-language scene back then were a visually rudimentary Hyperreal, packed with vast archives of information and trip reports (now integrated into Erowid), and Lycaeum, with extensive botanical and pharmacological databases and photo galleries.
In 1997, the first Spanish-language websites on psychoactives emerged: Mundoenteógeno, which opened the path from Granada; El ciprés, created by Joaquim Tarinas, which eventually evolved into what we know today as Librería Muscaria, becoming the premier psychoactive bookstore on the Web. That very same year saw the launch of Psiconáutica, founded by the undersigned, which has survived to this day. Back then, owning an independent web server or a registered domain name was an unattainable luxury. Mundoenteógeno was hosted on Geocities and Psiconáutica on Tripod, both free web-hosting services with impossibly convoluted URLs that were painful to type or memorize: http://www.geocities.com/HotSprings/2938/index.htm and members.tripod.com/~rauldelpino
((From here on, dear reader, if you are not curious about the personal motivations that led me to create Psiconáutica, feel free to skip to the final paragraph for a concise summary of the Net’s evolution)).
The Origin of a Quest
Let us turn back the clock just a little further, only a few years.
A few years prior, I was racing along the path of excess until I practically drowned in the springs of knowledge. Yet instead of rising like a Phoenix from the ashes, I found myself reduced to a plucked chicken, drenched to the bone. It was this existential crisis and finding myself staring death in the face that compelled me to rethink my entire life, forcing me to chart a new path and seek a rational explanation for what was transpiring within my consciousness—so that I could navigate the world without stumbling at every step and finally find a sanctuary of inner silence.
At that moment, I embarked on a journey guided by a convergence of meaningful coincidences. I immersed myself completely in Eastern philosophy, meditation, and shamanic traditions. A copy of Carlos Castaneda’s “The Teachings of Don Juan” fell into my hands, and frankly, its synthesis of shamanism, Eastern thought, psychology, and psychotropic plants illuminated a new, far more accessible path for me. Achieving Samadhi through purely ascetic means is extraordinarily difficult amidst the relentless din of urban chaos, blaring horns, and relentless party music.
So I buried myself in public libraries; I had an insatiable craving to understand drugs: those very substances I had previously abused solely to escape myself.
I began compiling exhaustive notes and cross-referencing botanical and pharmacological data. I wanted a solid theoretical grounding before embarking on any practical experimentation. It was an entirely solitary pursuit, as I had no Internet access and knew nobody sharing these interests. By 1995, my study documented thirty-five plants and fungi alongside forty psychoactive compounds—more than enough knowledge to begin my voyage.
Self-Exploration and Psychedelic Experience
The time had come to begin; my mind and body were thoroughly prepared. My initial destination was LSD; I wanted to start there because its profound therapeutic and heuristic potential fascinated me. I conducted roughly thirty individual self-trials with LSD, systematically recording each experience in structured logs documenting physical, objective symptoms alongside subjective mental phenomena, both before and after dosing. I always took LSD alone, in quiet contemplation and meditation. That chapter represented the single most powerful period of personal growth in my life, as LSD allowed me to map my internal terrain and peel back the defensive layers of the ego. During these sessions, I experienced radical ego dissolutions that revealed humanity’s ultimate psychological transition: death itself.
Yet not every trial was a success. I recall with some melancholy the first time I tested MDMA, sitting rigidly in front of my computer screen. My notes from that session recorded only nausea, dizziness, and a frustrating absence of empathy or euphoria. Only much later did I discover the extraordinary empathic power of this substance—an invaluable therapeutic tool for sincere seekers.
Over the years, I experimented with a wide spectrum of entheogens and plant medicines, individually and in combination, sometimes soaring into celestial realms and at other times dragging through personal purgatories, encountering profound sensory joy alongside violent nausea, vomiting, poisoning, and harsh physical side effects.
My interest gradually converged on the synergy between psychedelics, contemplative meditation, and transpersonal psychology. While I do not dismiss recreational use, I believe the true significance of entheogens lies in their role as essential catalysts for personal maturation and communion with our inner core, though experience has taught me to handle these powerful tools with caution. I believe that since the dawn of humanity, the use of these substances has marked an important shift in how we perceive ourselves and our surroundings, offering modern modalities of consumption that open a fascinating horizon within our understanding of the human psyche. We have transitioned from plants and fungi to a wide spectrum of novel designer compounds crafted to open the doorway dissolving human duality—this chronic feeling of estrangement and separation from all things. Yet in every instance, the essence of the psychedelic experience remains ecstasy, in the original etymological sense of the word: “to withdraw the soul from the body.”
The Birth of Psiconáutica
Amidst all this, I felt an urgent desire to share what little I had learned and forge connections with others walking a similar path. One day, I picked up a computer magazine detailing step-by-step how to design a website and upload it to a server. I immediately recognized this medium as the ideal channel to disseminate harm-reduction information and share experiences. In a very rudimentary fashion, I launched Psiconáutica with large psychedelic buttons and animated GIFs, accompanied by a slogan inviting fellow islanders to join a local community called “Canarias Psicoactiva.” As it turned out, I never met anyone locally interested in the subject, but I quickly connected with kindred spirits across Spain and Latin America who offered encouragement and sustained the project.
Over the years, the website has allowed me to form enduring friendships with people who understood these experiences without judging me as crazy—an invaluable comfort that eased my isolation.
In 2000, I revamped the site with a modern design, structured navigation, and expanded thematic sections. Since 1997, Psiconáutica has welcomed nearly two million visitors—averaging roughly seven hundred daily—inspiring me to continue this educational work. My long-term dream remains the creation of an extensive open database covering psychoactive compounds, transpersonal psychology, shamanism, and ethnopharmacognosy, co-created by researchers across the globe.
Today, the landscape is transformed. Scores of exceptional Spanish-language drug information sites and discussion forums thrive, the culture of grow shops and smart shops has matured, and modern digital networks have accelerated information exchange. The Internet has fulfilled its greatest promise: uniting individuals around common goals, fostering open dialogue, and building collective knowledge for generations to come.
Raúl del Pino
www.psiconautica.org
