After a hiatus of a couple of decades, after losing my wife and career, I started taking psychedelics again. The first time was during the summer with a very close high school friend up at the Michigan cottage. The two disasters had recently occurred and I was reluctant. He, a companion on previous trips long before, had the acid at hand and was gently encouraging. In the morning, upon awakening, on empty stomachs, we took the stuff and headed for the woods and the beach.
I had expected utter misery because I'd been miserable myself for many months. As it was, although the sad, so-familiar-as-to-be-tedious thoughts came to mind, they passed and instead what I did was to marvel and give thanks for this clement world, my healthy body and my companion's enduring friendship. Compared to such grace, my fears and disappointments seemed to count for little. It was a beautiful day and remains ever close in memory.
Since that time I've continued experimenting on about an annual basis and reading up on the various psychoactives available. Houston and Masters' book had been on the shelves since I'd given up reading much on the subject years before. Basically, a phenomenological study of the range of psychedelic experiences reported to or experienced by the authors, I found the book rather boring. Houston and Masters don't write as well as their model, William James, and they don't do the work he did in relating contemporary phenomenology to historical precedents.