The Tumor Heals Me: Psychedelics and the Radical Remission Roadmap

I don't like my tumors.

There. I said it. After twenty years of living with cancer, after eleven surgeries and seven months of chemotherapy, after relapse and remission and relapse and relapse and relapse... I still don't like the masses of malignant cells that keep trying to kill me.

And if you're like me—if you despise the cancer that invaded your body and upended your life—you're in good company. Most people living with cancer don't embrace their tumors. We fight them. We fear them. We resent them for what they've stolen from us.

So when I sat down for a podcast conversation with Ashley Lukens, a cancer thriver who has been working with psychedelic medicines for years, and she told me her mantra was "I heal my tumor and my tumor heals me," I had to sit with that for a moment.

Most of us stop at the first part. We focus exclusively on healing the tumor. Getting rid of the cancer. Eliminating the disease. But Ashley goes far beyond that. She's taken the mass of malignant cells in her brain—cells that could have killed her—and embraced that tumor as a source of healing.

Stop and think about that for a second. The tumor heals her.

This perspective didn't come easily. And it didn't come from a single psychedelic experience. It came from years of sustained work, facilitated in part by psychedelic medicines and grounded in a specific framework: the book Radical Remission.

The Diagnosis That Changed Everything

Ashley's journey began in an unexpected place. She was on a ten-day women's health retreat in Peru, having been experiencing strange visual auras that flooded her vision. She'd Googled her symptoms—as modern humans do—and learned she either had a brain tumor or ocular migraines.

"Being the optimist that I am, I chose ocular migraine," she told me. "I didn't want to follow up with a doctor because I had this retreat."

On that retreat, she participated in her first ayahuasca journey. And in that journey, she had a vision.

"I had this vision that I was going to get really sick and die," Ashley explained. "And I had this image of myself on my couch, letting go."

Five days later, she came home and found out she had a brain tumor. She was just beginning her psychedelic integration when she got the news.

"I sort of approached it existentially," she said. "I mean, when you do psychedelics, you are in your impermanence. And so I got this diagnosis of low-grade brain cancer as something that was happening to my body, but not to me. I am forever."

This perspective—that cancer was happening to her body but not to her essential, eternal self—created space for a different relationship with the disease. Not denial. Not toxic positivity. But a fundamental reframing of what cancer meant and what healing could look like.

The Playbook That Became a Path

Shortly after her diagnosis, someone sent Ashley a "how to have cancer workbook" created by another woman in her social circle who had been diagnosed with late-stage breast cancer. That workbook recommended a book: Radical Remission by Kelly Turner.

"So that book became my cancer playbook," Ashley said. "So I was on ayahuasca, found out I was gonna die, died, was reborn, found out I had this cancer diagnosis and read this book that said miracles are possible. I was like. ‘Okay, nine key factors. I got this. I am going to take every single one of these key factors so seriously.’"

For those unfamiliar with Radical Remission, it emerged from research by Kelly Turner, who studied cases of radical remission across all cancer types. Rather than looking at specific tumor types, she asked: what did these cases of unexpected healing have in common? After her exploration, she identified nine key factors.

Ashley actually wrote a white paper examining the scientific literature connecting psychedelics to these nine factors. [You can read Ashley's full analysis here—it's a fascinating deep dive into how psychedelic medicines align with Radical Remission principles.]

"In the nine key factors, only two of them are what you would think, like change your diet and take supplements," Ashley explained. "The rest are psycho-spiritual. They're really about finding your reason for being alive."

This is crucial: Radical Remission isn't primarily about alternative cancer treatments. It's about psychological and spiritual dimensions of healing. And that's precisely where psychedelic medicines may show their greatest promise.

From Intuition to Embodied Knowing

One of the nine factors that Ashley emphasized repeatedly was following your intuition. But for her, it goes deeper than just listening to gut feelings.

"For me, it's about trusting yourself," she said. "I come in and tell my brain surgeon. ‘This is what I'm going to do. This is what I want. I believe in my body.’"

This embodied trust is hard work for people living with cancer. Our bodies betrayed us. The cells that were supposed to function properly started growing out of control. The immune systems that were supposed to protect us failed to recognize and eliminate malignant cells. How are we supposed to trust bodies that literally tried to kill us?

But Ashley's work with psychedelic medicines helped her reconnect with her body's wisdom. That first ayahuasca journey—where she intuitively knew something was wrong—became a foundation for trusting her body's signals throughout her cancer journey.

"My body knew I had a brain tumor," she reflected. "Obviously it was responding, but I just didn't know. So, of course, in a psychedelic experience, my body would be sending these images to me."

This intuitive knowing showed up in practical treatment decisions. After months of chemotherapy, Ashley felt done. Her doctors wanted her to continue for a full year, but her body was telling her something different.

"I was like, I'm done," she told me. "And so I brought my case to the tumor board and I said, ‘This is what I'm going to do. I'd like your feedback, but I don't think I'm gonna go standard of care.’"

Her doctor responded: "Yeah, I really respect your decision. I think it's the right one for you."

This is the model of empowered patient decision-making. Ashley didn't defy her doctors. She listened to her body, consulted individual physicians, presented her case to the tumor board, took all that feedback, and then made an informed decision for herself.

"If I had felt nervous that I don't have the right educational training to substantiate what I felt fully in my body, I would have not advocated for myself," she said.

Psychedelic medicines didn't give her medical expertise. But they did help her reconnect with her body's innate wisdom and trust it enough to advocate for herself within the medical system.

Purpose as Medicine

Another Radical Remission factor that psychedelics illuminated for Ashley was having a strong reason for living—finding purpose beyond just surviving cancer.

"Psychedelics truly taps you into your soul self," Ashley explained. "And it is that soul self that is expressed in how we build a life. And it is that soul self that is repressed when we are not living in our Dharma or our purpose."

She described a visceral, embodied experience: "You can actually physically feel when you're out of alignment with your soul's purpose."

This isn't abstract philosophy. It's about building a life worth living, not just extending survival. It's about asking what your cancer diagnosis might be inviting you toward, not just what it's taking away.

For Ashley, cancer became "this invitation to radically change my life and lean full-throttle into my own healing and awakening."

Most of us don't initially see cancer that way. I certainly didn't. When I received my terminal prognosis, all I could see was what I was losing. My future plans. My career goals. Time with loved ones. Life itself.

But what if—and I'm still working on this myself—what if cancer could also be an invitation? Maybe not a blessing we asked for. But perhaps an uninvited catalyst for examining what matters, for living more intentionally and finding deep purpose.

The Transformation Paradox

Here's something crucial that Ashley emphasized: psychedelic medicines weren't a magic bullet that instantly transformed her relationship with cancer.

"I don't want people to think like I'm gonna take some mushrooms tomorrow and I'm gonna turn around. It's a practice," she said. "But it's certainly a major tool in the toolkit."

She was explicit about the broader context: "I didn't do psychedelics in a vacuum. I have a therapist. I have a coach. I have years of introspection so that a psychedelic experience could yield what it yielded for me."

Years of introspection. A therapist. A coach. Sustained practice. Psychedelics are a one-time panacea that fixes everything immediately. But they can be a start for deep, ongoing work.

In fact, Ashley worked with a Jungian analyst three times a week for ten years to process trauma—another of the Radical Remission factors. The psychedelic experiences happened within that larger framework of committed healing work.

"Psychedelics didn't get me here," Ashley said clearly. "It just showed me the work I needed to do so that I could heal."

This distinction matters. Psychedelic medicines aren't cures for cancer. They're not even cures for the psychological suffering that accompanies cancer. They're catalysts. They're teachers. They're tools that can help us see the work ahead—but we still have to do that work.

Reframing the Treatment Itself

One of the most powerful examples Ashley shared was how she approached chemotherapy. "I remember when I did chemo, I researched the doctor that invented the chemo. And I made this little altar with him," she told me. "I would tune into all of the positive energy that these researchers put into this medication. And that was what I ingested. I didn't ingest the pharmaceutical. I ingested all that hard work. All that tenacity. All of that good intention."

This is profound reframing. Chemotherapy wasn't poison. It was concentrated intention for healing. It was decades of research translated into medicine. It was human ingenuity and compassion distilled into treatment.

"I just chose to turn every step in that journey into magic," Ashley said.

I'll be honest: I struggle with this. After seven months of chemotherapy that made me vomit constantly, that destroyed my quality of life, that left lasting damage—it's hard for me to see chemo as magic. It saved my life, yes. I'm grateful for it, yes. But magic? That reframing feels almost impossible to me. 

And that's okay. Ashley's perspective isn't prescriptive. She's not saying everyone should feel this way. She's sharing what worked for her, what psychedelic medicines helped her access. Ultimately, I’m so inspired by Ashley’s perspective. 

The point isn't that we all need to love our tumors or embrace our chemo. The point is that reframing is possible. That different relationships with cancer and treatment are available. That psychedelic medicines can help us access perspectives that transform suffering—even if they don't eliminate it.

The Mantra That Says Everything

"I heal my tumor and my tumor heals me."

Most of us stop at the first part. We focus on healing the tumor. Shrinking it. Eliminating it. Getting rid of the cancer that invaded our bodies.

But Ashley goes further. The tumor heals her.

"For me, cancer was the best thing that ever happened to me," she told me. "I would never give it up. My cancer was like this invitation to radically change my life."

I can't honestly say I feel that way about my cancer. After twenty years, I still resent what it's stolen from me. I still fear the next relapse. I still wish this hadn't happened. But I'm starting to see possibilities. Starting to recognize ways that cancer has cracked me open. Starting to appreciate perspectives I never would have gained without this uninvited teacher.

And psychedelic medicines have been part of that slow evolution for me. Not a cure. Not a magic transformation. But a catalyst for seeing differently. For finding meaning in suffering. For accepting mortality while still fighting for life.

Ashley's work with psychedelic medicines and the Radical Remission framework gave her access to a perspective that transformed her relationship with cancer. Not everyone will get there. Not everyone needs to. Our cancer journeys are unique, and we each get to create our own narratives.

But for those of us exploring psychedelic medicines as part of our healing journey, Ashley's experience offers a roadmap. The nine factors in Radical Remission. The sustained commitment to inner work. The integration support. The willingness to keep showing up for the hard psychological and spiritual work.

Psychedelic medicines can facilitate this work. They can help us access intuition. They can reconnect us with purpose. They can show us the healing we need to do. They can help us reframe our relationship with cancer and treatment. But they don't do the work for us. We still have to show up. We still have to put in the time. We still have to walk the path.

The tumor might not heal you immediately. You might never get to the place where you see cancer as a blessing. And that's completely fine. There's no right way to have cancer.

But if you're curious about whether different perspectives are possible—whether psychedelic medicines might help you find meaning in suffering, access your intuition, reconnect with purpose—Ashley's journey suggests the answer is yes.

The work is hard. The work is long. The work requires support and commitment and courage.

But the work is possible. And for some of us, the work is worth it.

Let's journey together.

For more on psychedelic medicine and cancer support, including links to Ashley's white paper on Radical Remission, reach out to our community at community@healingcancerjourneys.org