What Five Years in Addiction Recovery Taught Me About the Power of Healing Arts and Experiential Design

What Five Years in Addiction Recovery Taught Me About the Power of Healing Arts and Experiential Design

Working in addiction recovery for five years has been one of the most transformative experiences of my life. It has opened my eyes to something profound about human nature—something at the very root of both our deepest struggles and our potential for healing and growth. What I’ve come to understand is that euphoria, peak experiences, and states of awe are not just fleeting moments of joy or temporary escapes; they are fundamental to our psychological well-being. These experiences aren’t selfish indulgences—they are essential needs that we all deserve to experience, and without them, we cannot truly thrive.

As I reflect on this, a vivid memory comes to mind. I was a young child, lying on the rooftop of my grandparents' house in the desert. The warm air carried the faint scent of sand and earth, and I could feel the rough texture of the old blankets beneath us. My father lay beside me, pointing out the Milky Way, his voice a soft hum against the vast silence of the night. I squeezed his hand out of sheer excitement, my heart racing as the stars stretched endlessly above us, so, so far away, yet in that moment, I felt closer to him, to the universe, than ever before. It felt as though my entire being was expanding, as if I could feel the stardust we were made of swirling within me. I couldn’t quite put it into words then, but I knew I was part of something immense, timeless, and beautifully mysterious.

These days, that same magical night sky is barely visible, hidden behind the air and light pollution of our crowded cities and towering highrises. I’m grateful that so many people have safe homes and I can’t deny the breathtaking view from my friend’s 20th-floor apartment overlooking Houston Downtown. But at the same time, it reminds me of how much we’ve lost—those simple, awe-inspiring moments with nature slipping further out of reach.

I often think about the large oak tree in my neighborhood, a towering 50-year-old beauty, that not too long ago was replaced by a stop sign. The sunlight used to dance through its leaves, casting a golden glow on the street below. It created a sense of wonder, as squirrels chased each other up the branches and birds performed their daily show. While I know that stop sign has probably saved lives, I still wonder—could we have saved both the tree and the lives? Could we have designed something more biophilic, something that honored both human safety and the magic of the natural world?

This idea echoes what I see in recovery. We’ve lost touch with the awe that once flowed naturally from our connection to the world around us—through nature, community, and a deep sense of belonging. In the absence of these grounding experiences, many find themselves seeking moments that mimic that wonder, often through altered states of consciousness. These states offer a fleeting glimpse of something profound, a sensation of expansion that feels both foreign and familiar, as if touching a deeper truth. The yearning for those moments is deeply human, a search for meaning and transcendence. Yet, the paths we choose to access them can sometimes lead us astray, offering temporary relief while pulling us further from the lasting fulfillment we seek.

I’ve come to understand that substances, technology, and even AI are powerful tools that can either benefit or harm us, depending on how we use them. The way we apply these tools serves as a mirror, reflecting our subconscious desires and revealing our mental states. When we use substances or design technologies that prey on our need for adrenaline or addiction, we’re giving away something crucial about our shared condition—what we crave and how we think.

But here’s the key: the choice is ours. We can choose to build environments—whether in our workplaces, homes, schools, or entertainment—that glorify fear, addiction, and the rush of constant stimulation. Or we can choose to build environments of awe, wonder, and harmony—spaces that support healing, connection, and beauty. Do we race to the bottom, or do we rise to create something for the benefit of all?

And unlike the past, when such ideas might have been written off as utopian fantasies, today we have the tools and science to back this vision. With new technologies, we can measure the impact of these experiences in ways we’ve never been able to before. This is no longer just about imagining "all the people sharing all the world"—as much as I love that concept. Now, we can measure what we create. We can quantify the effects of awe on our nervous systems, measure the outcomes of immersive, biophilic environments on human well-being, and gather hard evidence to support the design of spaces and experiences that heal.

This ability to quantify makes all the difference. It moves us beyond dreaming and into action, allowing us to create environments that aren’t just beautiful or inspiring but measurably effective. We can now design physical and digital spaces where healing isn’t left to chance but is supported by evidence and research, where art, nature, and immersive experiences are woven into the fabric of daily life in ways that we know benefit human health and well-being.

Imagine walking into a healing center designed with these principles in mind. It isn’t a sterile, white-walled clinic or a cubicle-filled office, but a place that invites wonder and awe as soon as you enter. Imagine spaces filled with art, nature, and design elements that are backed by science—proven to help regulate your nervous system, support emotional balance, and foster a deep sense of connection. Imagine places where the euphoria you once sought through substances can be found in the beauty and harmony of your surroundings.

This is what I believe the future of healing and human experience can look like. It’s not just about reclaiming what we’ve lost; it’s about creating environments that offer awe and wonder in ways that heal us—not just mentally and emotionally, but physically as well. The longing for those peak experiences is valid, and we have the technology and science to ensure that the environments we design truly support that need.

The future of healing and transformation lies in our hands. With the tools we now have, we don’t have to settle for environments that glorify fear and addiction. Instead, we can choose to create a world where beauty, harmony, and awe are integrated into the spaces where we live, work, and heal—spaces that are not only inspiring but also evidence-based and proven to benefit everyone.

Ultimately, it’s about what we choose to build. Are we going to continue creating environments that lead us down a harmful path, or are we going to design a future where awe and wonder are part of everyday life—supported by both the qualitative beauty of the human spirit and the quantitative science of what truly works?

Jeffrey Berlin

Public Health Design and Development

1 周

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Steve Slawson

Director - IT and Telecoms / Groupement Berkine, an Oxy JV

2 周

And this is why I moved high up into the mountains…

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