Oregon’s Legal Psilocybin Industry: Growing Pains, Healing Gains

When Oregon voters approved Measure 109 in 2020, they made history by creating the first state-regulated psilocybin services program in the U.S. Unlike clinical psychedelic trials or decriminalization measures, Oregon’s approach offers psilocybin for personal development without a prescription — itself a leap into the unknown.

Interest in psilocybin — recreational and therapeutic — is growing rapidly nationwide. But two years after the first service centers opened, the results are mixed: transformative healing for many, steep challenges for providers, and hard-earned lessons other states are now studying closely.

Lucid News spoke with regulators, facilitators, researchers, lawyers, and advocates to understand where Oregon’s psilocybin industry stands — and where it may be heading next.

Two comments were common: psilocybin treatment is not the quick fix many think it is. Newbies seem to think the journey ends when their weekend adventure at the psilocybin service center is over, but integration can require weeks of mental work and conversations with confidants. 

Given the cost, observers say that psilocybin therapy will remain a cottage industry until the health insurance actuaries find cost savings and decide to cover it, like massage and other forms of alternative medicine. 

In part one of a two-part series we talk with people who are part of Oregon’s psilocybin industry and offer their views on the present challenges and future promise of these therapies.

The Rulekeeper

Angela Allbee, Manager of Oregon Psilocybin Services (OPS), under the Oregon Health Authority, leads the regulation of the new psilocybin frontier. OPS records show that as of April 28, 2025, there are 27 licensed service centers, 21 of them renewals. Center licenses cost $10,000 a year. Out of 374 trip-sitters or facilitators, 211 had renewed their $1,000 a year licenses.

“It’s not going too differently from what we initially expected,” Allbee told Lucid News in April. She said the growth of the regulated psilocybin ecosystem in Oregon is slow because it is not a dispensary model, like recreational cannabis in Oregon, where clients can buy a substance for personal use. “Clients cannot purchase psilocybin products and take them off of the service center premises,” she said of a common misconception. 

As of April, 24,263 legal doses of psilocybin had been sold to clients for administration during facilitated sessions. The number of people served is likely lower, as the number includes second doses consumed during a session. The number of total sessions has been estimated to include at least 10,000 people. By comparison, 12.3 million pounds of marijuana were harvested in Oregon in 2024, and there are more than 660 cannabis dispensaries in the state.

State Bill 303 allowed for the collection of more (anonymized) data starting in 2025, around safety, licensing, and sales, to give a bigger picture view of the psilocybin industry. The OPS will also learn about clients’ race and accessibility levels, the average dosage, and their motivation for trying psilocybin under supervision. A report is due in June 2025, which will be published on the OPS Data Dashboard.

For example, there have been 13 reports where licensees have contacted emergency services for client safety purposes. This seems like a low number compared to the mainstream fears about psychedelics. “By comparing the number of products sold to clients for administration sessions with the number of reports to emergency services being contacted, it appears that the administrative rule requirements have ensured that safe psilocybin services are being provided to clients in Oregon,” said Allbee.

She adds that the Oregon law does not direct OPS to track the short or long-term impact of the treatment and clients do not need a prescription or referral from a provider. “Ensuring culturally-responsive psilocybin services will support clients with varying needs. What may work for one person may be very different for another.”

Allbee says she is also well aware of the current costs that are slowing the industry’s growth. “Under Oregon law, OPS cannot set or regulate the cost of services. In addition, Oregon law requires license fees to cover the cost of licensing, regulating, and all components of administering (the rules) ORS 475A,” Allbee said of the small program. 

Allbee admitted that license fees are high, and listed other barriers to growth: 

• Major health insurance companies do not cover psilocybin services
• Licensees have trouble banking, getting liability insurance, and writing off business expenses because they work with a Schedule 1 substance.
• Finding property to facilitate psilocybin services can be challenging because of wary landlords and local zoning requirements.

Despite the challenges, Allbee says other states are watching the Oregon model closely and are expected to adjust their regulatory systems to move these services forward. “Our program has established a safe, effective, and equitable framework in Oregon, one that sets a strong precedent for the rest of the nation as more states consider legal, regulated access to psilocybin and other psychedelics,” Allbee said.

The Hypno-Shaman

Henry Fields, a facilitator based in Portland who works with counseling services Inward Dive and InnerTrek, is trained in hypnosis and shamanic counseling. Fields calls himself a “soul doula,” helping clients navigate profound internal journeys during their psilocybin sessions. It’s no quick solution to life’s problems.”You can’t birth someone’s soul for them,” Fields said. “But you can hold their hand while they do the work.”

Fields estimates that around 75% of his clients experience significant breakthroughs. Yet a small percentage find the journey disappointing, particularly those on SSRIs or with complex trauma​.

He believes prices for these experiences are too high. A full psilocybin journey — including preparation, the day-long administration session, and integration — typically costs $1,500 to $3,000​. Facilitators usually rent rooms from centers and operate as independent contractors, meaning they must market themselves to survive.

“I tell new facilitators, don’t quit your day job yet,” Fields says. “Unless you’re really good at marketing, you can’t count on a full calendar.”

Fields adds, “In my personal experience and the other facilitators that I know, none of us seem to be great at self-promotion.”

The Facilitator-Advocate for Traumatized Veterans and Athletes 

Niches are appearing in Oregon’s psilocybin industry. Former NHL player Daniel Carcillo founded Experience Onward in Portland to focus on using psilocybin to treat traumatic brain injuries (TBI) among athletes and veterans.

Carcillo, who won two Stanley Cups with the Chicago Blackhawks, personally credits psychedelics with saving his life after multiple concussions and mental health struggles. His organization partners with facilitators to provide psilocybin sessions tailored to TBI recovery​. 

“You can make new neuronal pathways around these dead neurons and reconnect these brain hemispheres,” he told Lucid News.

Carcillo is focused on gathering scientific data. He recently conducted a retreat with former UFC fighters and boxers that included extensive pre- and post-testing utilizing neuroimaging, EEG, epigenetic testing, microbiome testing, metabolic testing, cognitive testing, psychometric testing, and biological samples. His goal is to publish findings and provide evidence-based validation for psilocybin’s effects on concussion recovery. 

The Athlete-Veteran Concussion Study is ongoing, and Carcillo says
“early outcomes are promising.” One of the challenges, says Carcillo, is fundraising to keep such a longitudinal study going, and with science research grants being cut across the country, that could be an increasingly difficult struggle. 

His center, Experience Onward, offers six and twelve-week wellness programs that include preparation and integration. Carcillo is careful to emphasize that psilocybin therapy is not a panacea. His center screens potential clients carefully and declines those without adequate support systems – therapists or counselors they can rely on back home. 

“It’s almost less about that one event of coming to do the mushrooms and more about what you’re doing afterwards,” he says. Lifestyle changes, particularly diet, limited alcohol consumption, exercise, and community support are crucial for maintaining benefits.

Carcillo says he has no qualms about following the OPS’s guidelines. Despite marketing challenges due to restrictions that limit discussing Schedule I substances on major platforms, Carcillo reaches potential clients through social media, news coverage, and word of mouth. “If you’re suffering,” Carcillo concludes, “this would be a really good thing to dig into the research about.”

The Gentleman Scholar

Facilitator Johnny Dwork, based in Portland, is a long-time “cognitive rights activist” who advocates for responsible psychedelic use. He emphasizes in-depth preparation, safety, and post-journey integration as pillars of ethical facilitation. Dwork says he focuses on working with clients individually and tailoring the experiences to the specific needs of the individual. “It’s not just about the journey day,” Dwork said. “It’s about the intention and how to bring the insights gained back to our daily lives.”

His work echoes a broader trend: many facilitators are moving toward boutique, high-touch prep models rather than high-volume operations. Dwork likes that the Oregon model allows people who do not have serious health issues to still get  access to the psilocybin experience, “which can be profoundly life-changing, and… awaken to a more conscious, gracious and grateful way of being that is truly empowering.”

But according to Dwork, getting the word out to the mainstream is proving difficult. “Other than doing interviews with journalists, we facilitators are not ideally positioned to create that larger cultural change. That’s left up to the media and great organizations like the Healing Advocacy Fund.”

Dwork observes that many psilocybin facilitators are gig workers. They aren’t making a sustainable living and there is a high potential for burnout as they work unpaid hours on paperwork and in administrative meetings.

When facilities close down, Dwork notes that it’s usually because of two factors: The first he says is that “the money’s not coming in, and that’s because they’re not trained in business, don’t have marketing budgets or they don’t know how to create a truly welcoming space.” He would like to see the OPS limit the number of licenses. 

Despite the market challenges, Dwork says, “there are training programs that are continuing to teach people to become facilitators, because it’s a sink or swim in this nascent movement.”

He says he loves the “stunning” InnerTrek facility on East Burnside Street, where he practices and was one of the first cohort trained, but recognizes that due to their own focus on fiscal survival, InnerTrek contributes to the facilitator over-supply. 

Like many facilitators, the money that Dwork earns as a facilitator isn’t his only income. He says he often makes less money per hour facilitating than an average massage therapist, and adds, “We’re good people who are trying to be part of the change that we want to see in this world. This is very demanding work, and the movement has yet to provide the right livelihood we deserve.”

The Spirit Woman 

Katy Breuning, a Portland-based psilocybin facilitator and longtime bodyworker, integrates legal psilocybin journeys into her broader healing practice, which includes therapy for anxiety, past life healing, and soul retrieval as well as cleansings and weddings.

Rather than working full-time in psilocybin services, Breuning says she rides seasonal “waves” of client demand, balancing private sessions with group retreats timed around the solstices and equinoxes. This is akin to how underground practitioners have been practicing psychedelic healing since the 1970s.

Breuning created and facilitates multi-day retreats at Fernlove, a psilocybin service center on 40 acres of land near Hagg Lake in Washington County, Oregon, which emphasizes slow preparation, connection to nature, and thoughtful integration. 

In this holistic natural setting, Breuning says her model of care is not based on the expectation of a rapid response to psychedelic therapies, but rather a business model based on extended support for growth over time . “Psilocybin isn’t the healing — it’s the catalyst,” says Breunig, adding that she intends to stay focused on services for long-term personal transformation rather than quick fixes.

In Part-2 of this series, we’ll be talking with service center director, facilitator and mental health professional Amanda Gow of Bendable Therapy, Indigenous-friendly facilitator Rebecca Martinez of the Cora Center, and OG entheo cheerleader Nathan Howard at InnerTrek. Nonprofit advocate for state-regulated psychedelic programs, Heidi Pendergast of the Healing Advocacy Fund, research coordinator Dr. Adie Rae of the Open Psychedelic Evaluation Nexus, and visionary attorney Vince Sliwoski of the law firm Harris Sliwoski will also share their thoughts on Oregon’s psilocybin industry.