How a Psychedelic Journey at 50 Redirected a Billionaire's Entire Life

Brett carries the X3 bar, yoga mat, and elbow pads in a backpack whenever he travels. He stumbled onto the bar after founder Dr. John Jaquish appeared on Ben Greenfield’s podcast. He used to lift heavy to reach 225 lbs as a young man, which required massive eating and stressed his heart. Now at 186 lbs, his biomarkers at 54 are better than at 40. He pairs this with the 24-minute plank and morning hikes for a complete routine.

In his early 40s he’d bend over and go ‘Ugh.’ After building the plank to 24 minutes, he never has back issues. He travels with elbow pads just for this. He considers it the best exercise.

Brett contrasts this with Ben’s hill sprints, noting that he feels good about his cardio and isn’t trying to be super muscular anymore. His biomarkers validate the approach.

Brett’s own journey included months of pouring over transcripts with an integration coach. He’s met people who had terrible experiences because they drank beforehand or had no integration, and he highlights the work of Brian Muraresku (The Immortality Key) calling for modern wisdom schools with proper protocols. He supports ibogaine for veterans with suicidal PTSD but emphasizes that setting and aftercare are everything. He also mentions that he doesn’t do psychedelics at parties, which makes him a bit socially awkward.

The journey gave him a 10-second vision: seeing his body and hearing ‘You’re just poisoning yourself. You have a big mission in this lifetime. You need to just move on.’ The desire for alcohol vanished instantly; he still has a wine cellar but doesn’t drink. Later, as his spirituality deepened, pornography lost its pull and he noticed sex became more satisfying because it was pure making love without mental ‘crap’.

He recounts that his third journey was a direct meeting with God, changing him forever. He has read over 85 books in 18 months on quantum physics, spirituality, and AI. He insists that the hard problem of consciousness will never be solved biologically, yet brain-computer interfaces like Neuralink will help humanity self-regulate emotionally and even prove that spirituality and science converge. This isn’t a rejection of science; he sees abundance tech (solar, desalination, robotics) as tools for love if we choose to use them that way.

Inside the journey, he relived his mother’s unconditional love from infancy, then she walked him into his wife’s soul. He understood he married his soulmate and that caring for his wife was healing his mother’s unfulfilled self-nurturing. The next day his best friend from childhood urgently asked him to reconnect. Three years later, that friend told him he had been in a desperate prayer, tears streaming, begging God to have Brett reach out. Hurt replied, ‘Brother, you’re not going to believe what I was doing the day that you were in that prayer. I could feel your prayer.’ This event shattered any doubt about a spiritual dimension.

Meeting an Uber driver from Chad, Kalabu, where 1 in 8 have electricity, crystallized his vision. He asked, ‘How will we create abundance in a place like Chad?’ The answer, he says, is to decode the sun’s energy (18 seconds of its rays power the US for a year), desalinate water with that energy, use robots to build infrastructure, and deploy AI and quantum computing to accelerate solutions. Brain-computer interfaces, he predicts, will prove that spirituality and science are two sides of the same coin, uniting humanity. The prerequisite: consciously choose love over fear. He warns that ‘with great power comes great responsibility’ and technology gives superpowers for both good and ill.

In the journey, he saw his own body and heard words: ‘You’re just poisoning yourself. You have a big mission in this lifetime. You need to just move on.’ That was it — he never wanted to drink again, despite a wine room in his home. He may take a sip during Passover for ceremony, but no recreational drinking. Pornography lost its pull later as his spiritual path deepened; he noticed that sex became better because he was making love without those mental images. He emphasizes that these changes came with integration and a supportive environment, not just the substance.