Reminiscing About ICPR 2024

November 2024

Although ICPR 2024 happened quite a while ago, I'd still like to take a moment to reminisce. It was one of my highlights of 2024 and a really special edition for me personally. First of all, because my youngest son was along for the ride.

ICPR's youngest visitor - with  VIP room

It was really out of necessity that we were bringing Kaya, then 9 months old. He was an avid bottle refuser and had not yet mastered eating solids, so he couldn't be away from me for more than a few hours. Given these circumstances, attending a three-day conference in another city didn't really seem like an option for me. But missing out on ICPR, as one of the co-inventors of the conference, was obviously not an option either. So I had to bring Kaya, there was no other way. A logistical hassle, three nights with a baby in a hotel room. But in the end it was more than worth it.

The Philharmonie was the perfect location: the dressing rooms in the concert hall were a life-saver. We got our own area backstage, where I could nurse in peace and where Kaya could nap in a baby tent. A wonderful OPEN volunteer babysat him in between so I could attend some lectures (thanks, Bia!). My mom also came to help for a day (thanks, Mom!).

ICPR as a rite of passage: my return to the world

Despite the wonderful help, I did not attend many lectures. My postpartum brain couldn't handle more than a few a each day. For me, this ICPR was less about the content and more about the conversations in the breaks and connection with other conference attendees. After a very challenging postpartum period during which I spent a lot of time at home, ICPR felt like a rite of passage: my return to the world. From having the walls closing in on me at home to an international conference with nearly 1,000 attendees - that contrast was huge and, frankly, quite daunting. But it felt like a warm bath. The atmosphere was easy-going and friendly and the community spirit at ICPR was palpable. Something I experienced myself, but also frequently hear from others, is that besides the high-quality lectures, this true community vibe is the strength of ICPR.

An LSD insight

The feeling of coming home to like-minded people was a gift in itself. In the breaks, I mostly spent time with old friends - and after nearly 20 years in the psychedelic science world, there were lots of them. All those social interactions were at times overwhelming for an introverted sleep-deprived mother like me. During those moments, I was glad I could retreat backstage or into the Low Stimulus Domain: a new, meditative space with beautiful music, where you could reflect in silence, daydream and let all the conference excitement settle. A great addition to ICPR.

In that serene space, I was overcome by an insight. There I was, on multiple levels a mother. My baby was sleeping soundly and it dawned on me that in a way ICPR is also my child. Although I have not officially been part of OPEN and the conference organization for many years now, I was at the cradle of it all. Being able to bring my youngest child to visit my “firstborn” felt very meaningful, like a full circle moment. In addition to this moment, there were two other ones that really stood out.

A historic opening

My husband Joost is standing on the stage of the Philharmonie's large concert hall in his fancy suit. The hall, with space for 1,200 people, is almost fully packed and there's a mellow murmur. The lighting in the hall has a purple-pink hue, an atmospheric wink to the colors of the OPEN logo. There's a large screen on the stage and on either side is a majestic, colorful flower bouquet highlighted by a spotlight. “Welcome to ICPR 2024 - Interdisciplinary Conference on Psychedelic Research, Haarlem” reads the screen, on a neatly designed slide in ICPR's house style. I think back to our first conference in 2010 and jokingly think to myself: spot the seven differences! The contrast with those early years, when OPEN did not have a single paid staff member and we as a board organized the entire congress ourselves, increases a moment later.

Joost, who isn't intimidated by the large stage and is presenting like a natural, gives the floor to the opening speaker. “Pia Dijkstra, Minister of Healthcare, The Netherlands” is written on the slide, next to the ICPR logo. And there I sit, listening to the Minister of Healthcare inaugurate ICPR. Tears in my eyes. Somehow I still can't believe it. How far we have come, not only as OPEN and ICPR, but as a psychedelic research community. To top it off, the minister promises 2.6 million euros for clinical research on psychedelics during her opening speech. I won't easily forget this goosebump moment. I loved how Joost added a hilarious twist to this historical moment by securing a quick kodak moment with the minister before the entire audience. She had to leave immediately after her speech, but Joost did not let his only chance for a photo pass him by. Here is the result, which now adorns our bathroom as a souvenir.

A magical closing party

Four intense days in Haarlem left me exhausted. When Kaya finally fell asleep in his own bed on Saturday night, I was tempted to snuggle under the covers myself. But I'm glad I ended up going to the afterparty in Ruigoord after all. Joost and I got married in the very church of this artists' village, and in the early days of OPEN we organized a few benefit events there. Now it was for the first time the venue of the official ICPR afterparty. This artistic haven, closely intertwined with psychedelic culture, proved to be the perfect location for ICPR's festive conclusion.

The evening kicked off with a stunning performance by Iranian musicians and a Whirling Dervish, in Ruigoords beautifully decorated church. After that Hans Plomp, co-founder of Ruigoord, gave a moving speech. Hans was terminally ill and spoke with equanimity and an almost childlike curiosity about the approaching end of his earthly existence. It was a great gift that he was present at all and that he spoke so beautifully.

Hans is the co-author of Uit je Bol, the book that first planted the seed for my passion for psychedelics. Without this book, my path might have looked very different — perhaps OPEN and ICPR wouldn’t exist in their current forms. I was too tired to dance or socialize much at the afterparty, but I managed to speak with Hans for a while and thank him for the inspiration he’s given me. I told him that our very presence in the church that evening, gathered as a psychedelic research community, was a ripple effect of him having written Uit je Bol. It felt like another full-circle moment — and for that alone, the evening was worthwhile. [Hans passed away in August]

While soaking up the atmosphere and the wonder on the faces of the partygoers, especially for whom this was the first time in Ruigoord, I felt both total exhaustion and a deep sense of gratitude. And I found myself secretly dreaming about the afterparty of ICPR 2026 — imagining how I’ll be dancing with everyone after an inspiring conference, with the brain-fogged days and sleepless nights far behind me.