Intergration of Rongoā Māori with Psychedelic Assisted Therapy

TE AO MĀORI | ISSUE FOUR/20 | RONGOĀ / DRUGS

Interview with Anna-Leigh Hodge | Te Rarawa, Ngātiwai

Interviewed by Skye Lunson-Storey | Arts, Culture, & Te Ao Māori editor

Tū Wairua is a Hauora Māori initiative designed, led, and directed by Māori (Rangiwaho, Ngāi Tāmanuhiri) investigating the safety and effectiveness of administering rongoā Māori psilocybe taonga species to whānau suffering from problematic methamphetamine use (PMU).

Skye: Can you share a bit about who you are and your haerenga into this kaupapa? Particularly, what drew you to working with psilocybin within a rongoā Māori framework?

Anna-Leigh: Te uri nō Te Rarawa me Ngātiwai, nō Jersey Channel Islands, me Leigh-on-Sea, me Plymouth ōku tūpuna.

I tipu ake au i Waitākere, Tāmaki Makaurau.

E noho ana au i Mangaroa Farms, Upper Hutt – kei raro i te pae maunga o Rimutaka, e rere ana te awa o Mangaroa.

E mahi ana au hei Kaimātai Hauora Hinengaro (Health Psychologist), he tauira PhD i Waipapa Taumata Rau (University of Auckland), he Kairangahau hoki i Manawa Ora Integrated Health and Research (Kaupapa Māori research) - Tū Wairua kaupapa (Rangiwaho Marae, Ngāi Tāmanuhiri)

Ko Manu Kōrero tōku ingoa mō Tīwaiwaka.

Ko Anna-Leigh ahau

Ko au he wahine Māori working at the interface of mātauranga Māori, rongoā Māori, clinical psychology, and emerging psychedelic research. My haerenga into this kaupapa has been both deeply personal and collective, challenging, and has also offered a pathway of reconnecting more firmly to what was buried but never lost for my whānau - our Māoritanga.

From a young age, I experienced the world as layered across wairua, hinengaro, tinana, whenua, and the unseen. For much of my life, those experiences were not always understood or held well within dominant Western frameworks. Over time, that created a strong pull in me to seek out holistic healing approaches that did not split people apart into symptoms, diagnoses, or disconnected parts, but instead recognised the sacred, relational, and interconnected nature of being human.

What drew me to psilocybin within a rongoā Māori framework was not an interest in the substance alone, but in the wider healing potential that can emerge when this work is held in a way that is accountable to whakapapa, tikanga, wairua, whenua, and whānau. Rongoā Māori is not simply about plant medicine in isolation; it is about restoring balance and strengthening mauri through relationship. Tū Wairua spoke to me because it offered the possibility of developing a therapeutic space that was not just clinically informed, but culturally and spiritually anchored; one that could support healing in ways that made sense for our people. Especially in terms of addressing addiction to methamphetamine, a heartbreaking reality that many of us face within our whānau and communities. 

Skye: From your perspective, what potential does this kaupapa hold for supporting not just individual healing, but collective healing for whānau and hapori? How can it support whānau impacted by methamphetamine?

Anna-Leigh: For me, the potential of this kaupapa is far greater than individual symptom reduction. Tū Wairua is grounded in the understanding that mamae does not occur in isolation, and neither does healing. Methamphetamine harm often sits within wider contexts of colonisation, disconnection, intergenerational trauma, whakamā, loss of belonging, fractured whānau relationships, and spiritual injury. Because of that, a meaningful response cannot be purely individualised or biomedical. It must also be relational, cultural, ecological, collective, and intergenerational.

This kaupapa holds potential because it creates space for people to reconnect — to themselves, to their whakapapa, to whenua, to wairua, and to those who walk alongside them both physically and through wairua. For whānau impacted by methamphetamine, that can mean more than helping one person reduce use. It can mean interrupting cycles of mamae, restoring trust, strengthening collective support systems, and helping whānau make meaning of what has happened to them without reducing their experience to pathology alone. In that sense, Tū Wairua has the potential to support not only healing from substance-related harm, but also the reweaving of identity, connection, and collective hope now and for generations to come.

Skye: As a wahine Māori working between the two worlds of mātauranga Māori and Western science, how do you hold that balance as kaitiaki of this kaupapa? What does it mean to you to reclaim and whakamana these practices within clinical research?

Anna-Leigh: Holding that balance requires constant reflexivity, humility, and accountability. I do not see mātauranga Māori and Western science as equal systems doing the same work, nor do I believe one should dominate the other overall - that is contextual. Rather, I try to hold them both with integrity — being clear about where each framework is useful, where each has limits, and where Māori knowledge must remain protected from extraction, dilution, or being forced to prove itself on Western terms alone. As a kaitiaki of this kaupapa, that means making sure the research does not compromise tikanga, flatten wairua, or treat Māori ways of knowing as secondary.

To reclaim and whakamana these practices within clinical research means creating space for Māori knowledge to lead, not simply be added on. It means recognising that healing can move through Te Kore, Te Pō, and Te Ao Mārama — through potential, transformation, and manifestation — and that not all important change is immediately visible or measurable through conventional clinical tools. It also means documenting this work carefully so that future Māori-led research, workforce development, and intervention models are not forced to start again from scratch. For me, this is both a research task and a responsibility to our tūpuna and mokopuna.

Skye: How has this integration been received, both within te ao Māori and the wider scientific community? Have you encountered stigma or misunderstanding around psilocybin, especially from whānau, hapū, and iwi?

Anna-Leigh: The reception has been mixed, which I think is understandable within both te ao Māori and the scientific community. This kaupapa can generate deep interest, curiosity, and hope — but also caution, concern, and at times misunderstanding. Psilocybin carries stigma because it has often been framed only through criminal, recreational, or sensationalised narratives. For some whānau, hapū, and iwi, there can be understandable hesitancy about anything associated with drugs, especially when communities are already carrying significant harm from substance use. There can also be concerns about safety, spiritual risk, appropriation, and whether this kind of work aligns with tikanga and Māori aspirations.

Within the wider scientific community, there is increasing openness to psychedelic research. However, there can still be a tendency to privilege biomedical explanations and standardised models over relational, spiritual, and culturally grounded realities. Part of the challenge of this kaupapa is that it asks both worlds to expand. For science to take Indigenous knowledge seriously, and for communities to see that this work is not about importing a trend, but about carefully exploring whether a marae-based, Māori-led, tikanga-held intervention can be developed in a way that is safe, ethical, and of benefit to our people. So yes, there has been stigma and misunderstanding, but also a great deal of thoughtful engagement and genuine support.

Skye: Lastly, as you reflect on this haerenga, what is your vision for the future of this research and its impact on Māori health? Do you have any final words for rangatahi considering a science career but want to highlight rongoā Māori?

Anna-Leigh: My vision is for this research to contribute to a future where Māori health innovation does not require Māori knowledge to stand at the margins. I would like to see Māori-led, marae-based, culturally anchored therapeutic models taken seriously as legitimate, rigorous, and necessary responses to the challenges our communities face. Furthermore, I would love for the evidence base for Māori ways of knowing, conceptualising and approaching health to be recognised as rigorous and scientific, leading to more kaupapa being funded. 

I hope Tū Wairua contributes not only to evidence around safety, feasibility, and healing, but also to Māori workforce development, strengthening Māori governance within research, and future pathways where our own frameworks for wellbeing shape the design of care from the beginning. Ultimately, I hope this mahi helps restore conditions where our people can move toward a worthy state of thriving — not only surviving, but reconnecting to whakapapa, whenua, wairua, and collective possibility.

For rangatahi considering a science career while wanting to uplift rongoā and kaupapa Māori, I would say this: do not believe that you have to leave your culture at the door to belong in science. The way you see, feel, sense, and relate to the world is not a weakness — in fact, it is your gift.

We need more Māori in research, but not just as people who fit into existing systems. We need Māori who will reshape those systems, ask different questions, protect our mātauranga, and create new pathways for our people. There is space for rigorous science and deep cultural integrity to walk together — but it takes courage, grounding, and trust in who you are and where you come from. AND a strong relationship with those you trust. Start nourishing them more deeply now.