3 Books That Changed the Way I See Masculinity and Plant Medicine

My understanding of masculinity didn’t come from one moment. It came through layers—experience, relationships, inner work, and, at some point, plant medicine. But there were also books that gave language to what I was already starting to feel.

Three in particular shifted the way I see what it means to be a man.

The first is The Way of the Superior Man by David Deida. This book doesn’t talk about masculinity in a social or political sense—it speaks to something deeper, almost energetic. Deida frames the masculine as a force of presence, direction, and purpose. Not control, not dominance, but grounded clarity. What stayed with me is the idea that a man’s core is his mission—his ability to stay aligned with truth even when emotions, distractions, or challenges arise.

When I later started working with plant medicine, this teaching became very real. In ceremonies, everything gets amplified. Your fears, your patterns, your unconscious reactions. Without presence, you drift. Deida’s work helped me understand that masculinity, in that space, is about staying anchored—breathing through discomfort, holding your center, and not escaping when things get intense.

The second book is King, Warrior, Magician, Lover by Robert Moore (with Douglas Gillette). This one gave structure to something I didn’t know how to name before. The idea that mature masculinity isn’t one-dimensional, but expressed through archetypes.

The King brings order and blessing.
The Warrior brings discipline and action.
The Magician brings awareness and insight.
The Lover brings connection and aliveness.

What hit me was realizing that imbalance in any of these creates distortion. Too much Warrior without Lover becomes aggression. Too much Lover without King becomes chaos. And in plant medicine work, you see this clearly—people either trying to control the experience, dissociate from it, or get lost in it.

This framework helped me recognize where I was underdeveloped, and where I was overcompensating. It also showed me that masculinity isn’t about becoming “stronger” in one direction, but about integrating all parts.

The third book is No More Mr. Nice Guy by Robert A. Glover. This one is more direct, more confronting. It exposes the pattern of seeking approval, avoiding conflict, and disconnecting from your own needs in order to be liked.

This pattern shows up strongly in men entering spiritual spaces. There’s often a tendency to bypass truth in the name of being “good,” “safe,” or “loving.” But real growth—especially in plant medicine—doesn’t come from that place. It comes from honesty.

Glover’s work pushed me to look at where I was not being real. Where I was holding back. Where I was avoiding discomfort instead of facing it.

Together, these three perspectives shaped something more grounded in me. Masculinity not as an identity to perform, but as a way of being. Presence. Integration. Truth.

And when you step into deeper work—whether through life or through plant medicine—that foundation makes all the difference.