A Journey Into Myself

This is a personal account of a Master Plant Dieta in Peru from my perspective. Others may have a different perspective, and certainly had different experiences in ceremony and dream work. I can’t speak for them, I can only speak for myself. However, this will still be about many aspects that we all experienced, so it should be a good summary of our shared experience.

Arriving in Peru

People came in at different times, but everyone came into Peru through Lima, and then continued on to Pucullpa.

The flight into Pucullpa was beautiful. As the plane descended, we passed over miles and miles of lush jungle. The dense vegetation broken only by the Amazon river, slicing through the landscape like a great snake. In Peru, however, they don’t call it the Amazon, they call it the Ucayali, and it feeds into what is commonly called the Amazon. As we approached the airport in Pucullpa, the vegetation also began to be broken by dirt roads, and small buildings, mostly with tin, corrugated roofs, forming a haphazard imprint of civilization. We would be the only plane coming in, there was only room for one airplane at the gate. The first thing I noticed as we got off the plane, walking down the stairs onto the tarmac, was the smell. The air was thick with a fresh fragrance. I breathed in, tasting the life on the air that can only come from being surrounded by nature. There was a juice and food stand, the only real food in the quaint airport, serving fresh juices, smoothies, empanadas, traditional peruvian fare. We immediately descended upon it, but there wasn’t time for everyone to get juice. Txana, our Curandero and spiritual guide, arrived quickly in a motokar, which is basically a motorcycle, but the rear end is a bench seat, enclosed with plastic. He is a student of Wagner, the shaman who would lead our ceremonies in the jungle, and had been holding ceremonies for our group back home leading up to this trip. In other southeast Asian countries, they would call this a Tuk-Tuk. As far as I could tell, they were all Honda’s. Txana arrived smiling ear to ear, eager to introduce our group of weary travelers, now energized by the air and the juice, to Pucullpa. We weren’t the only ones energized, however. The stray dogs were as well, and they greeted us gringos with some halfhearted humping outside the doors of the airport. Somehow, Txana had found a bunch of balloons on the way, and they gleefully trailed out of the back of the motokar. Someone joked that he must have stolen them from a child along the way. He would become the butt of many good natured jokes on this trip.

Txana negotiated with the motokar driver, and snagged an additional driver to begin the journey to our Airbnb. 3 people at most per motokar.

I was in the first motokar, holding on to our luggage in the back to prevent it from falling out on the way. After a brief hangup leaving the airport parking lot, as the driver was inside to long and needed to get a new ticket, we were on our way. We turned out of the airport parking lot, into the hustle and bustle of Pucullpa. The first thing I noticed was the almost complete lack of real cars. “Motokars” (the spelling is because that is what is written on them) were the primary form of transportation, followed by normal motorbikes, and finally, rarely, a full sized automobile. The motokar drivers, in an effort to protect themselves from the intense sun in Pucullpa, wear button up shirts, backwards over their arms. Clinging to our luggage, we sped through the town, which was made up mostly of ramshackle tin-roofed buildings. The homes and businesses shared the same facade, without signs denoting storefronts from residences you would not tell the difference. Many people were outside grilling and listening to music. Whether they were mostly restaurants or just families, I could not tell. The smell was wonderful, grilled chicken and fruit, lingering in the air as we passed by, until being replaced.

Eventually we arrived at the Airbnb, “Casa Azul”, as we direct the motokar driver. We arrive to a very large blue metal hangar door, close to 3 stories tall. The door slides open into enormous room, containing a motorcycle on the right, and a washing machine on the right, with a clothing line stretching across the wall. At the back, the cement floor transitions into laminate, with a combined kitchen and living room, as well as a glass wall forming our hosts bedroom. A staircase at the back stretches up to the living quarters, the second floor overlooks the hangar, and is itself a small apartment with bedrooms and a kitchen. The third floor is similarly furnished, and extends up above the hangar room, giving both a view into the hangar and of the town, from the floor to ceiling windows. The 4th floor is the rooftop, with a small square pool in the center, encased in a thick wire mesh. We were greeted by the host, who didn’t speak any English. He quickly jumped to help us with our luggage, up the 3 flights of stairs at the back. “Como te llamas?” he asked me (what is your name). To the horror of my high school Spanish teacher, I responded “Bueno!” and flashed him a thumbs up. This became a funny story later, when he told Txana my name was, apparently, “Bueno”. We quickly got settled in, and greeted the others who had already arrived with hugs. Some people already knew each other well, others had yet to meet. This wasn’t a problem, however. We were all there to heal, and get closer to god. So we got along right away. The group was made up of people of all ages and walks of life, from the Midwest. I was the youngest at 26.

It was not just people that were there to greet us. Txana had stocked up on the most tobacco I had ever seen in one arrangement in my life. This type of tobacco is called Mapacho, and has a much higher nicotine content than the tobacco we are used to in the states. There were 3 options he had brought for everyone. Machine rolled cigars in simple, white rolling paper - 800 each size. Along with the cigars, he had brought a pile of rolled rolled tobacco leaves called Mazo. Each weighed over 3 Lbs and was close to 2 feet long, 3 inches across, tightly bound by what looked like a thick leather ribbon, with with a deep fragrant smell. The Mazo was the star of the show, and I eagerly grabbed one, throwing it up in the air and catching it to test the heft, as well as a bag of larger cigars. In the jungle, it goes by fast, as I would soon learn.

Once I had secured the tobacco, I changed and hopped into the pool on the roof. It was fed by a PVC pipe in the side, and water could be added by turning a red plastic knob. Crude, as all things in Pucullpa, but very welcome. I soaked in the pool, letting the stress of close to 20 hours of travel wash off my body. As I floated, I thought about the journey to get there. It had started 3 years prior, when I first picked up a copy of the IChing, and started journaling. Never did I expect I would end up there. Funny how that works.

Soon, everyone else made their way to the roof, and I changed into dry clothes. We formed a sort of circle, and Txana passed out Mapacho cigars. Everyone smoked the Mapacho. It didn’t matter if you were a smoker at home or not, this wasn’t normal smoking. Tobacco has a spirit, often personified as an old man with long hair. The spirit of tobacco is a cleansing and protecting energy. We would need the protection for our journey into the town, to gear up for the jungle. We went over the plan, as we would only be in Pucullpa for the day. Tomorrow we would head into the jungle. First, food. There was a great vegan cafe across the street that could accommodate English speakers, and the diet that we had begun to varying degrees. The cafe doubled as a shop for a local artist, clothing, tobacco, and other goods. I ended up buying some clothes and honey once we returned to Pucullpa from the jungle.

Once everyone had eaten, we prepared for our journey to town. I geared up by grabbing several cigars. We headed to the corner, by a convenience store, and hailed some motokars. The ride into town was a short one. I rode with Txana in the last car, and we met up with the others who were waiting for us in the central park. As we met, we started to hear the sound of drums beating vigorously. Txana had hired a band for our arrival. We felt like celebrities as we walked over to the Artesanía shop where the music was coming from. We were greeted by the band, and women in tribal garments and face paint, who quickly grabbed our hands and led us in a dance. We danced on the street for a while, and then into the store, where many different artists sold their clothes, jewelry, and other items. As the dancing concluded, they thrust freshly opened coconuts into our hands, and we sipped the fresh coconut water and began to shop. They were insistent, after all we were gringos with money, and I ended up buying more than I expected. Not only was I a gringo, I was a pushover gringo.

Once we were finished at the Artesanía shop, we continued on to more shops. The main goal was rain boots, and pipes for our Mapacho. As we walked over, Txana warned that there could be practitioners of dark magic there, and to avoid eye contact with certain people. We later learned that one of the artisan women who had greeted us with dancing and singing was, according to Txana, a witch. It wasn’t obvious at the time – she had seemed as warm and welcoming as the rest. We were at less risk at the moment, however, because we had yet to start our full Dieta. Rain boots were the first stop. They were good boots, tall and entirely rubber. They fit well, and were an absolute necessity when we entered the jungle, where rain would turn the dirt paths into deep and strong mud, that could swallow regular shoes and sandals. Our group of 10 people was a lot for the small shops that lined the streets, and we broke into smaller groups as people found boots that fit. Moving down the walkway to other shops selling bundles of shacapa leaves, fans, and fragrant wood for cleansing spaces, Palo Santo. Once everyone was outfitted in their new boots, we continued on to acquire some pipes. The most important thing, instructed Txana, was that it was comfortable in the hand. The shop we had planned for the pipes was quickly overwhelmed with the size of our group, and I elected to try the shop next door. They sold jewelry and all sorts of odds and ends. I managed to inform the shopkeepers, two small older women, what I was looking for: “Pipa Grande!”. The request was not a common one for them, it seemed, as they embarked on a frantic effort to dig up some pipes from the back of their shelves piled high with other items. The search was not in vain, however, and soon they emerged victorious with a couple of options. The pipes were striking - two were beautiful carved stone jaguars, two were ornate wooden pipes with an Owl, and the other, an Eagle forming the bowl with a snake wrapping the handle. I went for the eagle, two other women in our group got the jaguar and the owl. The shopkeepers also managed to sell me on a stone jaguar, carved out and with a cork stopper at the top, to hold Rapé. I told them to keep the change, and they couldn’t simply allow that, presenting me with a nice leather coin purse with a strong metal clasp at the top. I had no use for it, but I accepted it gratefully and re-gifted it to Txana, who had to deal with a large pocket of coins to pay our motokar drivers. At this point it was getting dark out, and starting to rain. Some of the more energy-sensitive of our group were beginning to be overwhelmed by the chaos of the shopping area, and we reconvened to head back to the restaurant.

After eating and returning to the Airbnb, there was nothing left to do but prepare for our journey into the jungle in the morning. For me, this meant smoking a lot, and packing my backpack tightly to prepare for the journey. Our host graciously let us leave some things behind, as we would return to the same Airbnb when we left the jungle 11 days later. Some people bought Sanaga in town, which some people also use to prepare. Sanaga is an eye medicine used to enhance physical and spiritual vision. It is used with the help of another, who drops a single drop onto your closed eye lids as you are lying down. It can be very painful, so applying yourself is not generally done. With our bellies full of food, sufficiently protected by tobacco, and vision clear, we retreated to our beds in quiet anticipation for the next morning.

Into the Jungle

We planned to be on the boat by 9 AM. Txana had already taken care of the boat rental, and he informed us, over breakfast, that if we got the fast boat, the journey would take 2 hours. If we got the slow boat the journey would take 6. Breakfast was once again at the same cafe across from our Airbnb, which had served as our second home while we were in Pucullpa. We had put our orders in the night before, so that they would be ready in time for us to eat and be at the boat landing in time. In addition to my breakfast, which was a controversial decision of strawberry avocado “ice cream” (strawberries, avocados, honey, and ice), I bought an Altar cloth for my desk at the center. Once everyone had eaten, we again organized into motokars, which dropped us off at the boat landing. The river is a hub for markets, and on our way there we passed many vendors selling fish and produce that is brought in by boat. The smell of fish takes over, and the sounds of vendors calling to each other, and people haggling fills the air. The boat landing itself was a chaotic place, packed with people hauling food and provisions up and down the embankment to long thin boats, wedged together along the river bank. A loudspeaker breaks through the hustle and bustle, barking orders or information, which I could not understand. The cement road turns to dirt, lined with deep ruts, cut by countless motokars being pushed as they get stuck in the mud. As I pulled up, laden with luggage, people immediately descended on the motokar trying to take my luggage for me. 5 soles was the fair price, but they would ask for 10. I declined, unloading the luggage myself with the help of the motokar driver, and joined the rest of the group waiting for our boat. Txana handled the negotiation, and when ready, gave us the signal to load up. The boat was a slender vessel, with just enough room at the front for our luggage, and two seats per row. Thankfully, it was the fast boat, and the seats were padded. The journey would take us up the Amazon river, which acts as a sort of main freeway for the region. Here in Peru they don’t call it the Amazon, however, they call it the Ucayali. Our first stop, after loading on to the boat, before we started the real voyage to the village of Santa Rosa, and then to the center, was a floating gas station. The opposite bank from the boat landing was lined with these floating gas stations. Boats drove up and filled their tanks on the water. A rare time when I would need to extinguish my Mapacho, which I was basically chain-smoking at that point.

The journey upriver was long and scenic. The river is massive, serving as a sort of super highway for the region. Passenger boats, fishermen, great barges hauling huge machinery, were all common sights. The great expanse of the amazon surrounds us, the clouds rolling across the sky, distant storms could be seen pouring down onto the dense vegetation. The hum of the boat engine soon faded into the background as we grew used to the noise. The engines used there are loud, with long poles to attach the propeller, so that it can run right at the surface of the water. We mainly hugged the bank, passing dense vegetation, and occasionally, what appeared to be a Banana farm. Our intermediary destination was Santa Rosa, a small town very close to the center which was our final destination. The sparse cell service that we had in the city quickly dropped off as we got farther upriver. When we finally arrived in Santa Rosa, we were greeted by a pickup truck motokar hybrid. A large bed in the back for our luggage, but still the front being a large motorbike with off road tires. The town was surprisingly nice, with paved roads and lots of people outside walking, working, or cooking. We only passed through the town however, and the paved roads faded away into little more than a dirt trail, threatening to catch our caravan of motokars in the mud. We made it through, not without having to get out and push at one point, to the lagoon outside of town that we had to cross to get to the center. Once again we loaded into a small, slender boat, making sure to balance the weight of the passengers and luggage so that we didn’t capsize. We launched from the bank, into the shockingly blue water, the wake from our boat breaking up the perfectly still surface. The lagoon is our final hurdle before arriving at Oja De Luna (Moons Eye in English), which would be our home for the next several days. Our hosts were Wagner, who is co-director of the center and was Txana’s teacher, and Raquel, Wagner’s partner and other co-director of the center.

As we arrived, we were first greeted by a hoard of chickens and ducks, which were rooting around at the bank of the lagoon looking for bugs to eat. I walked to the bank first, and they surrounded me, probably expecting the new people to bring them food. The birds, and soon as we got closer to the main area, dogs, accompanied us gleefully to the main salon, where a table was set for our first meal in the jungle, and hammocks were arranged. The Salon, like all other buildings in the center, was built by hand. The frame built with crude boards. The door was held closed by placing a small stick between the door and the door frame. The walls were made up of mosquito netting, all around, which let the breeze through, but there was very little wind in the jungle. Mostly dry heat. The heat was a lot to get used to, but eventually we did get used to it.

The first thing to do once we all arrived in the Salon was to get our cabin assignments. Two people per cabin, separated by a wall. To prepare for our group, they had needed to build a new one. Like everything else at the center, the cabins were built by hand, elevated about 8 inches above the ground, with a trench encircling each to route water away from the ground it stood on. Men and women were separated, even couples. This experience was an individual one. Everyone in our group was assigned a cabin, except for Txana, who would be more isolated, further in the jungle. The cabins contained very little furniture. They consisted of a small room, with a desk, a bed, and a large mosquito net strung up above the bed. We were instructed that we had to tuck the mosquito netting beneath the mattress for it to be effective. We were there during the best time of year, as far as mosquitoes go, but they were still a constant presence. In addition to the sparse furniture, we were given some other necessities: mosquito incense spirals, candles (no electricity in the jungle), and toilet paper, which could be used at the outhouses located nearby the cabins. Toilet paper was the only luxury we had, as far as the toilets go. They were little more than a hole in the ground surrounded by a small wooden structure. A plastic toilet seat sat atop a wooden bench, forming the seat, and next to the seat was a box of compost, which we scattered into the hole after we did our business. Similarly, the shower offered no luxury. We were not allowed soap on the strict diet, or toothpaste. Body odor was controlled by picking a lemon off the numerous trees, cutting it, and rubbing the juice on our bodies. The shower itself was shared among everyone, a small building with a tiled floor and a crude spout. There appeared to be moss growing on the shower head, but it was not a concern as the water pressure was strong and the water came out fresh and clear. We didn’t only shower with water, however. We also used “jungle garlic”, a strong smelling leaf with a garlic-like scent, steeped in water, after cleaning our bodies from the freezing cold spout. The leaf-water mixture sat in large buckets inside the shower building, with smaller buckets sitting in it for us to scoop out the needed amount. Three buckets over the head facing the sunrise, and 3 facing the sunset, we were instructed.

Once everyone had settled into their cabin, we returned to the salon. The rest of the day was spent settling in, preparing for the days ahead, and savoring our last meals before we started the strict diet phase, and what delicious meals they were. The food was simple, but prepared beautifully.

After we ate lunch, we gathered around in a circle on the floor. Raquel passed out a small box to each of us, containing an altar mat, a few Mapacho cigars, a necklace with a cross section of Ayahuasca vine, and our dose of Sangre de Grado (Dragon’s Blood in English). The dose was contained in a small glass bottle, accompanied by a plastic spoon. The substance itself is raw, uncut resin from the Sangre de Grado tree. Soon we would begin dieting it, one spoonful in the morning 30 minutes before food, and one spoonful before bed at least 30 minutes after food, over the course of 3 days. Once everyone had received it, we learned about how we would communicate with the plant. There are 3 main things to keep in mind for adequate communication. The first is meditation, simply focusing on the tree, being intentional and silent, for at least 10 minutes per day. We learned that it is normal for meditation, and quieting the mind, to be difficult for some people, but what is important is the practice, no matter if it is done “well”. Next is prayer. This is different than meditation in that it is active, putting words to our intention, as words have the power to create reality. Finally, the third, and most important form of communication with the plant is through dreams. This is, in a way, the Academy of the plant. It is where we would learn the most, with our conscious self out of the way. We learned that we should focus on the image of the tree as we went to sleep, and write or speak our dreams into a voice recorder immediately upon waking up. These three things are very important in this process, as this is not simply an Ayahuasca retreat, but a shamanistic practice of learning and receiving guidance from the spirit of Sangre de Grado. The Ayahuasca ceremonies are more of a supplemental thing, to bring our communication into our conscious minds. Well, as conscious as you can be during an Ayahuasca trip.

In the evening, after dinner, we convened in the salon for a sort of opening ceremony. Everyone gathered around in a circle, sitting on the floor. Raquel was equipped with her guitar. During this, we first introduced ourselves to the jungle, through a song. This process was not just for us. It was also for the jungle, and we had to pay our respects to it. We introduced ourselves to it as we would any other person. We also shared what we were there to focus on, and what was on our minds that could wait to be picked up when we left the jungle. Now was not the time for our petty worries, our full focus should be on being present for the process of the Dieta. The circle was emotional, we shared many laughs, and some tears, as what people came there to heal is often difficult. Tomorrow we would begin the Dieta process in earnest.

The Tobacco Purge

That day we started fast – first with a tobacco purge and then with an Ayahuasca ceremony at night. We had not yet started dieting the Sangre de Grado, that would start the following day. I was up before the break of dawn to the calls of the roosters that roamed freely around the center, eager to get started. It would be my first tobacco purge, and I was not sure exactly what to expect. All I knew was that it would be gross and I would throw up a lot and probably poop a lot. Fun times. The reason for the purge is to prepare the body for the days ahead, getting rid of all (well, as much as possible) of the junk we carried with us. Both energetically, and physically. Our hosts were not yet ready to start when I was up. Only the dogs and roosters greeted me. Raquel got up soon, as the dogs were barking to announce my presence. She let me know we could start soon. I went back to the salon and waited anxiously with the other early risers. Soon they were ready, and we began to make our way to the Maloca. People came at different times, unlike the Ayahuasca ceremonies, this didn’t need to be a fully communal process. As I entered the Maloca – a large, circular communal structure built by hand, used for ceremonies and rituals – there were small mattresses arranged around the circular walls. The Maloca is circular for a specific reason: energy can get trapped in the 90 degree corners of rooms, and keeping the room circular allows the energy to circulate freely. Each mattress also had a sitting pillow for comfort, a blanket, a small cup of tobacco mixed with water, and a large pitcher of water. The way the purge works is you drink the full cup of the tobacco water mix, then chug the pitcher of water. This combination is designed, in short, to make you vomit a lot and quickly. However, they went easy on us, and while I did throw up, it was not as forceful as I was expecting. Some people didn’t end up purging at all. We later learned that Txana had asked Wagner for a gentle purge, and a strong Dieta, which is why the purge was not as intense as it could have been. Those that did not purge ended up just adding the tobacco to the plants they were dieting, serving to protect their spirit over the coming days. For me, I already smoked copious amounts of tobacco, so I was happy to purge.

Once the purge was done, after some time we could eat. We were now on the strict diet phase, so food was very basic, and without salt. Each day we received a pot containing all our allotted food for the day. This contained a few boiled potatoes, 2 boiled eggs, and either brown rice or quinoa. No seasoning, no sauce. It was plenty of food, however, the point was not to fast or to go hungry. The point was to give the plant we were dieting an environment in which it could work. Salt, sugar, strong flavors – anything with its own energetic signature could interfere with the spirit of the plant, drowning out its voice. The bland diet kept the body quiet, so the medicine could be heard.

The rest of the day I spent resting, and in meditation through traditional methods and my own method of journaling, trying to clear my mind and center on my intention for being there. Raquel told us about the tradition they practice, which is the Asháninka tradition. Wagner always prepares his medicine using Ayahuasca Negro, or Black Ayahuasca, which is more potent than other types. It is a very concentrated medicine, and the experience would be heightened by being in the jungle enveloped by nature. In the past, I had often needed extra doses in ceremonies. I am a big boy after all, standing 6'1 and around 230 pounds at the start of this trip (I lost 15 pounds over the time in the jungle), so my main concern was that I wouldn’t have enough. I wasn’t nervous about what I would experience at all, as I had done 2 ceremonies prior, and felt comfortable with my subconscious. I had done spiritual work through journaling for 3 years before this, and was comfortable with my demons. Others reassured me that with this medicine, I would surely connect with the mother Aya, and I shouldn’t worry. Still, before we started, I let Raquel know, and she assured me that I could ask for more if needed but that we would still start with the max “normal” dose.

The Dieta

We started the Dieta in earnest that day. First thing in the morning before food, we took our first dose of Sangre De Grado. Each dose was one full spoonful of the small plastic spoon we had each been given. The Sangre De Grado itself is the resin from the tree, uncut. We were instructed not to shake the bottle, as shaking it can cause it to explode when opened, like a can of soda. The resin is a little less viscous than oil, and is a very dark red. I poured out my dose, taking care not to overflow. All the way to the top. I sat and prayed over it, focusing on my list of things to work on. Inviting the spirit of the medicine in. Once I was ready, I brought the spoon to my lips, tilted my head back, and threw it down. My whole mouth constricted from the medicine. The substance was intensely astringent, immediately sucking all of the moisture out of my mouth, leaving it parched. The only thing that remained was a strong bitter taste. It was hard to get down, but I did. After taking the dose, we were instructed to sit still and let it settle in our stomach to prevent our bodies from rejecting it immediately. At the risk of upsetting my stomach, I went for water right away to combat the medicine’s power. Somehow, I managed not to upset it, and made my way to the Salon for my breakfast of boiled eggs, boiled potatoes, and rice. This practice continued for 3 days, morning and night, until our bottles of resin were empty.

The First Ceremony

Soon I started feeling the initial rising, as I was used to with any Psychedelic. A sort of nervous anticipation as the feeling built. Wagner started singing first, (this is called ícaros, traditional healing songs, which we had a class on later in the week) his voice, and the shacapa, a bundle of dried leaves shaken like a rattle. It was powerful. The feeling continued to rise until my entire body was vibrating, and felt warm. A sort of glowing sensation, if glowing had a feeling. My mind was all over. I remember thinking about some mundane things like work. Soon I started going toward what I call the void. It is always there for me I guess. I think it is a yearning for death. Not in a suicidal way, but more “l’appel du vide” (Call of the Void in French). Like when you are standing at a great height and feel a weird urge to jump, despite having no real intention of doing so. I saw it in my peripheral vision quickly growing and swallowing up everything else. I didn’t want to go there at the moment, so I showed gratitude for it, and pulled my mind back to reset. On to other things. From there, my thoughts were all over the place. Work, my girlfriend, who I wanted to be in life. Notably absent was a traumatic experience in my past, that I had blacked out from my memory, and came back in a previous Ayahuasca session. I won’t get into that experience here, but I was expecting the Ayahuasca to take me there. Not absent however, was the purging. I have always purged during Aya, and this time was no different. I purged early on, and hard. It is never fun to do, but I always feel much better once it happens. During these ceremonies, I tend to have heightened telepathic ability, (woo woo, I know, but bear with me) and I tried to reach out to my mother, who is also very sensitive to this sort of thing. Later, she would share that I kept popping up in her dreams, which is how I often appear to her when I try to do this type of thing. She was aware that I was doing this trip, so perhaps I was just on her mind. Regardless, I tried to reach out to her telepathically. When I do this, I feel a string coming out of the top of my head (crown chakra) and extending into the ether, eventually finding the presence of the other person. I don’t always find them. I did find her this time, and sent her just a simple greeting message. I felt a rush of love pour into me. It was so strong and deep and unwavering, I got the sense that this was the depth of love she feels for me, and felt ashamed to ever doubt her or question her actions (score one for mom). I sat with this feeling of love a while, eventually thanking her and moving on. Back into the chaos of my mind. I remember feelings of bliss, as I listened to the singing of our hosts, combining with the sounds of the jungle at night. They didn’t compete, rather came together into a beautiful medley as if the very insects were singing for us on our journey. I started to have a vision. I see myself in a tub, not a modern bathtub, but just a simple metal tub, they type that cattle may drink from. I am in a tent, surrounded by women who are bathing me. Something interrupts us. Something that I must deal with right away. I see myself grab the side of the tub forcefully, and push myself up. It is a change from being receptive, to seizing control. I don armor, and take up a sword. I walk out of the tent, onto a huge battlefield. A single warrior stands before me, armed with a long halberd: at the front, an axe, and at the back a large spike, affixed to the end of a long pole. The time to fight has come, and we do. The fight doesn’t last long, he fights well but eventually I over power him. He drops to his knees, and I show no mercy, cutting off his head in a large sweep. Once the deed is done, I drop to my knees, cleaning my sword and taking a cross legged position to meditate. I get the sense that I don’t want to kill, but it is necessary. The vision ends, and my meditation on the battlefield transitions back to my real body, sitting cross legged on my mat in the Maloca, perfectly still. Once again I went into the chaos of my mind. Rapidly chaining my train of thought, often resetting back to center as I felt myself getting led astray. I remember finding everything so funny. Thinking about how we take life so seriously for no reason. I thought of a poem, or maybe more of a joke:

“This is my gift for you” Says God. “I don’t believe you” Says the man.

To me it means we already have everything. We are complete. God has given us everything we need, this gift of life, and we go off in search of meaning. Seemingly not believing that we already have it. How funny. All we need to do is accept the gift, and be grateful.

When I was called up to receive the soplada – a traditional Amazonian healing ritual where the shaman blows Mapacho smoke over the body to cleanse negative energies and provide protection – from Wagner, Raquel asked me if I felt the medicine. “I think so”, I said, despite feeling it pretty strongly. She asked me if I wanted more, again, “I think so”. I received the blessing and cigar, and asked for a second dose. Wagner, Raquel, and Txana all shared a laugh. A sort of knowing laugh. I knew I was really in for it at that point. I received the second cup, this time only 1/3 full, brought it to my third eye, focused my energy, and drank it. I returned to my seat and braced for a powerful journey. As the energy rose, I quickly felt the need to purge again. This one was even stronger than the first. Soon after I purged, the experience really picked up. I felt as though the entire left side of my head and body was collapsing in on itself. Like a diagonal plate, compressing down onto my body with great force, crushing me. I had to open my eyes (which didn’t help much – the Maloca was pitch black) and make sure my body was still there and I was still sitting upright, which I was. This continued for a long time. I felt crooked. I don’t think I was paralyzed, but I didn’t move. It was uncomfortable, but I was able to focus, accepting the feeling, and eventually it passed. I remember thinking to myself “if you want to break me, you are going to have to try harder than that”. This was, I think, close to my limit but not quite there. It was very intense. In the past, in Reiki and Ayahuasca ceremony, I had learned that I had a blockage in my left arm, which is related to the heart chakra, and I assumed this was related.

After this, I was mostly sitting there just giggling to myself about how funny it is that we take life seriously. Maybe that was my lesson. Approach life as a fun game that I get to play.

The Second Ceremony

For the second ceremony, I decided to bump the dosage up more. The same total amount, but in one dose instead of two. Still, I had not gone to the extent that I felt I needed to. There was something that I was looking for but I wasn’t sure what it was. Something was calling me. I didn’t know what I was expecting, I just knew that I would know it when I found it, and find it I did.

This experience was beautiful, but also downright terrifying. Primal. Wild. All-encompassing.

At first, it starts as normal. The feeling growing stronger, rising until my whole body is vibrating. This time, however, that is not where it stops. There is a rhythm
to it. Moving in waves over my body. Pulsing, expanding and contracting like breath. My vision is filled with geometric shapes, also dancing along to the rhythm. Time slows down to a crawl. I am barely conscious of what is going on around me. I don’t think that Wagner has started singing yet at this point. As usual, I need to purge, and I do. As usual, it is strong. I am still experiencing the same rhythmic vibration. Now I have learned to lean into it, vibrating along with it. The geometry subsides, and I feel an immense stillness. Like a lake, early in the morning, the water like glass, not a ripple in sight.

An energy starts to form in the center of my eyes. I see it like looking into a kaleidoscope. A circular pattern, rotating along with the rhythm. A form starts to emerge from the center, taking the form of a dragon, the kind you see in Chinese culture. Long, like a snake, with a large snout, resembling a mustache. Her body flows along with the rhythm. She is staring into my eyes, into my soul. I get the sense that she is so old, so wise, beyond words.

We sit for some time, just looking at each other. She invites me into a sort of small boat, or at least I am conscious of getting into some sort of vessel. “Let’s go down” she says. We begin to descend. Down. Down. Into the center of my solar plexus we drop, for what feels like 30 minutes. Time, however, has no meaning to me at this point. Eventually, we reach what is, I guess, the center of my gut. I feel as though I have been swallowed, and have landed in the stomach of a great creature.

I step out into the depths.

Immediately, I am surrounded by entities. The dragon is still there, but there is more. I get the sense that they are curious about me. Demons start offering me things. Telling me my mouth is dry, holding out a cup, telling me I should drink. Something tells me I shouldn’t drink what they are offering. I realize that they are always present, tempting me to do different things. I see all temptations now as this. I can just not acknowledge them and they go away. I am not scared of them. They are amusing, more than anything.

The rhythmic feeling continues to rise. Growing, pulling me in, consuming everything. I feel panic begin to arise within me. I have had panic attacks before, this feeling is the start. I know these emotions, though, and I can handle them. I feel scared. I want to pull myself out, but I know that there is no escape. I remind myself that this is what I wanted, that I would be here for a very long time.

It is difficult to put into words what I am experiencing at this point. I am in a different place entirely, but it is not a foreign place. it is a place that is always present, always continuing the rhythmic dance forward. It is the breath in my lungs. The sun on my skin. The air under the wings of birds, the earth as it breaks down organic material into compost. The sweet smell of flowers, the tender touch of a loved one. The strength of a raging storm, the violence of nature, and the beauty of a sunrise.

There is nothing that can stand in the face of its majesty.

It is not the dragon, she is my guide, but she is part of it. All things are part of it.

I feel myself slipping away, becoming consumed by it. I fear that if I allow myself to slip away, I will never be able to come back. Luckily, my ego is strong, and I am able to pull myself back and center, but one step and I would have been erased completely. Absorbed back into this thing that is all things. Thoughts come, things I want to do, to ask, ideas of how I will write about this. They cannot stay long, however. They disintegrate into nothing, as if being burned into ash by a raging fire. I feel myself seduced by the rhythm, pulling me in, breaking me down, and welcoming me to become part of it.

I get the sense that this must be what dying feels like. Our bodies will wither, decomposing into the earth. Our consciousness will return to the eternal dance.

I don’t know how else to describe this experience, other than dying and meeting god.

I sit with this presence for what feels like hours. Allowing it to wash over me, bathing me in love and terror.

I think at this point, Wagner begins to sing. He drinks his cup last, and begins his song when he feels the medicine is at its peak. The presence dances along with his voice, lingering on every note.

Mother Ayahuasca tells me I will know others that have been to this place by their eyes. I will know them, and they will know me without needing to say a word.

My life is now split into two pieces. Before this experience, and now. My eyes are opened for what feels like the first time. I bring my hands together, my fingers need to meet each other again. I am reborn and need to learn how to walk again on my new legs.

As I sit and listen to the singing from Raquel, Wagner, and Txana, I hear this presence echo in the inflection of their words. Dancing between the quiet places between notes.

At this point, I am once again aware of my body and surroundings.

I open my eyes, and feel the power in my gaze. Shooting forward like great beams. I remember thinking to myself that I should wear sunglasses tomorrow, not to protect my eyes, but to protect others from my gaze.

I understand now why people devote their lives to this pursuit. Through meditation and isolation. All the mundane aspects of my life pale in comparison to this. I see a vision of myself sitting in meditation in a temple on a mountaintop. This, however, I don’t think is where I am ultimately called to be. Perhaps just a necessary stop along the way.

The Third Ceremony

For the third and final ceremony, I brought the dose back down to normal, but still high levels. I found what I was looking for already, and I did not feel called to go back to that place again.

At this point in the week, we had been dieting Sangre de Grado for multiple days, which would make our Ayahuasca connection stronger.

This felt like a reunion more than anything else. The feeling started like normal. It rose, filling my body with vibration at first, then spreading in a more gentle version of the same rhythmic flow. It was actually a very similar experience to the second ceremony, except this time it was a familiar feeling. I wouldn’t call this a vision, per se, but I had a sensation of standing in front of a large fountain. Straight up in front of my body, with water flowing out gently from countless spouts, covering and spreading through my body. Mother Ayahuasca doing her work. I had actually experienced the same thing during the second ceremony, but it was overshadowed by the main presence. This fountain feeling was pretty much all I experienced. One other notable thing happened, where I was shown some deep trauma, that had come to light in a ceremony prior to this trip, and I had been carrying for many years. It was presented to me as a little box in my peripheral vision. Sitting there menacingly, waiting for me to turn my focus to it. I was afraid to go into it at first and refused. But it stayed. Eventually I relented, took a breath, and went into it, bracing myself for a difficult journey. I opened the box, and found nothing there. As soon as my attention was directed to it, it was gone. I guess that this was the medicine showing me that I had already addressed it. My work there was done.

The sensation of the fountain continued until I heard the words “It’s the end of the road” and felt the presence leave. At this time, I had let myself fall into grandiose, egotistical feelings. As it left, I felt a sense of loneliness and desperation. This feeling transmuted into a hard purge. All of my impure thoughts forcefully expelled from my body. The medicine reminding me that I am nothing. I was grateful for the reminder, and said thank you, hunched over my purge bucket.

The Integration Process

The day following ceremony days, we would spend integrating our experience. This is a very important part of the process. It is this stage where we make sense of what we just experienced, and find where it fits into our lives. During this stage, it is common to feel out of place, as the primal world of the jungle ends, and the creature comforts of modern life return. During this time, we are still very energetically sensitive, and avoid physical contact with others, especially sexual contact, as well as maintain a “soft diet” designed to transition us back from the strict salt free diet in the jungle. By adhering to this soft diet for 3 weeks after we leave the jungle, we can ensure that the spirit of the master plant can fully settle into our bodies, staying with us for the rest of our lives.