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Ayahuasca Ceremony #19, Part 3: The First Time I Almost Died

June 30, 2009 by poetkitty

Almost Died
At this point, the ceremony held the usual litany of intense emotional spewings, a smattering of cosmic visions, loads of profound lessons, and the added (bonus) of some seriously critical brain-sourced judgments and critiques. There were times my head was so full of screaming dialogue, I thought I might drown in the negativity.
But this is poetic, I knew, because of my intention – kill that bloody ego.
An intention that, in retrospect (and if I’m being honest, even in the moment it was declared) was not so inspired. Still, I had the experience I needed.

My internal fight had risen to a crescendo. The not-so-little ego had identified her target, and as I previously mentioned, she just wasn’t going down in a peaceful fashion. The boxing gloves were merged into my consciousness, and I felt paralyzed by the back and forth battle – the anger and hissing judgment juxtaposed with the higher self acceptance. Only the higher self stayed mostly out of it, in the later moments – I was on my own to revel in this incredibly dark and negative barrage of venomous words.

I kept marveling at my ego’s tenacity, but getting lost in the frustration and perceived failure. Immersed and floundering, I begged for a release – a letting go, in any form. It came from a surprising vision / visitation. Ayahuasca took me back to my very early childhood. I was two again, a tiny being trapped in an oxygen tent, and because my lungs were full of fluids and my body temperature was so sky-high, they wouldn’t let another soul touch me for fear of a heated overload. I felt myself in that secluded state, ravaged by this illness, and staring out the clear tent walls to see my mother. She peered at me with desperation and pain. I wanted those arms I spied – a womb of safety. I screamed my protests, begging to feel her touch, to be comforted and scooped out of this isolation. But no comfort came. Nothing but sterility and solitude, coupled with the intrusive glances of strangers and family that could not do anything but look. And pray.

Why am I here? I wondered with a demanding surge. As if I didn’t have enough to battle internally, now I felt submerged in complete loneliness and abandonment. Then, however, the voice came – that wise, velvety, glorious higher self / Ayahuasca voice.
She told me the simple truth – that the fight I felt in the present moment – the ego’s heroic showdown of force and presence – was the very same vivaciousness that kept me alive during those childhood death-dances. I almost perished in that memory; I could feel how close to leaving my body I really was. And instead, I fought to stay. My ego’s glorious survival instincts kept me tethered to this reality, and I found myself feeling insanely grateful for her maddening strength.

It was precisely the revelation Ayahuasca had been waiting for – the acceptance of this ego’s power, not the resistance. I felt my internal battleground dissipate a bit – it morphed into something more akin to a debate, and less like a war. I could breathe a little deeper, and listen a whole lot closer. This was the shift in the wild ride that would allow the transmissions to land in my emotional and higher selves, as my mind had relaxed enough to trust the process once again.

The rest of the night would be wrapped in a veil of blankness. I was in the experience of feeling, but received little else in the way of lessons and awakenings. I did not mind. I had passed the terror stage again and found a little serenity – I only felt grateful for the chance to just be.

In the final hours, I allowed myself to play in the room a bit, and really get lost in the music. I marveled with sincere awe at the entirely unique journeys every beloved in the room confronted. I could feel with subtle certainty where everyone was in this cosmic unraveling, and there remained zero doubt that many felt monstrous struggles, while others were finding their bliss. I thanked Ayahuasca for the perfection of every story. And once again, connected with my sincere adoration for this crazy, beautiful path.

At times, I rose up and danced out my expressions, utilizing the open space outside of the circle to let my body take control. Thoughts completely disappeared, save the occasional egoic concern that people were watching. Even if they were, I (mostly) didn’t care – I enraptured myself in the movements, the unity with the awesome music the shaman created with his myriad of instruments. Those were my only pure moments of happiness during the actual ceremony, but to be true, they were more than enough.

I ended the night with thoughts of Orion, sending him my love and gratefulness for his tangible presence. I simply couldn’t wait for our reunion the next day. The talking circle formed when the ceremony ended, and I had little to say. I verbalized a bit of my experience, and acknowledged that my birthday had officially landed at midnight that eve. The rest of me attempted to listen to everyone else’s amazing journeys (although that is always made challenging by my hearing loss – oy.)

When I finally found the right moment to steal away to the bedroom, a present sat waiting on my cell. 8 text messages from Orion, revealing yet another miracle from the evening’s events. These would uplift me in unnamable ways – as would the treasured Best Friend bonding that awaited. More on that very soon :)

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Ayahuasca Ceremony #19 Part 2: No Bucket Required

June 15, 2009 by poetkitty

bucket_pink[1]
It’s been established, then, that I was in no mood to revisit the depths of my darkness as ceremony 19 spiraled into reality. And yet I know that control, albeit always an illusion, is really a pipe dream when one ingests the never-subtle goddess Aya. I felt mildly comforted by the presence of so many people I positively adored – the least of which was Best Friend, who finally, FINALLY shared the sacred space with me. Ismene’s presence also made me feel grateful and surreally joyful – a beautiful soul I met the very first trip to the Amazon, and one that I’ve shared some incredibly intimate synchronicities with, the least of which was the bed of a certain Seeker. That she and I could once again share this experience together (and this time, actually talk to one another) seemed like a total spirit-gifted miracle. These were the life rafts.

As a further comfort, to distract my freaking-out ego as the medicine rushed up to greet my senses, I took a trip down memory lane and remembered my very first ceremony. Much of it involved her – Best Friend – and our beautiful, lifetimes-extended connection. I had dreamt of having her know this journey since those first moments, and it felt beyond surreal to know it had finally come to pass. She sat far away from me, snug in a corner nearest the shaman and attendant. I lingered at the far end of the circle, nearest the bathroom hallway, easy access to a big empty floor space that beckoned me to join her for a jig, should the mood strike me.

Ayahuasca came on with a gentle surge this time, a shocking development in light of the last two rounds with this shaman. I did not complain. God no. I needed this. I felt fearful about trusting this graceful return, in every moment pondering “Is this as strong as it will get? Will we have to go deeper? Will we go back to the fucking nightmare?”
A constant analysis. My mind wouldn’t stop – not for a millisecond. Waiting for more terror, waiting for the demons to strike, spewing out her judgments and rage for what may never be and what has been.
The myriad of ways in which I am not fond of myself started surfacing like a brush fire. Just like the old days again, I thought – that rabid, seething voice that once ruled the roost in my head space. She was back with a vengeance, yelling about fat thighs and insecurities and ridiculous, old-way woes. I, however, did not resist. I let her just be, hoping that a few short bursts would be all it would take to settle back into my trusty heart – where the dialogue was always blissful and kind.
No such luck. Not for an instant. No, the fight was on. My ego raged up with an impressive power, absolutely refusing to succumb to my intentions – to lessen her impact, to quiet her rage, to slip her out of the driver’s seat forever. She was having none of this demotion.
I knew it was going to be a long damn night. Again. Another dark night of the soul – the third in a row with lady Aya.

Thankfully, my body wasn’t nearly as fidgeting as past ceremonies. I actually felt a wave of peace now and again, moving only occasionally instead of in a constant shaking flow. Another striking revelation came to me then, in those first 90 minutes – I would not be purging this evening. My very first dance with Ayahuasca that would not involve a purge. And I love the purge, truly – it always holds such symbolic relief. So this lack of a purge, it didn’t really equate to good news – it told me I was holding on tightly this night. I was not ready to let go, despite my deepest desire to do just that.

And so I sailed in and out of conscious awareness, witnessing very few visions but shielding a chorus of angry internal voices. Every last one, save a tiny little whisper, held cruel assessments of my character and well being. I went through every minute detail of my life at times, furious about an endless list of infractions. Jesus was I angry. I felt my fingers curl into fists on numerous occasions, and though I’d swiftly release them upon realization, the defiant stance would be back in a nanosecond. I felt so frustrated with my power struggle, answering back in a quiet tone that this was Ayahuasca we were dealing with here – my spirit mother, my trusted guide. Why on earth did I have to war with my dearest deity?

By now, the room was alive with activity. I started to sense the journeys of several others in the room. Again, my heart ran to Best Friend, and I cringed at what I found. I could feel her hunched over, purging, dry heaving, and struggling a great deal. I knew on the highest level how poetic this was, how perfect it was that should was releasing everything she deserved to let go. But it pained me even further to feel her strife. So many others in the room had a similar journey. I felt the resistance and fear rise up, but then suddenly, a laugh erupted inside – I wouldn’t buy into this bullshit. I knew how cosmically beautiful this ride was for every last soul – I would succumb to the negativity on a global scale.
Leo’s purging made me smile then, when I needed it most. He sounded like the brave lion I knew he was, confronting a few internal demons and refusing to let them get the better of him. I knew it would be a long night for him, too, but I also knew he’d be better for it. Better for it. Yes, maybe I could hope for the same.

I lamented, for a moment, the loss of Orion in this ceremony – he was in Denver for the eve, on the tail end of training for work. He would return the next day for my birthday ceremony, but he would not be there for comfort and sharing in the after hours. My mind went to express disappointment, but I couldn’t seem to force it – the poetry of my aloneness rang loudly, as I knew the opportunity to face this solo was a blessing. A chance to own my individual power, and share the results with O on his return. And besides that, I felt him. With every fiber, I felt him with me. I was reminded of the strength of our bond, the foundation that it gifted us both, and tried to get lost in this beautiful knowledge.
Ayahuasca, however, had other lessons in mind. I didn’t stay with Orion long.

Next up, I would visit my childhood. Age two, to be exact – by far the most profound lesson I would receive all evening.

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Ayahuasca Ceremony #19 Part 1: I Did Not Go Gently Into That Good Night

June 5, 2009 by poetkitty

ceri_richards__do_not_go_gentle_1
It’s no secret that my March Ayahuasca sessions did a serious number on my psyche. I talked a little too much about how terrifying ceremony #18 was for me – the near psychotic break left me humbled and dazed and. . .shit, just stone-cold freak-a-fide.

I thought I had wafted past all of the fearful silliness in the hours before ceremony #19. I tried to be proactive in the days prior to the next deep-dive — meditations that just weren’t deep enough (or sincere enough), the incessant processing of the why’s and the how’s and the never again’s, the deeply real gratitude for every last thread of emotion – fear and all. I suppose it was an ok effort, but I did what I do so often – too often -
I skimmed the bloody surface. I did not serve myself in the highest fashion. And as such, there were more lessons to bring forth.

Everyone arrived Saturday for the weekend’s festivities – fresh-faced and heartfelt. Most were newcomers to the world of shamanism – a few of us were trusted repeats. We had a lovely time bonding and getting into the energies – complete with a fantastic round-robin discussion with Shaman and his Attendant. Beings of light that we all are, it was a gorgeous conversation.
And about 2/3 of the way in, I felt it – a wave of utter, primal, heart-gripping terror.

I felt a charge of energy wash up around my throat and head chakras, burning and flushing my cheeks and cells. I excused myself moments later, staggering into my bedroom and sitting on my bed to contemplate how to maneuver through this fear. Just moments before, I felt bliss. I felt ready and willing to let Ayahuasca take over – to surrender my illusion of control. Now. . .there was just no way. I mean, how could I go back to that darkness? How could I face down those demons when I had suddenly lost faith in myself?

I went back to the circle. The conversation winded down, and the clock ticked before us – about 30 minutes to lift-off. I thought about purging the medicine right after I took it – I could just rush off to my room and throw-up where no one would know. My ego adored this option – we could play the part but not have to hurt. Wouldn’t that be nice. To not have to hurt.
But I couldn’t. I knew too strongly how much I deserved this journey, and I felt too connected to mother Aya as a whole. I couldn’t dishonor this opportunity by hiding. I had to find the strength to go under.

I called Orion. He was in Denver for pilot training. He would be joining us the next day, and we lamented not being side by side for this cosmic undertaking. I knew, however, that he would be closer than I could ever fathom, no matter where he might physically reside. This would turn out to be so poetically true, it would be hard for us to accept.
But I digress. We’ll get there.

Orion gave me a little tough love pep talk. He reminded me to see the fear as a blessing, a big neon sign showing me how deep this process was taking me. Ego death was just on the horizon, he assured me, and the only way out of the fear – was to go through it.
All of the things I knew, but didn’t want to face. I felt resistant to his words at first, but fell into them eventually, unable to disagree with what I knew to be true. I loved him so much, for giving me this boost. I hung up and got to work.

We found our places in the ceremonial circle, and before the sun had even set, one by one, we walked up and swallowed our medicine. I straightened my spine and focused on my breathing. Focused on letting Ayahuasca run the show. On finally. . .letting go.

I waited for the unfolding to take me away as tears of primal fear flew down my cheeks. I wanted to be anywhere but there. Anywhere. But falling into my inexplicable terrors.

“Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.”
- Dylan Thomas

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Ayahuasca, You May Have This

May 29, 2009 by poetkitty

goddess_of_love_energy
An open letter to my spirit mother

I will be with you again tomorrow night. Our nineteenth dance, followed by the twentieth. There’s a corner in there. I am turning already.

I bring to you all of me – not just the select bits I’ve offered up in the past. It’s effortless with the painful parts – those are always the things I ask you to heal.
Migraines.
Asthma.
Self-hatred.
Fear of death.
Broken familial relationships.
Drug and alcohol addiction.
Severe depression and erratic mood swings.

You’ve taken them all and flicked them off me like lint. I should say we. This is a group effort. You, Don Rober, Howard, Andre, myself – along with everyone I’ve shared the space with and everyone who’s cheered me on. There is no such thing as alone, in the quest for healing, or elsewhere.

This time, I’d like to bring you the things I don’t want to heal. Odd, that. But they are attachments, or at least, they represent the possibility of such, and I want no such thing. Yet the small “I”, the frightened little ego-self, she’s rather fond of life’s tapestries these days. She eyes them with a ferocious, protective stare, daring the world to place a paw on these prizes.
My heart, however, invites you into these sacred spaces. We humbly request that you snip away the curled claws, like tiny strings wrapped around a Christmas gift. It is understood that unless I can offer up my dearest treasures, I will eventually create the loss of them. And I will never reach the place of self-realization. There is no room for the divine in a being who builds walls and limitations. Mine have all been bulldozed. I’m letting the light in.

I give to you, then, all that I have amassed in this dream Vegas life. You brought me here, remember? I had no idea what I was doing, vetting off to the desert for a vision quest. But you showed me the old ways, how they ceased to serve me. You gave me the fire and strength and clarity to walk away from my perceived security, and into the gloriously dark unknown. For me, that meant leaving absolutely everything familiar. 13 years of my Hollywood life. Friends and libations and special watering holes and roads I knew how to navigate with my eyes sewn shut.

It wasn’t an easy transition. The loneliness I confronted felt crippling at first, but you were always there. You would pick me up and lead me to the alter when the breakdowns left me paralyzed. You would flash within me a glowing orb of bliss when I would swear I had fallen back into the abyss. You gently reminded me that everything was perfect, in all ways, and showed me how I had the resources to create everything I dreamt of.

Now. . .Now. Now is so beautiful. That I should know a fuller experience of Now is the first immense blessing. More of that, please – this incredible awareness. This willingness to see *everything* that is revealed.
And all these things I have in my reality – all these things I have sourced the power to dream into the waking life -
I give them to you. All of them. They are not mine to own.

The little house I bought in an impulsive rush – I don’t need it. I don’t even live there anymore.
The three cats I sometimes think I’d die without – they’re foolish, those thoughts I have. I willingly release these cherished beings to you, whenever they are called. I do not wish to keep them here for selfish reasons.
The magnificent job I enjoy so much, in the most entertaining industry. This office full of people my heart just adores. I will walk away in a heartbeat, the moment I hear the calling. Or I will stay for a lifetime, despite my ego’s judgments or protests. Whatever it is that defines my highest good – I accept.
The car, the clothes, the mansion I am living in, the endless list of stuff that has recently amassed – take it. Really. It’s yours, should I need to let it go. I have no claim to any of it.

And here are the big guns. I’m crying now, because of the profundity. Because of the sincerity. I don’t *want* to lose any of this, mind you, but I know you understand the sentiment. I have learned, as one Teacher says, to offer up my bliss like a string of pearls, and throw them onto the alter.
Well, here they are. That which I love the most.

The closeness I have with Mom these days – how amazing it is to have her just 90 miles away. The way in which we support each other, in all vibrations and spaces. I will sacrifice that, too, if you tell me that is Right.
The Guru, The Teacher, The Enlightened Friend – all those who have achieved that which I hold in the highest — if I never see them again, I won’t resist. I will just say thank you, in every conscious moment, for having them in my life at all. For everything they have gifted me.
The Best Friends – and God, is this an impressive list. LA angels I have left behind in the physical, but certainly not in the emotional / spiritual. And the Vegas souls that leave me awestruck and humbled. I have forged bonds here that should have taken years and more to solidify, but because of you, Ayahuasca, my heart just opens, and we just *are*. So incredibly close. But I would give them all up should the Universe request it. Not without a rainstorm, mind you, but the willingness is no less sincere.
Hijo. The stepson I have recently offered up my heart to. The beautiful being that has accepted, and given his in return. My newest teacher. The bond I never ever thought I’d actually know. Walking away would be staggeringly difficult, Aya, you know this. You showed me my maternal self, after all. But I know how fragile and fleeting every moment is. I know it may serve us both to separate, in an instant. Should that transpire, I will obey. You have my word.
And yes, there is Orion. He is Love. Responsible for helping me to know more joy, more ecstatic, unified oneness than any other being I have shared my true self with – my true and present Partner. What don’t we share? It’s endless, and yet, we really are ok with an ending. Whatever awaits, we welcome it. I will not lie to you, I choke on the idea sometimes, I feel breathless at the maybe loss of him, but it’s all because of my willingness. This surrender, she is a floodgate for me. Because I’m actually tapping into what love is. Loving myself enough to honor what is best for all, in every moment. This is not ownership, or possession, or a fearful lockdown. I am grateful for every moment of our togetherness. I am present with this Love. Whatever the future holds, I am thrilled to welcome it.

So, thank you, so much, for the infinite transformations you have already gifted me with. You are patient when I need it, strong and defiant when I won’t back down, and always, always loving and protective. Just like a mother. I love the part of me you represent. It’s the highest self I have access to. I will never stop giving you gratitude.

See you tomorrow, my lady. I’ll be the one with the open arms, full to the brim with offerings. Take whatever you see fit. I will love you all the more.

Ready and willing,
me

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Cycle 6: These are My Intentions

May 28, 2009 by poetkitty

enlightenment
Two days from now, I will be falling back into the cosmic, healing embrace of Mother Ayahuasca. I am no stranger to shamanic journeys, to soirees with the helper plants, and yet, I’m back into the space of knowing next to nothing. There’s a clean slate glowing behind my mind’s eye, and it’s waiting for just a few dribbles of clarity. A sense of knowing sourced straight from my heart, not filling up the head that thinks she’s full, but is perpetually empty.

I can now say, unequivocally, that I’ve devoted my life to the ultimate ego-shed. 2 1/2 years ago, when Z and I met, I first learned what enlightenment met – the beginning of the unfolding. He was on the quest, clearly, and I found it so fascinating. I placed a pedestal beneath those who sought the same, and especially those who had already reached the pinnacle. And I thrust myself so far below, I didn’t even hold the possibility for myself.

It was the combination of Ayahuasca and Huachuma / San Pedro that gave me my most treasured awakening. I remember sitting on top of El Brujo – the life-giving, feminine powered pyramid – gazing out across the magnificent landscape. Inside my head, the dialogue between higher-self and ego ensued. The spirits had cornered me – asking why it is that I thought enlightenment was not possible for me. The questions unfolded with gentle intensity, and my arguments kept breaking down.
Then it came to me. Like a flash of blue light from a far away lighthouse. My ego had led me to believe it couldn’t happen to me, because, of course, it would mean the death of her. But as I came to realize that I am not my perceived identity – that I am, in fact, all aspects of God – there was no other logical conclusion. I, too, can self-realize.

In that same ceremony, I found myself tracing the footsteps of prisoners from 3,000 years before. They had walked within El Brujo’s life-taking pyramid, where I now traipsed – the last moments of their lives. I tried to reconcile how we humans take our own lives, again and again. It’s always suicide, no matter who kills who. And why? Why this deadly dance? Why haven’t we learned a bloody thing in all these thousands of years?

Because so many of us believe in the illusion. This became so clear to me. We believe in the identities built within our egos. That we are our nations, our families, the definitions we hold about who we are and what we do and why we do it. And what we BELIEVE in – our favorite attachments.
That’s all poppycock. We are none of those things. We are ALL of those things, yes, but they aren’t what defines us. What defines, really – if you had to boil us all down into one collective ingredient – it would be love. The great white light. The only real thing that lives inside us. And the very thing our egos work so immensely hard to keep us from.
Why? Because the ego can’t control love. When we own this divinity, all that perceived control just washes away.

Now that’s a dream I will never stop spinning inside this radiant reality.

This weekend, I’m blessed to be back inside the circle that feels most familiar to me – Ayahuasca. Shamanism. In my current home, with my friends and loved ones. Purging out the painful parts of ourselves, so that our love and light can surface, and become all that we know.

Last time, I let my ego run the show. I let her battle for supremacy, trying so hard to dictate what would and would not happen in these ceremonies. Where we would and would not go. What we would and would not feel. In the end, I faced the most painful, miserable, soul-ripping night of my life. Dark night of the soul indeed. All because I wanted it my way. And what a shitty way THAT is.

This time – THIS time. . .
I am raw and humbled, slack-jawed and limp. I am my heart. I will walk up to the alter on Saturday night to take my next dose, and I will do so without walls and agendas. With trust and faith that Ayahuasca and the higher realms will lead me right where I need to be. None of this bargaining crap I tried before. I will just be. And wherever I am taken, I will go with willingness and reverence. I will love my way through every presented experience. And if I’m able to drop any or all pieces of my ego, all the better. Whoever she thinks I am, I know I am not.

No more illusion. I’m ready to see – and be – nothing but light.

“Enlightenment is not imagining
figures of light but making
the darkness conscious.”
Carl Gustav Jung

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Losing My Identity, Finding a Whole Lotta Love

May 15, 2009 by poetkitty

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Ayahuasaca ceremonies #19 and #20 are just 2 weeks away.
Just 2 weeks, that’s all I have to prepare, to get centered, to declare my intentions, to face my demons, and to do my best to fully surrender to the process. I wasn’t pious enough during my last journey with her, and I’m immensely humbled this time – gratefully so. I think a part of me (read: the controlling little ego) figured that since I’m such a veteran, being lax on the diet and what not wouldn’t do much harm. And while I don’t actually blame some dismissal of such things for my deep dive into the darkness, I know it didn’t help.

Now – today – I am not a shaman. I am not in any way an expert on Ayahuasca or shamanism. I am just a girl with a calling to know more of myself, and blessed enough to know the path and the people who can help take me there. That feels like such a stronger place to be than the borderline know-it-all who jumped in the last go-round. I am very confident this will help yield even more profound results. In any event, man am I glad I got knocked off that pedestal. The view is much better down here.

The maya-world has been extraordinary as of late. Orion won a court case that’s granted him 50% custody of Hijo, his magnificent, truly Indigo 10 year old son. Every other week, we’ll be a family – fully focused on the well being of a luminous young life. Every other week, Orion and I will refocus fully on ourselves, our healing, our growth. And in every moment, the bond between the two of us just keeps getting deeper. Even still, I feel myself detaching more and more too, which feels so *right*. I don’t live in fear of this vulnerability I have with him. I’m really only aware of how much I love him, and how grateful I am to have every minute we share. Man, this is so magical. I can’t wait to share more of this with Hijo, and to see the ways in which he will continue to be my teacher as well.

The week has not been without its losses – I walked away from a 1.5 year bond with two souls that have a gorgeous vision for a new business venture, but one I found did not serve me, despite my love for them and the incredible humanity the project encapsulates. Those are the hardest ones to turn away from – scenarios that seem so page-perfect, so aligned with the universal greatness, but they just aren’t right for *you*. Or in this case, me. I was not fond of the ways in which it hurt the men I adore, but the decision was clearly heart-sourced, as once I made it, I felt the yes-ness of it flowing through me.

Last night, Orion and I went out to dinner, toasting the incredible success of the day, and the joy we have in every aspect of our Now. At the end of dinner, when just a few sips of champagne remained, he scampered over to sit next to me (our favorite way to dine) – and as our foreheads pressed together and he dug into me with his radiant blue sparklers, I felt within the greatest surge of love I have ever known. Truly. And it wasn’t just an “I love this man,” although make no mistake, that was a huge piece of the smitten pie. I also felt intense love for myself, for Hijo, for all the many, many incredible beings in my life, and of course, God / the Universe as well. The oneness shined back as I gazed at Orion’s reflection. And I was reminded of something my Guru said to me just a handful of months ago -
Kitty, what do you know about love? You don’t even know how to love yourself.

How thrilling to see / feel / know that this is changing.
My next dance with Ayahuasca – that’s what we’ll be going for. A complete shift into self-love. Which I know will just spread me through the cosmos.

Now excuse me while I scoot off to SoCal, visit the Guru, Z, Sister-Friend, Best Friend, Gay Husband, Wonder Twin, and the Healer. Adventure awaits.

“So if i die today
i’ll be the happy phantom
and i’ll go wearin’
my naughties like a jewel
they’ll be my ticket
to the universal opera
there’s judy garland
taking buddha by the hand
and then these seven little men
get up to dance
they say confucius
does his crossword with a pen
i’m still the angel
to a girl who hates to sin”
- Tori, of course

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Ayahuasca Ceremony #18 Part 3: Blissful Detachment

May 11, 2009 by poetkitty

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After powering through the absolutely worst, most nightmarish 90 minutes of my life so far, I found the trip back to the ceremonial circle to be pure bliss. I walked from the tiny bathroom to my spot in the space with a poundy little purpose – excited to feel such a tremendous release from my terror. I had recognized so much in those purging minutes – how much I hold myself small. How much I torture myself for not living up to my insanely high expectations. And what a glorious, powerful being I really am.

The shaman started pounding on his luscious tribal drum, and my entire being surged with alive-ness. I shimmied and swayed, allowing the intense energies to flow throw me now – no longer locked down in resistance. I had released the need to make the night’s events look the way I wanted them to look, and instead left it up to divinity. No more fighting and resistance. And as such, my pot of gold awaited.

After a stretch of silence, Andre and Gianna (shaman and attendant) started up another round of magnificent music. Andre honored an out-loud request I had made to Orion before the ceremony – he sat down at Lucy, my upright piano, and played what has to be the most gorgeous melodies I’ve ever heard her coo. Hearing this symphony, I literally felt my heart crack open. Light poured in and out of my chakras, and my chest rose up toward the sky, my arms outstretched and falling to my sides. I was a puppet being pulled into the cosmos, and as I felt my body rise and fall without my conscious effort, I also became keenly aware of the tidal wave.
Tears. So. Many. Tears. They burst forth down my face in a flood of release, and the observer in me smiled at the poetry. Yes, I sobbed – fiercely at times, shakes ripping through my fame – but I felt so joyful to let all this go. I didn’t have stories attached to the tears, just a very clear knowing that I was being cleansed. That I was being prepared for the next chapter of my existence. And it wouldn’t involve hiding, pretending to be powerless, or any sort of easy road.

I accepted these messages with open arms. Ayahuasca confused me, however – she kept calling me a mother. Over and over again, she showed me the parts of me that are nurturing and maternal. Children appeared from all sides and all ages, with beaming faces full of trust and admiration and love. I took this to mean I would be a symbolic mother for children in the world, and could certainly accept that.
I didn’t know how much this mother-vision would mean, in just two short weeks. Ah, the symmetry.

The night played out in between the magical shaman-songs – I would process the beautiful lessons a particular piece brought forth in the silence, then feel my emotional being cracked open again when a new song would start. I felt the whole range of emotions, all the while shaking with the energetic flow. But my observer-self, the elevated, blissful being – she just radiated her appreciation for the night. Even for the agony. Especially for the agony. And she is the one I connected with the most – the one who encapsulated the “I” within me most prominently. Which is right where I love to be – in the highest self I can access.

As the night hit the 2/3s mark, I rolled over to my side for a breather, and saw Orion facing me, laying in the same fashion. I could see his gorgeous smile, and it filled me up with an incredible sense of love. I reached out for his hand, and he reciprocated with a tight, glorious grip. We stayed that way for some time, staring and beaming and feeling and connectting. I felt his energies merge with mine, and before I could get lost of the beauty of it, Ayahuasca stepped in with a message.
Detach, she told me.
Hold on to him, love him with all that you are, but don’t let it define you. Be ready to lose him. Be willing to lay down this bliss.

I processed this for some time. I thought about what it would be like if he left me tomorrow – if our journey found an abrupt end. I connected with the sadness of this possibility – the inevitable emotion – but it did not feel overwhelming. What I was most conscious of was an incredible gratefulness – for having known him at all. For receiving such a tangible glimpse of what a truly connected, truly devoted relationship could be.
I acknowledged the ways in which I was attached, and started letting each thread release and float away. And just as I did, Orion released his grip, smiled, and rolled his face to the other side of the room.
Perfect. Timing.
And we would discover the next morning that just as I was processing the lesson of detachment, he was too. Landing at the same conclusions – how fortunate we are, how fragile it all is, and how crucial it was to remain grateful and detached.
We listened. That much has been beautifully apparent in the days after this amazing epiphany.

The night ended quietly. The shaman repeated the previous evening’s ritual by lighting a candle and inviting us to sit around and discuss the events. This time around, I felt alert and alive – the previous ceremony had left me speechless and dizzy, still in too deep at the end to find any way to communicate or become truly in the room. This night, I was there – glowing, feeling, basking. I listened, contributed a bit here and there, and connected with all of my fellow travelers. ET and I had an especially magical bond – I saw him rocking and holding himself, very much where I had been the previous evening, and I obeyed the urge to envelope him in a tight embrace.

Welcome to college, he told me.
And I knew what he referenced. We had done previous ceremonies together, he and I, and as amazing and powerful as they were, they felt like grade school. We had graduated, together. And this just felt unspeakably precious.

Orion and I made our way to bed at some point, still a bit discombobulated and goofy. The night was spent in fitful bursts of sleep, embraces, and beautifully connected pillow talk.
What started as the worst of times did indeed become the best of times.

And today – today I am facing down the next two ceremonies, just 19 days away. What will come next is an examination of where I’m at with the aftermath, and the looming opportunity to dive back in. There’s a lot to accomplish and feel between now and then. I’ll be here to do just that, in preparation. And as an homage to all of you who share in this ascension.

Certain these clouds go somewhere . . .

“So I know it’s just a spring haze
But I don’t much like the look of it
And all we do is circle it
And I found out where my edge is
And it bleeds into where you resist
And my only way, way out is to go
So far in”
- TAmos

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Ayahuasca Ceremony #18 Part 2: Calling All Saviors

April 29, 2009 by poetkitty

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There I was, drowning in the metaphorical blackness of my most nightmarish Ayahuasca ceremony. Confronting the deepest layer of my madness. Wondering if I would survive. If I even wanted to anymore.

And the only thing I could think of doing to help myself was . . . to ask for help. Throw out an SOS and see if the Universe was even listening.

The shaman played his music, my friends were lost in their own journeys, but I knew I could summon Gianna – the shaman’s intoxicating and powerful girlfriend / assistant. I sat at the far back of the circle, placed there because I could presumably handle myself and not need as much guidance. So many bodies, so much energy to sift through, if I chose to stand up and walk to her.
That was not an option. I couldn’t move, couldn’t risk disturbing Orion or ET or any of my other angel journeyers. But I knew I couldn’t take this anymore, not alone, so I just stared her down and willed her to come to me. Please, Gianna, oh my God – please come make this go away.

I trembled as tears flew down my cheeks, but otherwise did not acknowledge the intense emotion that simmered within. Gianna didn’t move – she sat next to Andre and surveyed us in the moonlight. I kept fidgeting and shaking, sending out my energies as best I could. A few minutes in, Gianna rose and approached ET, who sat to my right. My heart surged at the opportunity. I brushed back my hair and readied myself to catch her attention in the near-total darkness.

ET did not need assistance, so Gianna turned to walk back to her place in the circle. I bolted up as straight as I could without standing, staring at her with desperation. She saw me. She felt me. She leaned in and simply asked – Are you ok?
No. No, I’m not. I shook my head to emphasize.
What are you feeling?
I brushed my hair back again and tried not to scream.
I’m terrified.
Do you want to purge?
I nodded. She nodded. I rose and tried to follow her.

Walking to the bathroom took everything I had. I felt like it was a plank of sorts, that more dark depths awaited my plunge. It couldn’t be any worse though. That was my only consolation. It couldn’t be more frightening or painful. And it might even help.

We got to my tiny downstairs bathroom, and as soon as the door shuffled shut, I collapsed on the floor. Gianna gave me a handful of beautiful, comforting words – things I did not hear. I hovered over the toilet and sobbed.

She handed me a liter of salt water and asked me to drink.
I tried, but the feel of the water on my lips repulsed me. I shook my head and kept rocking back and forth.
Take it, she told me. It will help you purge.
And so I tried again – and failed. As I took in the tiniest thread of liquids, I felt an immediate need to spit it out – yet the purge didn’t come. I was frozen in hell.

Then she spoke the words that started to crack me open.

You know, it’s interesting how you won’t take the water. You won’t take the one thing that could help you. There’s still a part of you that wants to be here, Kitty. There’s still a part of you that doesn’t want this help.

I stopped the incessant moving to truly listen. And I knew she was right. I nodded slowly and stared at the toilet water as it swirled and beckoned in the candlelight. Then I grabbed the salt water and sucked down as much as I could.
A few seconds later, my release began.

I purged with a viscous energy, yet almost silently so. My body rejoiced at the letting-go, and my mind kicked into overdrive. What does this mean? What am I purging? How did I get here? How do I heal?

I saw it so clearly then – my face so relaxed and willing to purge for eternity, it floated just above the splashing liquids. I saw what it was I was resisting.

It wasn’t death or sanity or pain that I didn’t want to know. It was just the opposite. Ayahuasca had been gently, and then not so gently, showing and telling me about all the ways I had been content to play small. Across the board, I had been playing it safe in my world, refusing to acknowledge my own power and divinity. This was her cosmic bitch slap, as the only option I allowed was a full-on onslaught. I refused to hear her any other way. And there I was, puking and shaking and sobbing – and recognizing – TRULY feeling – how much of God I really was. Am. Always will be.

There was nothing tangible in this epiphany – it was just a supreme Knowing. I am afraid of what it means to be God, to step forward and claim the dharma that has been waiting for my eyes-opened self. All of my attachments raced into view – everything from the materialistic (my house! my car!) to the illusion of security (my job!) to all the many people I cling to (Orion! Sage! Best Friend!)
But I laid them all down, as best I could. As the demons flew out of me, so did the need to cling to everything that made me feel safe. I know, of course, that my willingness to let them go – to truly lose them, if that’s what’s for our highest good – is the only way to prevent losing them all together. In those moments I spent with Gianna at the toilet, I was ready to give everything I had, and everything I ever was, in order to be free.

When the purging stopped, I knew it wasn’t over. But I also knew I wasn’t going to get to the pot of gold that night. I was still holding on.

Do you have more to purge? she asked me.
I nodded, but told her – It won’t happen now.

It was time to go back to the circle. I knew this. Before I gathered my courage and clarity, I sat in the energies for a few more moments, positively blown away by the profundity. I didn’t have the answers, didn’t know how exactly I would learn to embrace who I really was, but I had the experience of feeling my greatness. I knew, too, that it was no more or less than anyone else’s, yet I realized the supreme gift of getting an inkling of what lies within.

I thanked Gianna in my tear-filled whisper-breath, and she beamed an angelic reply.
We are each other’s saviors, I thought to myself. But we can really only save ourselves.

Off I went to continue the journey. . .the night was far from over.

“It must be worth losing
If it is worth something.”
Miss Amos

To be continued. . .

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Ayahuasca Ceremony #18 Part 1: Screaming for a Life Raft

April 28, 2009 by poetkitty

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The day between ceremony 17 and 18, in retrospect, felt like the ending / beginning of Gaspar Noe’s emotional onslaught film “Irreversible”. Full of sweet innocence, naps in a sunshine drenched park, organic eats with radiant beings. We all quietly frolicked in our aftermaths, some of us touting a few battle scars, but with excited grins, rather than winces and complaints. A beautiful, perfect, serene handful of hours – save a couple of dark side waves.

After only a couple hours of sleep, Orion and I still had a quiet energy, a strong resolve, to float through our happy post-hours. His experience was fun, but not as deep as he had hoped — mine was devastatingly deep, and I just felt relieved to be back in the default zone. Tasting my illusion of control, but content with its falsities. I needed a time out, a little softness. He provided as much with his sweet kisses and coos and love-laden words. I didn’t want to leave the safety of his arms, but I felt the attachment to this state and instead chose to face the day.

It seemed like just minutes had passed, and suddenly, we were moments away from the next ceremony. I felt within a blend of tidal waves – surge after surge of emotion I had never, ever felt prior to an Ayahuasca ceremony before – apprehension. Dare I say fear. Resistance to whatever she had to teach me. The night before had kicked my ass, and the higher parts of myself knew it hadn’t been enough. I hadn’t popped, hadn’t been cracked open, and I felt a little terror considering how hard she’d have to come at me in order for the lesson to be heard.

And yet, I wanted to drink more than anything. I trusted her with every quivering thread of my being.

We drank in the same fashion as the night before – faster this time, as two people had bowed out. I missed Sage – he had been near me in night one, but had to jet to a family function that day. The last five ceremonies had featured his strong, driven presence, and there was a noticeable void. In my state, those are the energies I noticed most.

It took only thirty or so minutes before the medicine had me in her clutches. My mind lurched into turbo mode, hell bent on taking the wheel. Normally, I would have laughed at my ego’s attempts, but this night – this night, I was her. I wanted what she wanted. To have an easy night, to not go too deep, to stay in the room and help and stay far, far away from my demons. Hadn’t I suffered enough the night before? Couldn’t I just take it easy, just this one night?

The more I fought and pleaded, the more she wrestled and assaulted me. I felt my worst nightmare starting to brew – intensity like I have never, ever known – wretched images of fractal demons and grotesque creatures – god-awful energies coursing through my pores, making me twitch and wretch and breathe sporadically – and most notably, the sounds: screeching sirens, pulsing groans, and the most evil, blood-boiling cacophony. Like Satan’s favorite video game, a soundtrack to a snuff film – these were the noises that I couldn’t escape. I’d slam my hands over my ears and the ebb would swell with a snickering eruption. I had been sucked into the underworld.

Parts of my Knowingness kept speaking from the abyss. It’s ok, she told me – this is all self-created, there is nothing to fear. You can surrender into this terror and find your bliss. Just relax, sweet girl, just breathe. You are safe. You are love.

But she was a liar. I could barely breathe anymore, the darkness had me consumed. Every one of my senses felt annihilated by death and fear and an imminent destruction. I asked myself – what is it that you’re so afraid of?
It wasn’t dying. It wasn’t any sort of physical harm. At that moment, I was afraid of losing myself. Ironic, as that’s precisely what I had asked for.

Sixty minutes in, and I was near the breaking point. Eighteen ceremonies, I thought to myself, and yet here I was – a fucking novice about to lose complete control. Anger spilled out of me as I twitched and jerked my body around, trying to fling off this nightmarish energy, trying to make this fucking go away already. I hated this experience more than I had ever hated anything. Anyone. It HAD to stop. This was too much, even for me. Even for the big-mouthed shaman-wanna-be who talked her gigantic game. I had reached my limit.

I slammed my head back against the wall behind me and contemplated my options. The most probable felt like complete insanity – I thought this might just be the point at which I experienced my psychotic break. Images of bolting up in a raging explosion, screaming at them all to make this stop, telling the whole damn world how horrible this made me feel appeared in rapid succession. I didn’t want to expose myself though, to frighten my beloved travelers, but I couldn’t cage this. I couldn’t contain this terror any longer.
Another option – I could ask for help. Something I had never attempted in all my shamanic journeys. This was not my way. I shouldered things for others, and handled my own shit without incident. I am not the girl who needs a hand. Am not. Ever.
Well, maybe now I am. What would that look like? I tried pondering this as another wave of desperate darkness simmered up inside me. This was the last one I could take. Self-destruction felt like such a real possibility, I clung to the tiny spec of intelligent light that glowed within, and prepared to do the unthinkable.

To be continued . . .

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Ayahuasca Ceremony #17 Part 3: All The Things I Would Not Hear

April 22, 2009 by poetkitty

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The medicine has taken me to a place I’ve never been by now – it’s my 17th dance with her, and yet I’m feeling the folds of the unfamiliar start to overwhelm my senses. The good news – my ego is almost-silent, so flabbergasted by the intensity that the internal “This is happening and that means that and blah blah blah” nonsense has faded to a hoarse little whimper. The bad news – I do not like it here.

My body is reflecting this resistance. She is in part a trembling, manically twitching vessel, trying desperately to control the coursing energies, to prevent the fearful slide into the dark beyond. I can hear the wretched hums and buzzes of the underworld, a place I know too well, and my body joins the ego in saying – no thanks. We’re not loving the deep dive.
At the same time, I am moving in slow motion. I am aware of how cold and thirsty I am, and very soon, I become cognizant of the inevitable purge. The liquids are moving through me, bringing my emotions to the surface – asking me to feel the pain of self-destruction. I reach for my bucket like a snail stretching out to cross the finish line – fearful of making a sound, of drawing attention to my not-ok-ness, of disrupting the meditative flow of those around me. Slowly, slowly the bucket reaches my face, and I release – a tiny purge, hardly satisfactory, and just a tiny bit symbolic. The bigger message is not what I let go in the release, but what I held on to.

I’m not listening.

I’m playing the Ayahuasca game my way. Despite my universal knowledge of this futile effort, I refuse to surrender. My double dose has me so far gone, however, I can almost feign ignorance. She is being gentle with me, allowing me to skirt the truths and keep sailing around the room – in service, and in escape. I keep focusing on other people’s pain, other people’s bliss, instead of owning my own. I know there will be repurcussions. I know, and yet persist.

It seems inconceivable, but the ceremony has suddenly ended – the Shaman has lit a candle, and the crew moves in a circle around him. I am the last to join, wondering how on earth I’m supposed to function in such an altered state. The Shaman speaks to us, but all I hear is a beautiful music – I cannot piece together his words, cannot even pull out one for context. My head rests in my lap, and I am still moving, shaking, rocking – my body’s attempt to distract me from the insanely potent insides.
It’s working. I feel very little, only awe at the depth. My ego keeps me at the surface, praising me for surviving another ceremony, another waltz into the unknown. Only I didn’t go willingly this time, and part of me knows this. The part of me in lockdown.

An hour goes by, and the circle is animated now – talking and telling tales. Things I am aware of but cannot hear. I finally remember that Orion is with me, that maybe I could reach out to him and connect. That maybe he’d like to know where and how I am.
I look across to meet his gaze, and his is twinkling. We lock eyes and I watch his mouth curve up into a playful, loving smile.
This is what I need. I melt inside myself and scuttle across the floor to fall into his lap, burying my face into his beautifully rhythmic stomach. He whispers a thousand I Love Yous into my ear, and I am consumed with the connection. So blessed, so grateful. So much in love with him.

At some point, my bladder wins the protest battle, and I test my legs as I wobble to the bathroom. I gain confidence from the success of this venture, and instead of rejoining the circle, I head straight upstairs to my bedroom. The cats have been calling me – I feel them. I can’t stay away anymore.

As soon as I enter my room and collapse into bed, all three felines scamper up to bathe in my energies. Boo, the soul cat, is particularly bonded – he lays with me for hours in a contented cuddle-purr. They are fur-filled, loving distractions – bringing me to a peaceful, contented space.

And Orion – he is such a King – rushing up to check on me every 15 or so minutes, then rejoining the group to report back. I cannot speak when he arrives, save a few I Love Yous and coo-ing giggles, but I am so grateful for his love and affection.

The night is spent inside this dance, and finally, Orion and I sleep. I’m not in the least bit sure of my lessons at this point – and I have to admit, I’m a little more than fearful of the next ceremony – just a handful of hours away. I feel the ominous foreshadowing, yet, as has been my theme for the recent endeavor, I am pretending not to know.

The truth is coming.

“Can’t stop what’s coming
Can’t stop what is on the way.”
- Tori Amos

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