Hangin’ out in a jungle hut
There’s a million and one things to do before now and Tuesday morning, when I hop a plane to the jungle and find myself. That’s a comfort. It’s necessary to stay busy, lest I fall into a blackish hole and flounder.
I have coffee right this very moment, AND I found out ‘Bucks is open on Christmas day, so guess where I’ll be hanging tomorrow? That’s a gift from the Universe if ever there was one.
By the way, I can’t count. Or read, apparently. I was eyeballing the Amazon site today, and it seems as though I’m in for FIVE Ayahuasca ceremonies this time around, plus the two Huachuma doses. I did three last time and I distinctly remember thinking there’s no way in hell I could ever do more. Ever. Hah. As the subject says, why the hell not?
The hardest part in my heart right now is the way in which I’ll be cut off from the outside world. The first time around, that didn’t matter so much. I had Seeker, the boyfriend-of-the-moment, at my side, and I thought that would be my sanctuary. He proved to be the opposite, but that’s completely OK. This time, my *real* other half is hanging in Australia, toiling through those difficult family epiphanies, and wrapping his wings around me as I venture to far away locales. Not having his heavily accented voice to soothe me when I hit Breakdown is already triggering a bit of panic. I know it’s perfect. I know it will empower us all the more. But the little girl in me just wants to get her way.
That little girl is about to be purged and torn to pieces. Seven total shamanistic ceremonies should tear me a new identity, closer to the core than I ever thought possible. Right now, wow, I’m *really* excited. I am so privileged to have such experiences. To get to know myself in unimaginable ways, and to come back and find unity with the people I love. Z, Judy pie, RyRy, Pisces – and so many more. I’m doing this for them as much as for myself. It’s about time I learn to give back.
