Myself and one of the awesome little ones lucky enough to call the jungle Home
Strap on in; the spirits await.
Z and I flew down to the Amazon on April 19th, pushing our way through his head cold illness and a whole lotta fatigue to find the womb of the world waiting. This was my third trip, and traipsing through the jungle in those first moments felt more like a homecoming than a trip away from home. My feminine energy seethed, my womb wiggled and my blood bubbled up in cosmic gratitude. Let the ascension begin.
We met our fellow journeyers – beautiful people, every last one. Folks who were reverent and curious and perfectly flawed, looking to heal themselves so they could give the gift on to the rest of the world. I felt so unbelievably honored to share the shamanic dive with such amazing souls.
We worked on our intentions, helped create the Ayahuasca brew, bonded with the shaman, and found the strength to surrender. I and a couple of other peeps had experienced Ayahuasca before, but most were newbies, which excited me beyond words. Watching people transform in the hands of the plants – that’s my idea of reality entertainment. Like the time lapse photography of a orchid in bloom. Perfection.
Our first ceremony occurred on night 2 – faster than usual, but we had much to accomplish. I felt electric, if only a tad anxious. Don Rober, the magnificent, words- cannot-express-how-amazing shaman, began our ritual in the usual fashion; with blessings, with Quecha songs, and with many puffs from the Mapacho, the sacred tobacco. We were ready to fly.
I sat near the end of the semi-circle, watching each of my companions suck down the brew. The first ceremony in any cycle is normally mild by comparison, and the medicine (Ayahuasca) somehow tastes less rancid. It’s as if my cellular memory hadn’t yet kicked back in. The brew went down easy, and I shuffled back to my rocking chair, wrapped up in the woven blanket, blew Z and kiss, and closed my eyes to heal.
She took about 20 minutes or so to fully begin to shift me, and by then, the lights were completely out. In contrast of my last journey, we sat in the dark of the moon, so no light found it’s way into our ceremonial maloka. This didn’t phase me. Darkness is beauty too, after all. As I felt Ayahuasca start to simmer up within, I found myself in an infinite smile. The real homecoming. I asked to release my body and just experience the other side, if only for a few moments. Instead, my Daddy appeared.
I knew I’d see Dad on this trip. When I said good-bye to him at his funeral in February, I knew another hello was just a few weeks away. I didn’t expect him to be so turbo, however – that wasn’t his way in life, but I rejoiced. Jesus appeared to me again – just as during my last cycle – but it was a lightning fast introduction; he swept in front of me with a smile, kissed my cheek, and disappeared, revealing my Dad. And my, what a reunion we had…
I felt him dive around me, our energies embracing. But as I blinked to take him in again, there was nothing; he had disappeared. I’m still here, he told me. It was just hard to appear in the physical form. He spent a lot of time working with me, teaching me to recognize his presence without the use of my unreliable eyes. I felt his hands on mine and I cried an ocean. It felt so magnificent to have Daddy back again. He told me how proud he was of my rebellion, of my courage in finding an alternative spiritual path. He was a rebel, too, and in the end, he acknowledged our similarities. Things that never happened in the Before.
Daddy drifted behind me, offering me strength and support, as the visions intensified. I saw decapitations, wellsprings of bloody water, morphing bodies and faces, and a whole smattering on nonsensical, intensely fast-moving images. This was my mind clutter, spewing out in a visual form. All this crap had to purge in order to get to my core.
As expected, I felt the purge rising up as the clutter pushed forward. I didn’t resist her. I leaned in with a grin into my bucket, expelling a few poisons and feeling 80 pounds lighter. Then I heard the room start to erupt in other purgings, and I felt so fucking alive. I couldn’t help smiling, couldn’t help marveling at how absolutely fantastic this process was. I was home I was home I was home.
I never wanted to leave.
The rest of the night cascaded me with vibrance and strength, showing me futures and pasts and endless streams of animals, asking for my help. Begging me to stop the madness. My animal spirit, the majestic Jaguar I call Sacha, appeared with a mischievious grin; also thrilled to have me back. My cat Boo appeared, diving in for love as well, but every last pair of eyes beckoned for my protection. I listened. I promised. I melded with their energies.
So much gratitude. So much joy. And yet, I resisted – I felt it and said hello. WHy would I do that, I wondered? An obvious answer – because I connect too much with the balance of things. I started to feel anxiety around my bliss, knowing that pain must be around the corner.
But I need not create that, my voice echoed. I need not fear the other side – only to be present for these joyful lessons.
I plastered on a grin and just freaking let go. And it was unspeakably blissful.
And then a message came through; one I had heard before, but needed reminding. There’s no such thing as death. It doesn’t exist.
All the same, she said, prepare yourself – you’re going to die soon. It just has to be.
I came back into the room and into my body toward the end of the ceremony, as the shaman sealed us up, and as I walked with Z back to our cozy room, I pondered this coming death. I welcomed it. I knew it would be beautiful.
