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 D2 – 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, D2, 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. D2 didn’t move – she sat next to D1 and surveyed us in the moonlight. I kept fidgeting and shaking, sending out my energies as best I could. A few minutes in, D2 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 D2 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. D2 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 D2 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 D2 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. . .
