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, The Duo (shaman and attendant) started up another round of magnificent music. D1 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
