PoetKitty's Shaman / Enlightenment Blog

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.