Part 1 of the Earth Medicine Weekend Extravaganza #2 outlined the magical safety / wilderness day that led us into day 2 – aka, The Hot Hot Sweat Lodge soiree.   A sweat lodge!  I was so antsy and excited to really *experience* one of these – so primal and ancient and detoxifying.  I had risen super early that morning to meditate and prepare, bringing my four precious plant parts in tow, so that I may not only honor the four winds / directions, but call on them to communicate with me, and lift me up when needed.  I felt all kinds of enforcements around me – therefore I felt no fear, just a quiet, yet very amped, resolve.

The sweat lodge structure is in the back of Teacher’s yard.  It’s a very small, igloo shaped creation, made of criss-crossing sticks.  The shape intentionally resembles a turtle – within this shape, we can and do recreate the womb, so that we may feel safe to heal and release whatever comes up.  About 3 paces outside of the sweat lodge sits the big fire pit.  This required our attention first – we piled in 34 large lava rocks and dozens more pieces of wood, kindling and paper.  As we lit the fire, each of us kept an eager watch on two things – 1) the strength of the fire, so as not to reach any sort of danger zone level and 2) to see the spirit of this particular fire dance into the mix.  Every fire has it’s own spirit, it’s own essence, and we watched to see who would be communing with us.  A fierce, energetic, powerful force?  A more gentle, playful, loving embrace?  Something in between?  Eyes stayed transfixed as the energies grew.

Teacher called the fire department to let them know of our inferno, and we received interesting news – our time may be limited, as the wind gods were expected to start howling in a few hours.  So we stood around the fire and asked it to please not dilly dally – we needed full force flames, and fast, por favor.  Likewise, dear gods that create the billowing gusts, please hold off on said swooshes until after our little ceremony, yes?

To prepare the space, we first had to create a seal.  We took dozens of blankets and tossed them around the turtle stick-mold – blankets on top of blankets on top of blankets.  Then we sealed the bottom edge with rocks, ensuring that absolutely no trace of light could be seen on the inside.  On top of the blankets went a black tarp – for darkness, and to trap in that all-important HEAT. Hallelujah.

Once the lodge was all good to go, we awaited our new friend, Mr. Fire Tender.  Even Teacher had never met this kind soul – he was brand new to the area and had contacted her about participating in sweat lodge ceremonies, as he’s an old pro.  And as luck would have it, we needed a Fire Tender.   He arrived and in an instant, I knew we were in good hands.  A warm, smiley Libra man with an old soul to boot.  Jackpot.  Everything was in place.  The fire’s spirit was a docile yet spunky one, and he had infused the lava rocks with loads of healing heat.  Knowing it was Time, we opened with a prayer, followed the path into inside of the sweat lodge, and began the next phase of our ceremony.

Round 1 honored the spirits of the South – the playful, intuitive, happy parts of ourselves.  We’d start it off on a festive note.  Fire Tender brought in 7 hot lava rocks and rested them in the small pit in the center of the lodge.  The tiny space got instantly toasty with just one rock – by the time all 7 were in place, I was already coated in moisture.  All of us got out our South plant spirit helpers, and Teacher opened the Round with a lovely prayer / song.  Then, one by one, we went around and offered our own individual prayers.  We were free to cry, sing, giggle, talk – whatever was moving through us.  We remembered, too, the experience we had with our South spirit plant the day before, and much of that came rolling through the lodge as well.  I went third, so grateful to the other beautiful folks who got the party started, and I just went for it.  By this time, I was already feeling the effects of the heat, and so incredibly comforted by the immense darkness.  I spoke outloud to my higher self, and thanked my inner child for leading me to such bliss.  I let the happy tears flow, and expressed the immense gratitude that bubbled up and out of every pore.  Then I sang “I am so blessed, I am so grateful” for a few rounds, tossed my South spirit plant into the fire, and felt my heart rip wide open.

The round lasted somewhere around 30 minutes, and once we had all said our peace, Teacher asked for FT to open the door.  The cool air felt freaking fantastic.  We were all absolutely drenched, but crazy exhilarated.  I already felt like a shinier version of myself.  Yes, the heat was intense.  Yes, I had a little dialogue inside that worried we wouldn’t be able to take four rounds – I mean, what if we couldn’t breathe?  What if we had to ask to get out early?  I knew the rules around such things – Teacher asked that we express what our needs were before going for the door.  To ask for help from all that were there to assist – human and spirit – before succumbing to the egoic desire to get the hell out.  I loved the idea of this process.  I knew that naming my fears instantly deflated them, and that was empowering.  So really, there was no fret running through me.  Three more rounds?  Bring it.

Round 2 honored the West – our warrior spirits.  We fished out the West plants from the day before, and started this round in a much different fashion.  Teacher had handed out lyrics to an amazing Ayahuasca song called “All is Welcome Here”, and we sang that to call in the right energies – right after 7 more rocks were added to the lodge.  As the door was sealed and the process began, I was immediately pounded with an entirely different energy.  Shit was this intense.  I clutched my warrior plant and begged, internally, for assistance.  I wasn’t sure I could last 5 minutes in this heat, but I focused on one breath at a time.  Teacher told us, after the opening prayer, to speak and cry and emote whenever we felt the urge.  There were no turns in this round – a free for all, and a really powerful one at that.  I cried a bit, and wailed a little, but mostly, I just spoke to all that was.  I marveled at how amazing it felt to just feel, without abandon.  To let everything come up and out and just be.  I struggled a lot, almost asking for the door a time or two, but I kept asking my body how she was, and she kept saying – I’m perfect.  Keep going.  And the room, wow was it bursting with power.  We all groaned and moaned and let these deep demons release out of us.  So beautiful and therapeutic. And then my most favorite revelation of the day come flooding through – as I called on the spirits to give me strength to make it through this, I felt my chest thrust out and my arms open wide.  ”A true warrior is undefended,” a voice whispered to me.  I sat awestruck by this thought.  Of course, yes – there is nothing to defend.  NOTHING to defend.  Against what was I defending?  LIfe?  I allowed my arms to remain outstretched and kept imagining my heart, completely exposed, seething in the oneness.  Then Teacher called for the door, and I collapsed at the opening, breathing in the cool and delicious air.

Are you altered?  She asked me.  I giggled and yelled YES, thank you!  I felt more normal than the regular waking spaces usually provided – unbridled, totally taken care of, deep into my true essence.  Wow.  We were all awestruck by the energy that was exploding in that space, and a couple of us exited the lodge to get some water, breathe, and grin like idiots.

Round 3 was for the spirits of the North – our elders.  Our ancient selves.  We had FT bring in 7 more rocks, and Teacher opened with another beautiful prayer / song.  Whereas the last round was full of intensity, this one felt more like a warm hug – soft, soothing, intensely quiet.  My posture was totally different too – I was literally falling into myself.  My chin buried into my chest, hair dancing around in sweat-soaked threads, arms embracing my legs.  I felt like an old child.  Strong.  Wise.  Calm.  The rest of my companions seemed to mirror this energy.  We did a free for all again with the prayers and emotions – but this time it was spoken, and not wailed.  We felt revelations coming in left and right – all these ancient gifts.  Breathing was easier, despite the increased heat.  One of the other apprentices echoed what I was thinking to myself – “I could stay here forever.”  At some point, we sacrificed our North plant pieces, and agreed it was time to move on.  The door opened, and we enjoyed fluids and cool breezes.  About 10 minutes later, the last round began.

The final direction honored was the East – our connection to spirit.  We all had this “go big or go home” energy about us, wanting to take full advantage of our last opportunity.  We invited FT to join us, after adding 7 more rocks (!), and it was marvelous to have his additional masculine wisdom.  He sang a song to open us up, and I just reveled in this incredible, altered, beautiful state.  I took huge, deep, gulping breaths of the sweat-laden air, soaking in the tobacco smells.  I had no tears this time, just a very full chest / heart, and more of that immense gratitude for yet another glorious adventure.  I could feel the toxins escaping every pore.  I could feel spirits literally lifting me up – clearing away the dark energies from my heart.  I remembered my best lesson for the day, over and over, saying to myself “I am an undefended warrior.”  I said very little except this – but that said plenty.  So happy.  So grateful.

And then it was over.  The door opened for the last time, and I piled out to lay in the dirt next to another apprentice, and relish the grounding gifts of Mother Earth.  We didn’t say much, the five of us. for the few minutes after the ceremony.  One of us, the Super Woman amongst us, jumped up to tend to the fire – put out the flames and secure the area.  The winds started picking up just as she did so, and I sent out a big thank you to them for waiting until we had completed our task.  Everything was in flow – so perfect.  So precious.

Once we all regained our strength, we enjoyed an incredible ceremonial meal, cooked by Teacher.  We each blessed a different dish – I got to bless the berries.  We ate the awesome food and positively beamed – all of us.  Such hard work, but such sacred work at that.  I knew I had a long drive ahead of me – 5 hours to Phoenix, where Orion would be waiting, and 5 more hours from there.  The ride home would be magnificent.  I knew that already.  But nothing would top this ceremony + meal for sometime.

And now – now I am cleansed, connected, and peaceful.  And looking to connect with locals who do Sweat Lodge ceremonies, as this was something I’d love to repeat.  Again and again.

Back on the eve of Christmas Eve, I found a rare quiet, completely solo night to myself, and felt it right to go deep with the plants again.  My previous Huachuma ceremony was my only to-date solo excursion with Grandfather Wisdom / San Pedro, and I felt like I learned volumes about the energies, especially when it came to me as conductor.  I was ready for round 2.

As always, I set intentions and created a sacred space for going in.  I felt it wise to keep intentions simple and direct this time, and asked the spirits to just show me truth – whatever that might be mean.  I had hit a big wall mentally as of late, and was bloody sick of my mind’s insistence that *she* knew the truth.  I wanted to consult with a higher source.  With that, I gulped down the vile concoction, lit my candles, laid out the mesa (display of sacred items that are used as powerful portals in-ceremony) and hunkered down for the reveal.

Right away, my head kicked into turbo mode.  She had a lot of input on this whole truth matter.  And all of it, out of the gate, was pretty freaking negative and constrictive.  She started making a laundry lists of all my blocks – the reasons I could not yet own the truth, and why it was only a dialogue in my head.  Observer-me disagreed.  We countered with a readiness, an openness, an insistence that no, higher self is ready to show herself.

Mind was having none of that.  She showed her muscle in full effect.

I kept trying to surpass the mind chatter, to dive deeper into the present moment.  But all my mind wanted to do was jerk me into the past or the future.  I curled up by the fireplace, eyes closed and contemplative, but internally, a bloody war bubbled up. Here was some sample chatter:

“The problem is you’re too damn lazy to advance past where you’re at, you hardly ever workout or meditate and besides that those things don’t work, it’s just banter from wanna-bes that masquerade as gurus, and you know better but even still you couldn’t be a guru, it’s not your time, there’s karma to pay for and the like, and you don’t even believe in karma, so good luck with that, because sheesh we are such posers, such a fake little role-player, even when you think you’re being real it’s just a game just a game just a game.”

To which another I within would respond “That’s not true!  SHOW ME TRUTH!”

We played this game for eons.  A few hours or more.  I had some poignant moments at the altar / mesa, but I started really illuminating the hamster in the wheel, spinning along in my humdrum head, trying to keep me from being present.  I felt that anchoring myself deep into the present moment would take me right into the heart of Huachuma’s power, and that I could find my real answers there.  So I scampered upstairs to the bedroom, turned off all the lights, slipped on a blindfold, and fell into sivassana – my favorite meditation pose.  Lying on my back, palms up to the skies, body relaxed and surrendered.

The games continued in my mind, even in this sincere effort to just relax and escape the brain banter.  Instead, she kicked it up another notch.  This time, she hit me with a challenge.

“I’ll show you what’s true.  I’ll show you I’m in control.  I’ll make your cell phone ring.”

“Bullshit you will, I turned my cell phone off when I came up here.”

On cue, the cell rang, and I about freaked out.  I didn’t pick it up, but stared intently at the unknown number.  Then I yelled my demand.

“Leave a message, and it better be TRUE!”

The voicemail bell chimed, and my heart freaked out.  I played the message and had to laugh at the irony.  

It was static.  Nothing but fuzz.  1 1/2 minutes of white noise.  At least we were getting closer – that felt more honest than the nonsense that had been stewing in the mind space all night, so I felt like progress had been made.

Back in meditation mode, things really got dicey.  I could not get around my mind.  She would lead me down a rabbit hole, baiting me with what felt like a real-time revelation, but before I knew it I’d be spelling out a grocery list, fretting about the upcoming Vipassana retreat, lamenting the lack of Orion’s naked body in the bed, on and on and on some more.  But as this volume exploded within, so did a few nuggets of wisdom.

“You can’t beat your mind at her game.  You’re using your mind to chase your mind – she’ll find darker and deeper holes to hide in, and you’ll never cease this game.  Don’t fight fire with fire.”

That, and:

“Use the tools you have in this illusion to *escape* the illusion.”

That one got me.  I had avoided calling on the spirits nestled in my objects of power, because I have come to own the true illusion of this maya-world.  But it struck me that these entities were no more or less real than, say, Orion.  Or Mac.  Or Pi.  And i”m aces at using them to help me out of the madness, so why not extend this to all the manifestations I have gifted myself with?

Yes, that was making serious sense.  And that simply meant I needed to take off the blindfold, go down to the mesa, and use Huachuma in the highest way possible.  With eyes and heart wide open.  Enough with the mind war.

I grabbed the book on my nightstand as I descended the stairs  - “Enlightenment for Beginners” by Chuck Hillig.   That seemed relevant.  I then turned on the Adyashanti recordings Orion had recently burned for me – tuned in to the “Direct Path” dialogue.  I had all guns a-blazin — tools to the hilt.

Truth was hitting me from all sides.  Adya talked about the blazing obsession with truth the most sincerest members of the spiritual path tend to uncover, and I resonated like a mad-woman.  He coupled that with the inevitable “aloneness” stage that hits fast and furiously, and I felt the tears flow as I knew that all too well.  Then I thumbed through Chuck’s book.  Holy cow did that do a number on my head.  It is a brilliant unfolding of – OMG – the truth of who we are!  The way we’ve projected every aspect of our worlds – the movie, the move screen, the projector, and the space between!  

And yet, eegawds, I was not satisfied.  Because it only felt like my mind was in the game – trying to insert herself into the “realness”, when in fact she was the ego-generated, and thus part of the illusion.  And so I didn’t *feel* this truth – it was only be intellectualized.  

But that would have to be enough.  I spent 8 hours in ceremony, tearing down the walls of illusion, and the end result was both profound and meaningless.  Yes, I owned into the core of my being that my mind does not hold the path to enlightenment – she will never share anything but relative truths.  And yes, I once again confirmed that I am – we all are – part of one masterful, God-head awareness.  And that I wasn’t any more or less enlightened than Jesus – I just wasn’t ready to step into that full realization.  I could feel him, and all the other masters, calling to me, whispering “wake up wake up wake up” into my ear, and yet – that block.  That ceiling.

I laughed it off and said thank you to my spirit friends for showing me all this and more.  I couldn’t force it – another priceless message.  My wanting truth wasn’t enough – I had to own my own integrity in every single moment, stay present and detached, and let grace do her thing – if, and when.

Tough lessons, but beautiful all the same.  I climbed back into bed exhausted, brow-beaten, but a little bit wiser in the heart-space.  And ready to get up the next morn and keep on keepin’ on.

“I run into your thought from across the room
Just another trick
Can I weather this
I’ve got a fever above my waist
You got a squeeze box on your knee
I know the truth is in between the 1st and 40th drink”

-Miss Tori A

Click to Listen

I was recently featured on a local radio show, yapping away about shamanism, ayahuasca, huachuma / san pedro, and  liberation. Take a listen at MetaMysticRadio.com – choose the December 16th interview with Kitty.  I actually think it went super well – CJ is a great informal interviewer and we had a ball.

In other news. . .

Yay for holidaze – especially since Orion will likely actually be here, a rarity for an on-call pilot.  Sounds like I get serious family time, which makes me all a-flutter.  I still have such easy access to the childish bliss associated with presents and cookies and seeing other lovees glow.  I can’t wait to see Hijo open the presents I corralled for him – my first year to spoil a child, and I took full advantage.  

I can’t help but be nostalgic.  Not for what’s been lost in the last year, but what’s been found.  Love like no other, a gaggle of incredibly bonded and spiritually connected Vegas friends, and a *stepson* for crying out loud.  Who would have guessed?  Certainly not me.  But the treasures of the last year have taught me to let go of any “me” notions, and let the universe have her way.  My way would have meant a lack of vulnerability and certainly no mommy roles.  My way was clearly far too limited.

If I had to give the year a word, I’d call it Paradoxical.  I systematically dropped just about every known belief structure, chucking out the validity of everything from aliens to egos.  And then picked them all up again in all their glorious unreal-realism.  I’ve come to know the world as a dream, but one I have full manifested control over, yet can’t control at all.  How come both be true?  Because they are.  It just is, and I love it.  Welcome to duality.  But try on non-dualism while you’re at it.

I’m going to embark on a huachuma ceremony later today, with the intention to drop all notions of myself completely.  Huachuma is the ultimate illuminator – capable of lifting the veil of illusion and showing those who walk through his portal what really is.  ”I” will choke down a few mugs of this not-so-condensed putrid plant and welcome his wisdom so deep within, I become nothing.  And in that space, “I” will find . . .whatever is waiting.  The I within wants to know the highest way to work with him as well – how to best integrate his dream-like lessons in this dream-filled world.  And I think I’ll visit Jesus too, maybe bring him in a birthday card.  We can celebrate the un-ness of everything.  Oh, irony.

And that’s about the extent of my current profundity – not much more relevatory than a James Cameron film, I know.  This is stage one of today’s big clearing-out process.

“Love / Is watching / someone die”  - Death Cab

Serpent Mesa, Howard Lawler, Amazon

I had procured Huachuma cactus sometime ago, with the intention of embarking on a sacred ceremony in the near future. A little blurb was scribbled into my to-do list recently: “Schedule Huach. Ceremony”. I guess by that I meant: “Dive in, and fast.”

Orion went forth on another vision quest recently. When he returned from the last one, I (seemingly) fell to pieces. There’s an inner conflict in me sometimes that spurs me into a competitive spirit with regards to this spiritual path wildness. I *know* how off kilter that kind of motivation is, spurred forth by a fear of being left behind, instead of a sincere knowingness about what’s right for me. But there’s a panic that has previously stirred, and she sometimes drives the bus right off the nearest cliff.

On this, his second trip to the desert, we were both in spectacular spaces. I have parred back my own “must do’s” in my spiritual path, and instead have found a groove that just feels right. My own. Mind you, there’s a whole lotta objection going on internally at times, telling me I’m not doing enough, or that I’m doing things incorrectly, but I’m learning more and more to reign that in and just be as I need to be. And let Orion do the same. Lately, that’s not only been working, I’ve also surrendered to the beautiful task of elevating him all the more. What’s my biggest (small) fear, anyway? That he reach the top of the mountain first? Pshaw. There is no worst case in this mixture. I would be so, so honored to be by his side and witness such an opening. He is not only my partner, he is a very tangible extension of my own consciousness. As each of us receives new openings and expansions, so does the other – it’s the magic of this oneness. So yes, I know better. But I don’t always show it.

He went out some days ago, and I felt thrilled for him. Another chance to slip past the egoic spaces and connect with his divinity. There can never be too many. As I pondered my evening’s events, however, something occurred to me – I have Huachuma at home. I, too, can have a journey.
But I wondered – is this in integrity? Am I motivated by the desire to “keep up”, or does this feel destined?
I asked the universe for a sign and received what I felt was a very, very clear one – affirming the timing and the rather spontaneous idea. I was off to the races.

This was my first solo ceremony, my first experience finding my own brew. I had some powdered cactus, the same varietal I had used in Peru, and I had already researched preparations and dosages. So I lay out all my favorite mesa items – objects of power and inspiration – and lit some candles, then I mixed up a big glass of San Pedro goodness.
Goodness? No – thick, putrid, stomach vile-tasting nastiness is more like it. Thankfully, it’s common practice to chase the drink with lemon water, and that helps neutralize the flavor. Plus, Grandfather Huachuma hasn’t got anything on Mother Ayahuasca when it comes to taste. About 30 minutes later, I had downed my targeted amount, and the journey began.

Huachuma is so different from Aya. Where the latter is like an axe wielding maniac sometimes, diving into my consciousness with a brute force I couldn’t dream of combating, the former is more like an uber-intense electrical current, but one you actually have to reach out and touch. He pulses with every aspect of life, and within him swirls every secret, and every bit of knowledge. But he makes you work for it. He asks that you come to him – with reverence and sincerity, curiosity and surrender.

The night unfolded elegantly. I walked around a lot, asking questions on the insides, finding more of myself. And at other times, I lay curled up by the fireplace, transfixed on the flame licks, and on the movement of the mesa. I was shown the backside of my fears, revealed to be empty. Like a theater curtain hiding a stage that sounds like it’s bustling with activity, but in fact doesn’t contain a soul. Yes, of course. My fears are all self-made, and non-existent at that. There’s nothing behind them to make them tangible or real. I loved this reveal. And so many more.

He basically kept guiding me through different layers of life and divinity. I felt humbled and cocooned, but also confused and amateurish. I sat at the mesa absolutely awestruck by the tools I had before me, but without the knowledge of how to really use them. I felt a calling to find a local huachumero and huachumera – someone who can show me how to work with these energies, rather than just fumbling blindly in the dark by myself. I trust the teacher will find me when the timing is right. And it’s not as if I didn’t learn an immense volume of tricks and gifts – I just know my training will be accelerated when I find a true master.

The entire evening, my main experience was safety. A sense of cocooned protection so real it had a taste to it – rather like soil and feathers, cotton and rosemary. He showed me the highest way to work with his energies – outside, in daylight. Do regular journeys in this fashion, and then the occasional nighttime journey when I had the need to integrate. He showed me how on Huachuma, I’m able to see things as they really are – there’s nothing magical in his visions, only the removal of our conscious barrier. The veil that normally sweeps across my mind’s eye is dissolved by San Pedro, and with practice and concentration, I can make this a permanent experience.

And that’s when it hit me. Why the alternate name for Huachuma is San Pedro. I translated this in my head – Saint Peter. Who is Saint Peter? The man who greets us at the gates of heaven.
Aw yes, the one who will lead me to enlightenment.
It all just. . .clicked. This was *my* path – at least in the given moment. I allowed for the chance to drop shamanism from my experience at any time, but also owned the rightness of our current connection. Perfection. I glowed for hours.

And yet, there was a single distortion – I knew down deep I hadn’t been totally honest with myself, or San Pedro. I had taken this journey out of fear, in a way – not wanting to miss out on my chance to go deep, just like Orion. I confessed this to San Pedro, and he held no judgment. Just warmth. He acknowledged this truth, and said he’d take me however I came to him. That my reverence was no less diminished, but if I wanted to, I could heal that part of me. The small child, the little girl who didn’t want to be left behind. The critic who always tells me I’m never doing enough.

I didn’t go as deep into that healing as I know I will with Ayahuasca, but it opened, and some revelations came through. Seedlings. It won’t be long now.

Yet this distortion still had some spike left to it. When Orion came home, things started out beautifully. We shared our stories, and I basked in the glow of his magnificent experience. We were so happy for ourselves and each other, heart-spaced, clear, open – all good things.

Until an odd little chat on the bed turned into a painful shift – all because I wouldn’t fess up. I didn’t admit to being out of integrity in my motivation (although that’s not what the conversation was about, that was the underlying unconscious out-of-whack energy), and therefore lost my grip on my clarity all together. It was a subtle slip, but Orion saw through it in an instant. He called me out and I denied it. And that caused a riff that would unravel, rather magically, in the next 48 hours.

As Pranananda says, intent is 90% of the game. Since mine was about 20% laden in a lie, the repercussions were waiting. And I loved every one.

Yes, I had admittedly wasted the better half of this cosmic ceremony, consumed by fears that I’d return to the out-of-control terror I visited in ceremony 17. Yet something in me stronger than any meager fear had awakened once more, and I called into my awareness a deeper experience. The kind I never used to fear.

Ayahuasca is nothing if not a giver – she responders to the intentions of the drinker in a staggeringly tangible fashion. So there was no shock when I sincerely called to her to pull me into her clutches, and she in turn started up the fireworks. I knew that the medicine was far past the crazy intense point, and there wouldn’t be any more chances to drink. Yet Ayahuasca forgave me for my previous trepidation, and the games began – albeit a wee delayed.

I had really only one question and request – please release me from this fear. Get me back to the point of trusting Miss Aya, the process of the ceremonies, and most importantly, my higher self. I can’t really communicate what it is that started transpiring, but things began dissolving in me – like an Alka Seltzer tab plunked in a vat of water, my weak little anxieties fell into the ethers.

The music kept surging wave after wave of emotion in me. I cried / sobbed / wailed openly now, letting this be my tangible purge. I had had a mini-purge earlier in the evening, during a bathroom visit, but like everything in those early hours it was very half-assed. This sob fest was a legitimate outpour. Like many such recent sessions, I didn’t really know the stories behind the emotive releases, but that didn’t much matter – I needed this.

I knew, in part, that I was purging my self-hatred. I even hated myself for still having so much hatred to release – part of the fuel that burned in the self-destructive fires. But inside of me, I felt the hands of various well-intended spirits, reaching deep and pulling out the poisons. God, what a gorgeous release. I felt at times I might be weightless by the time the evening came to an end.

I once again connected to the people in the room as well – grateful that the illusion of separation had also fallen away. I saw Orion’s feet moving manically off in the far corner, outstretched in front of his beautiful body and quasi-dancing to the infectious rhythms. And oh my God the love I felt then – the overflowing adoration that I should be blessed enough to call him Partner. I felt the walls I still held between us, and visually pulled them away, feeling instead the sheer power of our bond. I drank in the vibes and said thank you to him – the only way I knew to send him what I was feeling.

I laid back on my cushions then and blissed out. My legs fell open, exposing every chakra to the surrounding energies. My palms faced upwards – every piece of me was in receiving mode. I wanted whatever she had to give. I saw images of women around me – everywhere I looked, goddess-like creatures stared down upon me, casting protective layers and infusing me with strength and remembrance. No more pretending, they told me. No more forgetting that I was one of them.

I reveled in these energies, still laying on my back and staring up into the cosmos. My mind had completely drifted away, allowing the rest of me to soak in the experience. Suddenly, I felt the most tangible vision arrive – I could literally feel Orion’s lips cascading kisses down my forehead and cheeks. The sensation only lasted a few moments – he whisked in above me, showered me with affection -then totally disappeared. So vivid, so real. Could it be he really just did that? It seemed improbable – contact with anyone in the circle was strictly against the rules, in the event it pulled someone out of a delicate yet important meditation or vision. But the timing was so blessed and the gesture so appreciated. Orion wouldn’t break the rules, I surmised. So it couldn’t have been real.
Oh wait. Jesus, of COURSE he would break the rules. This is Orion we’re talking about.
Then it must have been real. I giggled at his audacity, and the sincerity of his affections. How beautiful that we could be so in love, and to share nights like these.

I sent out a wish then, to Ayahuasca – I asked her if I might have the chance to take care of him soon. It felt imbalanced in that fashion – Orion was always in such a capable, take-charge position. So strong and together. I hoped down deep that I might get to repay the favor – to help him through a time out of sorts, whatever the source may be. Paybacks. The least I could do.

The end of the evening started to loom – I knew this because I noticed the shaman and his attendant had begun the physical healings. They attend to each person and followed spiritual guidance, gifting each participant with the exact amount and location of required healing. They came to me, and I still lay on my back. The shaman immediately began tapping my third eye in time with the music playing in the background, and his gorgeous assistant did the same across my heart chakra. This totally and completely cracked me open. They sang the most uplifting, beautiful tune and kept tapping above me. I absolutely gushed – a dam burst within. It felt so, so magical. I had finally hit my center.

They worked on me for a much longer time than usual, but I knew I needed it and I kept sending internal gratitude. Then they moved on to Psychic sister next to me. Once they were finished with her, however, the shaman came back to me.

He whispered in my ear and I strained to make out his thickly accented words in my altered state.
“Kitty, do you remember the song I played before this? The harmonica tune?”
I did remember. It was freaking gorgeous, and part of what helped me to go so deep into myself and my heart.
I nodded.
“I have never played that before. It was an impromptu song, and as soon as I started to play it, I knew it was for you.”
I started crying even more then, so incredibly honored. He squeezed my shoulder and disappeared.

Not much time later, the ceremony ended. The candles were lit, and we were invited to merge into the circle and discuss our evening. I couldn’t say much – only commented on how much self-destruction I had connected with and purged. The shaman’s assistant / girlfriend honored my honest reveal, and told me about her similar path, and how important the work we all did was that evening. I listened to everyone else’s stories with awe.

Most poignantly, I noticed in an instant that my wish was granted. Orion had climbed next to me in the circle, but I suddenly felt how deep he still was into the experience. I wrapped one arm around him, and he immediately dove into my lap for an embrace. He stayed that way for the rest of the talking circle – head in my lap, falling into the loving transmissions of my fingers as they traced his scalp, neck, shoulders and back. I could tell how much he needed my protective energies, and I was so happy to be able to gift him with all I had.

At some point, however, another embrace beckoned to me – I saw my dear friend Leo laying rather motionless a few feet away, and rose to attend to him briefly. I lay down next to him and wrapped my arms around him. His breath drew in with a surprised yet deeply satisfied sigh, and we smiled and snuggled for several minutes. When I knew he felt how much I loved him, I kissed his forehead and returned to Orion.

At the end of the chatting, the attendant rose and disappeared in the kitchen. A few moments later, we all turned to see her emerging with a burning candle. Everyone started singing happy birthday, and I finally connected that the goodies were for me. I felt SO adored. Raw vegan cheesecake, dark chocolate, and these amazing raw cookies were all scattered on a plate. We all gobbled them and giggled, feeling festive and heart-spaced. More than a little relieved that the hard parts were over. And as I leaned down and sent my own cascade of kisses across Orion’s forehead and cheeks, all I could feel was my own goddess energy – reawakened, and mine to access.
There was no more fear. I had been cleansed again.

And yet, that’s not how these energies work. It seems the deeper I go these days, the less I know about what I’m really dealing with. The less I know myself and those around me. My ego is being dismantled, so the old knowingness is slowly ceasing to exist.

Going into the twentieth, I will at least concede there was slightly less fear than the previous evening. My darling ego-child still had her stronghold, however – I could feel the vice grip locking down on my being. No options, she told me. We were skirting the surface and nothing more.

I had no intentions as I rose to drink the brew that night. I felt whisps of joy – Orion had returned from his training, and would be joining us for the festivities. I loved, too, how all the women had elected to sit on one side of the circle. The swirls of sisterhood seemed to strengthen us, and for many, that was a much needed boost. There was trepidation as we stared down the next adventure. The previous evening hadn’t been gentle with the lot of us. And yet, we wanted more.

I wanted more. Barely, but that part of me that knew the sacred importance of these go-arounds still lived and breathed within. She is who nudged me to drink the medicine again, with a smile this time. I didn’t know what my intention should be, so I let them all fall away like acorns in a windstorm across my consciousness. The only wish I could grab hold of was simple – please don’t take me to hell.

The lights went off and we all went inward. I felt the energies of my Psychic sister next to me, and felt immediately comforted. Her tears came as my tears came. I didn’t know why I would cry so soon, but I didn’t know much of anything at that point, so I let them flow. The shaman’s music filled in the blank spaces and became my heart, my voice. Every now and again, I would remember once more that it was my birthday. The 34th. And yet, nothing felt special. I did not feel. . .much of anything.

The hours passed and not much transpired within. I had minimal visions, and could only really lock onto the many ways in which I was blocking the medicine. I had lost my fight. The ego relinquished control with a vengeance. She threw up walls in front of my third eye, making what little visuals I could perceive appear blurry and distant. My heart fell into a cavern with locks and deadbolts. At the highest level, I knew I had trapped myself. Yet the prevalent numbness insisted that I simply not care.
This, I obeyed.

I leapt up at one point and tried to move with the drums. It felt staged and egoic, as if I only danced to prove I could, and that I was beautiful when doing so. I felt inept and hideous in those moments, so I threw myself back onto my cushions and scolded my ego for wanting to show off.

Such an emptiness. Such an unnamable void.
I wondered if perhaps hell was better. This place I fell into then, it felt farther from bliss than the dark side ever did. But I knew there wasn’t enough medicine in me to break the chains. And when the offer came to have another drink, I promptly said no. On some levels, I was still immersed in Aya’s clutches, but there was little sincerity in my being. And no intention whatsoever to truly surrender. Knowing this, she gave me what my ego wanted – an endless stream of nothingness.

About two thirds into the ceremony, I started craving more. The shaman within started screaming – just load enough that the ears perked up inside.
Yes, we can go deeper. Yes, we can.
There were no more opportunities to drink, but Ayahuasca told me firmly that I didn’t need more brew in order to access her powers. I had so much in my veins anyway – I always have. She challenged me to drop the victim drama, the blank little girl-child stares, and tell my ego to fuck off already. I felt the throw down.
And I took the bait.

I would not end my twentieth ceremony with a quivering little whimper. There was so much more for me to be.

More soon . . .

“Strong Black Vine
you just might see that
sweet jesus
in a
Strong Black Vine
submission
is my mission for a
Strong Black Vine”
- Tori Amos
(And yes, she’s talking about Miss Aya)

Best Friend and I shuffled into my massive bedroom, and as I walked to the king-sized throne, I felt the emptiness of Orion’s absence. I instinctively grabbed my cell, and was happily shocked to find 8 text messages waiting. All from my beautiful partner.

Orion doesn’t fancy himself a very intuitive soul. He doesn’t sense that he’s all that connected to energies, or anything outside of the tangibles. I may disagree, but that’s irrelevant – his perception is reality.
This evening, however, something rather unexpected happened – he was present for the ceremony, without physically being in the room. Through his texts, he revealed that in the midst of a deep meditation, he could literally feel what I was going through with Ayahuasca. His pulse remained at an unusually high level for the exact duration of the ceremony, and that became the tangible evidence of this energetic connection – without which he would have failed to believe in the link. His timing was impeccable – the intro and exit texts matched the start and ending of the experience almost exactly; information he could not have known otherwise.
Orion had been there all along. I knew this, and yet knowing in the default space as well, I just felt overwhelming peaceful.

I called him immediately, and we had a brief but beautiful discussion. I shared what I could about the night, as did he, and basically I just gushed about how much I loved him, us, our connection. I don’t believe I would have been able to face such primal fears without his encouragement. Sometimes it takes a cheerleader that reminds you of your strength. He was / is that gift.

Best Friend and I laid in bed talking after the phone call, recounting the evening’s events and lamenting the next go-around. We were tired. The night was hard on us both, in ways we knew we would benefit from. But night two loomed above us like a storm cloud, so we said our loving night-nights and escaped into slumber, sourcing the power for day two. My twentieth ceremony was hours away.

My internal fight had risen to a crescendo. The not-so-little ego had identified her target, and as I previously mentioned, she just wasn’t going down in a peaceful fashion. The boxing gloves were merged into my consciousness, and I felt paralyzed by the back and forth battle – the anger and hissing judgment juxtaposed with the higher self acceptance. Only the higher self stayed mostly out of it, in the later moments – I was on my own to revel in this incredibly dark and negative barrage of venomous words.

I kept marveling at my ego’s tenacity, but getting lost in the frustration and perceived failure. Immersed and floundering, I begged for a release – a letting go, in any form. It came from a surprising vision / visitation. Ayahuasca took me back to my very early childhood. I was two again, a tiny being trapped in an oxygen tent, and because my lungs were full of fluids and my body temperature was so sky-high, they wouldn’t let another soul touch me for fear of a heated overload. I felt myself in that secluded state, ravaged by this illness, and staring out the clear tent walls to see my mother. She peered at me with desperation and pain. I wanted those arms I spied – a womb of safety. I screamed my protests, begging to feel her touch, to be comforted and scooped out of this isolation. But no comfort came. Nothing but sterility and solitude, coupled with the intrusive glances of strangers and family that could not do anything but look. And pray.

Why am I here? I wondered with a demanding surge. As if I didn’t have enough to battle internally, now I felt submerged in complete loneliness and abandonment. Then, however, the voice came – that wise, velvety, glorious higher self / Ayahuasca voice.
She told me the simple truth – that the fight I felt in the present moment – the ego’s heroic showdown of force and presence – was the very same vivaciousness that kept me alive during those childhood death-dances. I almost perished in that memory; I could feel how close to leaving my body I really was. And instead, I fought to stay. My ego’s glorious survival instincts kept me tethered to this reality, and I found myself feeling insanely grateful for her maddening strength.

It was precisely the revelation Ayahuasca had been waiting for – the acceptance of this ego’s power, not the resistance. I felt my internal battleground dissipate a bit – it morphed into something more akin to a debate, and less like a war. I could breathe a little deeper, and listen a whole lot closer. This was the shift in the wild ride that would allow the transmissions to land in my emotional and higher selves, as my mind had relaxed enough to trust the process once again.

The rest of the night would be wrapped in a veil of blankness. I was in the experience of feeling, but received little else in the way of lessons and awakenings. I did not mind. I had passed the terror stage again and found a little serenity – I only felt grateful for the chance to just be.

In the final hours, I allowed myself to play in the room a bit, and really get lost in the music. I marveled with sincere awe at the entirely unique journeys every beloved in the room confronted. I could feel with subtle certainty where everyone was in this cosmic unraveling, and there remained zero doubt that many felt monstrous struggles, while others were finding their bliss. I thanked Ayahuasca for the perfection of every story. And once again, connected with my sincere adoration for this crazy, beautiful path.

At times, I rose up and danced out my expressions, utilizing the open space outside of the circle to let my body take control. Thoughts completely disappeared, save the occasional egoic concern that people were watching. Even if they were, I (mostly) didn’t care – I enraptured myself in the movements, the unity with the awesome music the shaman created with his myriad of instruments. Those were my only pure moments of happiness during the actual ceremony, but to be true, they were more than enough.

I ended the night with thoughts of Orion, sending him my love and gratefulness for his tangible presence. I simply couldn’t wait for our reunion the next day. The talking circle formed when the ceremony ended, and I had little to say. I verbalized a bit of my experience, and acknowledged that my birthday had officially landed at midnight that eve. The rest of me attempted to listen to everyone else’s amazing journeys (although that is always made challenging by my hearing loss – oy.)

When I finally found the right moment to steal away to the bedroom, a present sat waiting on my cell. 8 text messages from Orion, revealing yet another miracle from the evening’s events. These would uplift me in unnamable ways – as would the treasured Best Friend bonding that awaited. More on that very soon

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.

I thought I had wafted past all of the fearful silliness in the hours before ceremony #19. I tried to be proactive in the days prior to the next deep-dive — meditations that just weren’t deep enough (or sincere enough), the incessant processing of the why’s and the how’s and the never again’s, the deeply real gratitude for every last thread of emotion – fear and all. I suppose it was an ok effort, but I did what I do so often – too often -
I skimmed the bloody surface. I did not serve myself in the highest fashion. And as such, there were more lessons to bring forth.

Everyone arrived Saturday for the weekend’s festivities – fresh-faced and heartfelt. Most were newcomers to the world of shamanism – a few of us were trusted repeats. We had a lovely time bonding and getting into the energies – complete with a fantastic round-robin discussion with Shaman and his Attendant. Beings of light that we all are, it was a gorgeous conversation.
And about 2/3 of the way in, I felt it – a wave of utter, primal, heart-gripping terror.

I felt a charge of energy wash up around my throat and head chakras, burning and flushing my cheeks and cells. I excused myself moments later, staggering into my bedroom and sitting on my bed to contemplate how to maneuver through this fear. Just moments before, I felt bliss. I felt ready and willing to let Ayahuasca take over – to surrender my illusion of control. Now. . .there was just no way. I mean, how could I go back to that darkness? How could I face down those demons when I had suddenly lost faith in myself?

I went back to the circle. The conversation winded down, and the clock ticked before us – about 30 minutes to lift-off. I thought about purging the medicine right after I took it – I could just rush off to my room and throw-up where no one would know. My ego adored this option – we could play the part but not have to hurt. Wouldn’t that be nice. To not have to hurt.
But I couldn’t. I knew too strongly how much I deserved this journey, and I felt too connected to mother Aya as a whole. I couldn’t dishonor this opportunity by hiding. I had to find the strength to go under.

I called Orion. He was in Denver for pilot training. He would be joining us the next day, and we lamented not being side by side for this cosmic undertaking. I knew, however, that he would be closer than I could ever fathom, no matter where he might physically reside. This would turn out to be so poetically true, it would be hard for us to accept.
But I digress. We’ll get there.

Orion gave me a little tough love pep talk. He reminded me to see the fear as a blessing, a big neon sign showing me how deep this process was taking me. Ego death was just on the horizon, he assured me, and the only way out of the fear – was to go through it.
All of the things I knew, but didn’t want to face. I felt resistant to his words at first, but fell into them eventually, unable to disagree with what I knew to be true. I loved him so much, for giving me this boost. I hung up and got to work.

We found our places in the ceremonial circle, and before the sun had even set, one by one, we walked up and swallowed our medicine. I straightened my spine and focused on my breathing. Focused on letting Ayahuasca run the show. On finally. . .letting go.

I waited for the unfolding to take me away as tears of primal fear flew down my cheeks. I wanted to be anywhere but there. Anywhere. But falling into my inexplicable terrors.

“Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.”
- Dylan Thomas