Wearing ceremonial clothing, right before ceremony #12

We had spent more down time frolicking through the jungle, taking walks with our Shaman and spending down time in the dining hall. Z and I woke late, napped frequently, ate well, and readied ourselves. The sounds of the Amazon wooed us continually, from the manic laughter of the Kona Kona to the glorious symphony of a rain storm. Everything was in harmony.

We entered the ceremonial site at the normal time – 9 PM. The air sifted down with a pulsing heaviness, telling us the night would be monstrous and varied. It was to be the last ceremony with our amazing Shaman Don Rober; a guest Shaman would grace our presence for the final hoorah. This was not music to my ears, for I knew this guest Shaman – he was at the helm for my nightmarish ceremony #7 during my last visit. I felt so strong, however; I trusted the process. I knew I would manage. And I knew enough to just soak up this last go around with the most protective, powerful healer I had ever known.

We all drank our medicine, and the lights went out. The tiniest stream of moonlit crept in, and I saw it as a luminous sign. Something about the energies told told me massive revelations were on the horizon. Maybe even a death or two.

My visions kicked in with a vengeance in record time, and immediately, one vivid scene came into view. I saw myself, my other travelers, and a whole host of my dearest friends. We were all hovering in the skies in the lotus position; eyes closed, deep in meditation. Below us lay a gigantic, blood-filled body of water — lifeless and still. Occasionally, one of us would awaken, reach into the water, and pull out a lifeless body. We would blow a puff of breath on their faces, and suddenly, the frame would spring to life, assume the lotus stance, and join us in reverence.

A symbol for the work I was doing, I thought to myself. A metaphor for the whole wide world. Absolute poetry.

Suddenly, the tone shifted. A festive atmosphere ensued, with dancing entities and a forest of joyful animals. Before my eyes came two darling looking fairies, carrying a large goblet of red wine. I delighted, reaching out to indulge. I’m a drinker, after all – before this trip, I was drinking almost every single night, and never just one cup. Wine was the favorite. How nice of the spirits to gift me.

As I squealed and reached for my treat, one of the fairies turned ugly and evil, swooping up into my face and wagging a nasty, dicrepid finger. I immediately connected – the Spirit had requested what she had hinted at the night before; no more drinking. Could I do it?

- Not even a glass of wine with dinner? I pondered.

She answered loudly.

- Just do me this favor – no alcohol, not a single drop, for three months. Then, follow your heart from there.

I resisted a resounding yes, only because I wanted to be utterly sincere. I imagined my birthday party, sans cocktails. Nights at home with Z without a champagne toast. Parties with friends – completely sober.

- Name one good thing about alcohol, child. Just one.

- It tastes good.

I smiled mischievously and shook my head.

- No, I know that doesn’t count. OK, well, red wine has health benefits.

- Dark chocolate has more.

Touche.
I went through the gamut – it’s toxic, expensive, addictive, full of calories, and I despise the way I feel and act when truly intoxicated. Hmmm. This was getting clearer and clearer.

- You’re right. I can’t name one. All right, I’ll do it.

She must have believed me right off, because once again, I experienced a dramatic shift in tone and theme. But I had made an agreement, and I wouldn’t forget.

Sacha came to me then – my omnipotent spirit animal, the beautiful jaguar. She offered a ride on her back; something I simply cannot resist. We went running through the jungle, with acres of leaves briskly brushing my frame. I felt every muscle tense and release in her body, as mine wrapped around her back and neck. We were flying, free, and fearless.

That is, until she made a quick right turn. Suddenly, we were in a graveyard. I smelled a rat.

- Um, this sucks. Let’s go back.

She stood her ground.

That’s when the primal buzzing started. It’s a common sound for Ayahuasca takers; rather like the real sound of the energies that are constantly pulsing around us. This time, it was almost deafening — luring me forward, not letting me be ruled by my mind.

In the distance, I saw a gravestone turned over on it’s face, and on the back appeared a manhole cover. I knew this was a trick.

- I’m not going over there.

But as I said the words, in my mind, to Sacha, I felt my body breaking into a full sprint, headed to the overturned grave.

As I approached, the manhole cover magically opened for me, and although my mind continued to protest, I didn’t hesitate. I jumped into the dark opening and felt myself plummeting down an endless tunnel. Panic engulfed me. My cheeks dripped with tears and sweat. I leaned forward and purged; hard and fast, silent yet incredibly painful. Why was I suddenly being punished?

-It’s a gift, sweet girl. Surrender.

I knew I wouldn’t stop falling until I just let go, accepting whatever awaited. My biggest fear in life is being buried alive. I’ve carried this with me since childhood. Nightmares have been common, living wills a reality – and now I had to experience it. I squared my shoulders and fell into the fall.

I saw myself landing on my back in a frightening grave. The coffin was old and rotted, and I noted how the top had numerous cracks and splinters. The many pounds of dirt on top of the coffin were winning the race. I knew it was going to burst at any moment. This was my greatest fear.

- Just die, honey – it’s that easy.

I was shaking in my chair now, rocking like mad and trying to find a little peace. What a fucking nightmare. How could I go through this without losing my mind?

I had no choice, really – I saw myself back in the coffin, palms placed toward the sky, with a sly little smile. An accepting stare.

The lid caved in and I was covered in dirt. I took in a deep breath, but there was no air to suck inside; just earth. But it wasn’t painful or scary anymore – it felt liberating and exciting. Within a few moments, I drifted out of my body, swept up through the dirt, and flew back to Sacha, who waited faithfully on the outskirts.

- Geez, that was easy!

I grinned and dusted myself off. Sacha motioned for me to join her again, and I happily accepted.

She took me back to the bloody waters this time. We went down a waterfall to get there – one smattered with body parts, limbs, and human tissue. Everywhere, I smelled death. The primal buzzing pulsated and intensified. But there I was again, with my favorite people and a whole slew of beautiful strangers, meditating, floating – surviving. Ascending. I cried from the beauty of it all.

I knew the end of the ceremony was approaching, and I felt the need to bookend my night with a connection with nature. A Kona Kona perched above our maloka all night – he’s a squirrel like critter with a call that sounds like a very amused “ha ha ha”. Every time he erupts, I sourced a smile. But he had been quite for hours, and I missed him.

- Let me join him.

I asked the Spirit, and then suddenly, I found myself on a bamboo branch, gazing at the unique looking rodent. In an instant, he let out a bellowing laugh – and I knew this resounded in real life too. I jumped in my seat and let out a gasp – I hadn’t expected things to go down so lightning-fast. The Kona let me pet and nuzzle him, but then he sent me back to my chair. Don Rober had approached me in the darkness, ready to seal me up with a blessing. The tears flew down my face as he did so, and I connected with my new self. Or rather, my real self. The person I was meant to be.

My two shaman - Howard and Don Rober Acho, sitting in front of the Ayahuasca mesa

It got me thinking – what’s so great about individuality? It gets so goddamn lonely when you insist on being independent and headstrong. I fell into loving the notion of interdependence – standing strong as a sole soul, but reliant on the kindness of others. We can have it all.

And so I entered my tenth ceremony with absolute openness and reverence. My intention was to heal my past traumas, in a physical and emotional sense. Specifically, I asked that my heart and my reproductive organs be addressed – both have been devastated. I didn’t want to carry those burdens anymore. They just weren’t serving me.

I hadn’t forgotten that Ayahuasca hinted at a death for me, despite the fact that death didn’t exist. I loved the conundrum this generated within – the both/and philosophy. There is no black and white when you accept spiritual knowledge. Things just Are, and it’s beautiful.

We went through our usual, magnificent rituals, and I took my turn with delight. The Ayahuasca tasted for more rank and foul again; just like my memories. I sucked it down with a sour face, and grinned as I stumbled back to my rocking chair.

The worse it tastes, the more intense the experience. And that’s just the way we like it.

She didn’t take long at all to swoop back into my system. Ayahuasca always picks up where she left off – there’s never a disconnect. That’s why it feels so much like a homecoming, always. Every last session.

Immediately, as I fell into the altered state, dozens of children appeared with glowing palms. Half of the crew set to work on my heart, while the others lingered between my legs. They were absolutely illuminated, smiling from ear to ear, and consistently making eye contact with me. I kept taking deep breaths, but I didn’t resist in the least. Their hands lingered above my body parts, swirling in circles, and healing the hurt. I felt floaty and sacred, and with every hand sweep, I knew I was getting closer to Cleansed. I kept thanking them, and they would giggled and nod. Their eyes – they knew so much more than I did. I couldn’t help but marvel.

When the healings ended, I entered a cosmic looking playground. The children didn’t leave me – some stayed by my side and others appeared. Trees sprung up from every line of sight, and from them emerged dozens of slithering snakes. They were multi-colored and vibrant, and some raised up to meet my eyes. Hisses erupted, but I felt fearless. They were channeling their knowledge; I could feel it. Snakes represent the lower world, and are often a symbol of death and wisdom. Dying is a blessing. That’s what I heard.

I prepared myself for the spiral, but Ayahuasca had other plans.

The children all backed-up and formed a circle around me, still smiling and staring. Mother Ayahusca appeared, a body of gorgeous glowing eyes, with a pair of outstreched hands that cradled my cheeks.

- Are you open, child?

- I am. I am. To anything.

- Hmmm.

I felt her hesitation …

- Are you open to never having another drink of alcohol again?

I pondered this, truly, and gave a reply.

- Absolutely. I could do that if I had to.

- Are you open to having children?

My heart surged. This has never, ever been on my agenda. I vehemently express, and always have, that kids are not my bag. Why would she ask of me anything different? She responded in kind.

- I’m not saying you should have them, dear – I only ask that you be open. To anything, as you stated. If your heart isn’t open to any available path, you’ll never know what your true destiny is. We spend too much time chasing someone else’s pot of gold. I just want you to know yours.

- Then I’m open – most definitely.

- No, you’re not. Your mind is – and it’s a tricky devil. You want to be. Go into your heart and open that door.

I tried. I swooped down and felt resistance.
Ugh, I just wasn’t sure I could do this.

- Think about why you have always resisted having children.

All right, let’s go there.
I know I have always resisted my femininity – my unique blend of passive power. I am curvier than many, and that used to invoke shame. Used to, of course. But how is that tied to having kids?
Oh, there it is – yes. I was abused as a child. Not on a grand scale, for months on end, but there was serious trauma. From people other than my parents, but it didn’t matter – even though I thought it should.

- I can’t have children because they are so susceptible to unspeakable pain. I can’t let that happen to another spirit.

- You’re not in control of such things. That’s an illusion. Besides that, do you regret what happened to you?

- Not for a second. I love everything about my story. It made me. I love me.

- Precisely. So that’s not the reason. Try harder.

I dug deeper. I finally allowed myself to see me as a mother. I was luminious, adoring, protective, sincere. There was nothing wrong with this picture. So what was stopping me from letting the possibility in?

My ego, yes. I was a girl who would never be a mom. I had said it a million times – enough so I believed it. Everyone knows this. How could I go back?
I was stone cold petrified.

I leaned into my bucket and purged like mad. Shame, guilt, fear, resistance – all merged together in a liquidy release.

And I felt – fucking fantastic.

- OK, wow, I’m open. To not drinking, to having kids – whatever it is I’m here to do.

She didn’t respond. Instead, I was pushed so bloody deep into the experience I had to hold on tight to the chair, just to remember what this was. Billions of images flashed before me, at light speed – the kind of lessons and messages that only my heart could hear, and thus defies my explanation.

But I listened, and learned, and as the intensity wore off, I drifted back into my body with a newfound fearlessness. I was a dam that had suddenly been slammed open, permanently. Whatever fate awaited me, I felt zero resistance or fear. Be it motherhood or an immediate death/transition, I had open arms.

I must tell you, there is no greater sense of strength.

As the ceremony ended, I could have danced back to the room. Z and I entertwined and crawled on back, but I tabled my bliss. I could feel his darkness. His night had not been so light and magical. And so I asked the Universe to keep me strong, to tap into my healing nature, and I engulfed him in all the love I could muster. We talked for eons, and fell into a healing slumber.

Paradise. And I didn’t even have to die … yet.

The dock, surreal-style, at the lodge in the Amazon. Photo by Steve Johnson.

So much of what I/we do – borderline everything – equates to an escape. Television and movies, books and magazines, even conversations. Alcohol, drugs, food – consumption baby; non-stop some days. I used to call my suicidal ideation Consumption, because she sucked up so much of my obsessive thoughts. But that is the ultimate escape, figuratively and literally – allowing myself, during those pitch-black days, to imagine a permanent way out. It never served to provide any answers, but it did serve me. And I’m still here. At least there’s that.

All of these things make us less of ourselves. Some of us are in constant hiding. I find meditation excrutiatingly difficult, because it requires a bona fide deep dive. My brain doesn’t shut the fuck up, and she’s not me; just the ego. The hidden veil. She’s fun to hit the town with, that outside mask, and she’s a great conversationalist, but she’s a constant distraction. Chatter chatter chatter.

Ayahuasca, in about 30 minutes flat, shoves you deep into the recesses of your being, back to the cosmic memory. She didn’t shutdown my brain noise by any means – those voices still had a hey day. They tried to control the experience, to talk me through it, but the ego lost her power in an instant. By the third ceremony, I made my way to the Authentic Voice in an instant, and I don’t even remember listening to anything else. See, there’s no hiding, regardless of how many voices are part of the symphony. There was one woman I remember, she managed to control all 3 experiences, and told us all she didn’t get much out of it. About 4 months later, she wrote me to say she woke up in a cold sweat one night, all these voices coming through her ears, and she realized how much she needed to change. Ayahuasca is far more patient than we are, but make no mistake – she’ll get through.

This is why the sacred vine is anything but a drug. The Shaman calls the brew medicina – and it is the ultimate medicine. It tastes like ass, it cleans you from the inside out, and it heals whatever you brought to the surface with your intentions. And then some. But not without a balance, and it’s the other side – that incredible unknown vortex of visions, past lives, and hardcore lessons – that keeps me quaking.

Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to escape. A little food, a little film-watching. Definite Boo time. And all kinds of delicious fear.