Just in time for the new year, there are numerous endings, beginnings, and transformations.  Mostly, I am staring down the truth of my divine creations – and acknowledging that the being beyond my false sense of self has everything under control.  Go, that-girl.  Go go go.

Backstory time – what’s a blog without the details?

Pi is a controversial but sacred soul.  He’s reached enlightenment (I rather dislike the “reached” descriptor, because it was gifted rather than attained, but whatever – he’s There.)  He’s new to those spaces, however, and because he doesn’t fit the mold from which most of us craft our completely false sense of true self-realization, he’s a button pusher like no other.  I met him early this year at one of Orion’s events.  He immediately had a very positive effect on me (how many peeps can say THAT, Pi?)  But our second conversation – that’s when the party really started.

It was February 13th, day of the divine romance (so dubbed by Guruji P), and Z plus the ashram crew had arrived for a big enlightenment event.  Lots of folks came, including the beautiful fiancee of the man I was about to fall madly in love with.  I, however, was still fully with Z, and realllly committed to making the evening a huge success for him.  This was his night, his chance to share his toe-touch in the other world, and he was mad nervous as public speaking made him waddle and sweat.  The evening went quite well, however, and everyone stayed to socialize after the big speeches commenced.

Pi had some rather animated discussions with various members – a trend I would realize in the coming weeks.  He’s just aces at exposing and dismantling belief structures, so he’s rather like a human bug zapper – people gravitate around him, protest and argue, then either surrender to his rightness, or storm off in a huff.  Usually the latter.  Anyway, several folks had  had their fill of Pi – including Healer, who was completely flummoxed by Pi’s insistence that A) he was in fact enlightened and B) he had no big-huge-godlike-divine-world-changing-purpose.  Since this did not fit with Healer’s current “enlightenment picture”, the conversation had been heated.  But suddenly, there we were – Pi and myself – eyelocked on the couch, and immediately engaged in the most unexpected conversation.  The room had also mysteriously cleared out as we began to speak – everyone scampered off to the kitchen, except us.  He said words to me that were clearly, clearly channeled from outside his mind, and they were so spot on targeted to my innermost self, I was pretty much flattened by the intimacy.   The topic: Tantra.  Something I held a deep affinity for, but next to no knowledge – and Pi said some pretty out-there, but perfect for me, goodies.  Once our chat ended, Pi took his exit, and I was left feeling completely and totally altered.  An attempt to traverse the room ended in a near flop-over.  I was giddy.

And later that night, through a completely unplanned and totally cosmic conversation with Z, our relationship ended.  I had no memory then (or now) of how that happened, or what was said.  But he heard something in my words that I didn’t consciously put there – it was rather like the channeling Pi had done for me.  Z said to me, about 4 AM, during our really heated exchange – “Do I hear you breaking up with me?” And tearfully, yet  stoically, I said – “Yes.”

That was the boulder, sent rolling down the hill.  And today, another boulder was pushed off to follow. 

In the months since, Pi and I forged a deep but short-lived bond, then mutually accepted significant distance so that other connections might neatly form.  Both of us, actually, created a beautiful connection with Orion.  Orion became the love of my life, and one of Pi’s closest friends.  I bowed out of the intimacy out of respect for both men and honoring what felt right, but I’ll admit – ever since then, in growing doses, I have missed that Pi-connection.  We see each other alllll the time, so it’s not a withdrawal in that sense, but I knew what a profound teacher / friend he was / is for me, and my egoic self felt really jealous at the relationship I saw with Orion and Pi.  I had a sense of loss there without really understanding why.  Finally, in the last week, I acknowledged this to Orion, and this morning, did the same to Pi.  Why?  Because it’s time to change the game.

It all began on a couch with a chat about Tantra.  And early next year, Pi is starting a Tantra meet-up group — a group I’m more excited to attend than any other.  Patience has paid off.  I just trust that this is a wonderful next step for all involved.  The rightness of the timing, integrity, and true intentions of all involved is just mind-numbingly beautiful.  It has already meant that I should be so lucky as to grow even closer to both Orion and Pi.  I’m seriously spilling over with gratitude.

And as this all transpires, an ending has landed at my feet as well.  One I’m both shocked by, and completely un-surprised over.  Yes, both.  Shaman and part of the affectionate Dynamic Duo – the team I’ve been working with on Aya this last year – well, that’s a donesville chapter.  There’s no dramatic story around the why’s – it’s just time.  My heart said so.  I’m closing a door so I may clear space for my next mentor – one I can go even deeper into this process with.  Here and now, I am called to own these shamanic energies I have been gifted access to – not unlike the way Pi owns his Tantra wisdom.  I was not feeling that unfolding with D1.  But this isn’t the easiest of door-closes.  I literally just gave up my easy access to Ayahuasca. My shaman who made house calls.  I will finish up a promise to connect a current wave of seekers to him, but I won’t be attending – which, I’ll admit, hasn’t fully hit me yet.  Or rather, hit the emotional side yet.  But make no mistake, this is hardly the end of my Aya chapter.  I have a conference / workshop in March that just found me (literally five minutes before the falling out with past-shaman), and if that doesn’t lead me to the next connection, something else will.  Ayahuasca is already working on this with me, I can feel that.  So instead of lamenting a loss, I’m excited for a beginning that hasn’t (tangibly) begun.  How’s that for abstract?

There’s so much more happening, but these are the current heart-stamps.  Orion and I will be ringing in the new year together tomorrow, and we’re 1 week away from the “I met you exactly one year ago” marker.  Amazing.  That same day, we’ll be motoring down the highway to our 12 day silent meditation retreat.  Oh, the places we go.  And the love that we know.

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.

Two days from now, I will be falling back into the cosmic, healing embrace of Mother Ayahuasca. I am no stranger to shamanic journeys, to soirees with the helper plants, and yet, I’m back into the space of knowing next to nothing. There’s a clean slate glowing behind my mind’s eye, and it’s waiting for just a few dribbles of clarity. A sense of knowing sourced straight from my heart, not filling up the head that thinks she’s full, but is perpetually empty.

I can now say, unequivocally, that I’ve devoted my life to the ultimate ego-shed. 2 1/2 years ago, when Z and I met, I first learned what enlightenment met – the beginning of the unfolding. He was on the quest, clearly, and I found it so fascinating. I placed a pedestal beneath those who sought the same, and especially those who had already reached the pinnacle. And I thrust myself so far below, I didn’t even hold the possibility for myself.

It was the combination of Ayahuasca and Huachuma / San Pedro that gave me my most treasured awakening. I remember sitting on top of El Brujo – the life-giving, feminine powered pyramid – gazing out across the magnificent landscape. Inside my head, the dialogue between higher-self and ego ensued. The spirits had cornered me – asking why it is that I thought enlightenment was not possible for me. The questions unfolded with gentle intensity, and my arguments kept breaking down.
Then it came to me. Like a flash of blue light from a far away lighthouse. My ego had led me to believe it couldn’t happen to me, because, of course, it would mean the death of her. But as I came to realize that I am not my perceived identity – that I am, in fact, all aspects of God – there was no other logical conclusion. I, too, can self-realize.

In that same ceremony, I found myself tracing the footsteps of prisoners from 3,000 years before. They had walked within El Brujo’s life-taking pyramid, where I now traipsed – the last moments of their lives. I tried to reconcile how we humans take our own lives, again and again. It’s always suicide, no matter who kills who. And why? Why this deadly dance? Why haven’t we learned a bloody thing in all these thousands of years?

Because so many of us believe in the illusion. This became so clear to me. We believe in the identities built within our egos. That we are our nations, our families, the definitions we hold about who we are and what we do and why we do it. And what we BELIEVE in – our favorite attachments.
That’s all poppycock. We are none of those things. We are ALL of those things, yes, but they aren’t what defines us. What defines, really – if you had to boil us all down into one collective ingredient – it would be love. The great white light. The only real thing that lives inside us. And the very thing our egos work so immensely hard to keep us from.
Why? Because the ego can’t control love. When we own this divinity, all that perceived control just washes away.

Now that’s a dream I will never stop spinning inside this radiant reality.

This weekend, I’m blessed to be back inside the circle that feels most familiar to me – Ayahuasca. Shamanism. In my current home, with my friends and loved ones. Purging out the painful parts of ourselves, so that our love and light can surface, and become all that we know.

Last time, I let my ego run the show. I let her battle for supremacy, trying so hard to dictate what would and would not happen in these ceremonies. Where we would and would not go. What we would and would not feel. In the end, I faced the most painful, miserable, soul-ripping night of my life. Dark night of the soul indeed. All because I wanted it my way. And what a shitty way THAT is.

This time – THIS time. . .
I am raw and humbled, slack-jawed and limp. I am my heart. I will walk up to the alter on Saturday night to take my next dose, and I will do so without walls and agendas. With trust and faith that Ayahuasca and the higher realms will lead me right where I need to be. None of this bargaining crap I tried before. I will just be. And wherever I am taken, I will go with willingness and reverence. I will love my way through every presented experience. And if I’m able to drop any or all pieces of my ego, all the better. Whoever she thinks I am, I know I am not.

No more illusion. I’m ready to see – and be – nothing but light.

“Enlightenment is not imagining
figures of light but making
the darkness conscious.”
Carl Gustav Jung

The medicine has taken me to a place I’ve never been by now – it’s my 17th dance with her, and yet I’m feeling the folds of the unfamiliar start to overwhelm my senses. The good news – my ego is almost-silent, so flabbergasted by the intensity that the internal “This is happening and that means that and blah blah blah” nonsense has faded to a hoarse little whimper. The bad news – I do not like it here.

My body is reflecting this resistance. She is in part a trembling, manically twitching vessel, trying desperately to control the coursing energies, to prevent the fearful slide into the dark beyond. I can hear the wretched hums and buzzes of the underworld, a place I know too well, and my body joins the ego in saying – no thanks. We’re not loving the deep dive.
At the same time, I am moving in slow motion. I am aware of how cold and thirsty I am, and very soon, I become cognizant of the inevitable purge. The liquids are moving through me, bringing my emotions to the surface – asking me to feel the pain of self-destruction. I reach for my bucket like a snail stretching out to cross the finish line – fearful of making a sound, of drawing attention to my not-ok-ness, of disrupting the meditative flow of those around me. Slowly, slowly the bucket reaches my face, and I release – a tiny purge, hardly satisfactory, and just a tiny bit symbolic. The bigger message is not what I let go in the release, but what I held on to.

I’m not listening.

I’m playing the Ayahuasca game my way. Despite my universal knowledge of this futile effort, I refuse to surrender. My double dose has me so far gone, however, I can almost feign ignorance. She is being gentle with me, allowing me to skirt the truths and keep sailing around the room – in service, and in escape. I keep focusing on other people’s pain, other people’s bliss, instead of owning my own. I know there will be repurcussions. I know, and yet persist.

It seems inconceivable, but the ceremony has suddenly ended – the Shaman has lit a candle, and the crew moves in a circle around him. I am the last to join, wondering how on earth I’m supposed to function in such an altered state. The Shaman speaks to us, but all I hear is a beautiful music – I cannot piece together his words, cannot even pull out one for context. My head rests in my lap, and I am still moving, shaking, rocking – my body’s attempt to distract me from the insanely potent insides.
It’s working. I feel very little, only awe at the depth. My ego keeps me at the surface, praising me for surviving another ceremony, another waltz into the unknown. Only I didn’t go willingly this time, and part of me knows this. The part of me in lockdown.

An hour goes by, and the circle is animated now – talking and telling tales. Things I am aware of but cannot hear. I finally remember that Orion is with me, that maybe I could reach out to him and connect. That maybe he’d like to know where and how I am.
I look across to meet his gaze, and his is twinkling. We lock eyes and I watch his mouth curve up into a playful, loving smile.
This is what I need. I melt inside myself and scuttle across the floor to fall into his lap, burying my face into his beautifully rhythmic stomach. He whispers a thousand I Love Yous into my ear, and I am consumed with the connection. So blessed, so grateful. So much in love with him.

At some point, my bladder wins the protest battle, and I test my legs as I wobble to the bathroom. I gain confidence from the success of this venture, and instead of rejoining the circle, I head straight upstairs to my bedroom. The cats have been calling me – I feel them. I can’t stay away anymore.

As soon as I enter my room and collapse into bed, all three felines scamper up to bathe in my energies. Boo, the soul cat, is particularly bonded – he lays with me for hours in a contented cuddle-purr. They are fur-filled, loving distractions – bringing me to a peaceful, contented space.

And Orion – he is such a King – rushing up to check on me every 15 or so minutes, then rejoining the group to report back. I cannot speak when he arrives, save a few I Love Yous and coo-ing giggles, but I am so grateful for his love and affection.

The night is spent inside this dance, and finally, Orion and I sleep. I’m not in the least bit sure of my lessons at this point – and I have to admit, I’m a little more than fearful of the next ceremony – just a handful of hours away. I feel the ominous foreshadowing, yet, as has been my theme for the recent endeavor, I am pretending not to know.

The truth is coming.

“Can’t stop what’s coming
Can’t stop what is on the way.”
- Tori Amos

This is so long overdue it full-on frightens me. I’m in healer crossover, having lagged on logging the latest Ayahuasca lessons, and here I am mid-week with energy Healer’s latest visit.
Both are throwing me hoops, and suddenly, I have two left feet.

First, the now.
It’s messy. I can’t look at the internal tapestry and claim anything but scattered energies. It’s not quite the manic mess of Jackson Polluck; more akin to an angular, way too cerebral Kandinsky. Abstract, yet full of quiet rage, with portals a plenty to fall into.
Regarding Orion and Hijo, it’s as if things change every day. They are my bright lights, however, as O and I have managed to maneuver deeper into our bond and mutual dedication with every universal curve ball. There have been. . . .so many. Severe drama with his ex-wife, Hijo’s mom, and an ever-changing grip on what might be our near term destiny. All we know is, it will involve us moving in together. *That* makes me luminous. In every respect, it feels right. I know part of the current turmoil is a simple reflection of the way my life feels a bit unsettled. Finding the new Home with the true Love would certainly assist, but I’m not waiting another month to get my strength and clarity back.

Which is why I’m here. To sort through the symphony of egoic protests, and find the quiet whispers of truth beneath the piercing echoes.

I haven’t been feeling much and it’s catching up to me – I’m like the bridge dweller who suddenly hears the train and takes off for a cat and mouse game. Only I’d really like to get run over already – get me into the space where I’m not avoiding anymore. The resistance to feeling is showing up in little ways throughout my life – a brand new car that spent the first night in the shop, no access to my mailbox because of a lost key, little work mistakes and overall brain misfires. Plus, I’ve not been genuinely happy. Which is simply not the norm. So it’s time to get to work.

Which brings me to mother Aya. Part 2 of journey 17.
I brought you to the point of what I called my Brink – deeply into the meditative state with the first drink fully merged in my cellular being. The attendant, beautiful D2, came to me with an inquiry – would I like more of the medicine?
I had no business – none – taking more. I could barely even process the offer, barely even walk up to the altar. But I made it there, lifted and blessed by my plant spirits, and besides that, my head reminded me of D1′s promise – seconds are always just a little “bump”. An extra boost to carry me along.
He poured this small sip into the glass, but then pulled back suddenly and read my energies. Then he smiled a wide, mischievious grin, and poured an even larger amount than I took the first time around. A full dose, in the truest sense. My hands shook as I gulped it down, then I floated back to my spot and hunkered down.

It wasn’t quite fear that came to me then, but a close friend of hers for sure. Nervous twitches, an immense inability to sit still – my body absolutely shook with energy and emotion. I couldn’t stop the trembling, but I wasn’t attached to it either. I let my beautiful body shake, resisting the urge to wail like a banshee, and just flowed with the process.
Visions surfaced, but I placed them down in the corner of my mind’s eye and instead focused on what I felt. The ego voice screamed up a storm – yet I barely remember her words. She knew she was almost silenced. And when I realized how close I was to separating from her – the childish, anxiety-ridden little mind-space, I went full throttle.
My body followed suit. I started experiencing a few of the physical “ego-loss” symptoms. Sweating and shaking. Chest pains. The feeling that my head was being pummeled by an axe.
It. Was. Awesome.

Right about then, I really owned how uncomfortable I my body felt. I had been freezing all night, which is partly to blame for my violent shaking episodes. My lips were horribly chapped, and I felt a terrible cold coming on strong in my throat and sinuses. I knew I had a fever. I also knew the desert had come to dwell in my throat chakra as well – I was fiercely dehydrated.
All the while, I knew three things – there was a blanket RIGHT beside me, lip balm in my pocket, and a big ole water bottle to my right.
I touched none of these things. I did nothing to comfort myself. I was too afraid my movements would disturb my fellow journeyers. Nevermind that the room was a cacophony of purging. I truly felt the metallic sound of my lip balm might throw off someone’s groove. And I couldn’t do *that*. I couldn’t serve myself.
Oh, how that shows up all over my world – or at least, it used to. I love the micro-metaphors.

And so I dwelt in my minimalistic state. Just being – however harsh the current existence felt. I focused, instead, on leaving my ego. And as I did. . .
I lost myself. Or at least, the limiting view I once had of who I was. The identity fell away.
Suddenly, I was nameless. I didn’t have a story. I looked around the room with curiosity, only knowing that I didn’t know who I was, I didn’t know where I was, and I didn’t know what the heck I was doing. I still felt all the physical drama my body kept pouring out, but that didn’t matter much either. Nothing did. I just moved with the music the Shaman played, and refused to feel anything but neutrality. There was even a little bit of bliss, connecting with my not-knowingness, and loving the fact that – I didn’t care. It was ok to lose myself.
I had asked for this.

About 15 minutes in, however, I started to feel the panic. The shaman had let us dwell in silence for a few minutes by then, and that’s part of what disoriented me – no music to get lost in. No songs to sing me through the beautiful nothingness.
And just as I felt myself rise up in true fear, there was D1, the omniscient shaman – he knelt before me like a yogi, and grabbed my forehead, placing it against mine.
We breathed in together, a few intensely deep, shaky breaths, and I heard him send me the message I needed to hear.

- You are Kitty. You’re at home. In Vegas. With people you love. You’re a shaman, a healer, a mother, a queen. You are all of these things, and none of these things. You are safe.

All of which I knew to be, unequivocally, true.

I felt so freed and connected then, I fell back against the wall with a radiant glow. My right hand independently reached out for a gift, and I immediately found the blanket I had placed there before the journey began. I wrapped the fuzzy fabric around my shaking frame and felt cocooned. I felt the love I had for myself, at last.

I also felt the need to purge. Oh yes, the next phase had begun.

More soon. . . I leave you with a quote that’s been in my mind all morning. . .

“And thanks for
the trouble you took
from her eyes. . .
I thought it was there
for good
so I never tried.”
- My beloved Leonard Cohen
Oh how I hope to see him in Denver. . . .

Ayahuasca Visions

Friday, the new shaman arrived. D1 and his beautiful partner D2 – these radiant, tiny-framed beings just bursting with love, light, and an incredibly divine power. They almost didn’t make it – stopped at the airport with the medicine by officials who didn’t know what the brew was, but didn’t want it going anywhere near the skies. They regrouped, repacked, moved the flight, and made it happen. With only minutes to spare. Ayahuasca always makes us work for it, but when so much is at stake, it’s more than worth the hoop-hopping. The pot of gold always makes her way to my outstretched hands.

I found myself mired in anxieties in the before. Worried about the comfort of all my guests, worried about the noises the neighbors might hear (purging, drums pounding, 2 AM energetic eruptions), worried about the lessons I didn’t want to learn. But that was just my ego. She knows Ayahuasca is there to move her aside, and the more awareness she has of this, the stronger she fights. I was about to learn just how strong that sense of identity can really be.

What an unspeakable gift to share this with a group of true-blue friends. 10 of us in all buckled up for the unknown cliff jump. We smoked a little sacred mapacho tobacco to get in the proper space, and grinned our naive yet knowing smiles to each other, sending love and strength and support for whatever must be. Then we headed over to my house to get the party started.

D1 gave us the rundown – he runs the show in a vastly different way than the shaman I studied with for the past 3 years. His gift of healing comes through his musical nature – he and D2 sing, play multiple instruments, and use already recorded tracks to transform the energies of the space. I so looked forward to the drumming, the harmonica, the strings and pipes and electronic melee. I knew this would be incredibly familiar and yet all kinds of new. I was shocked to hear that we would have multiple opportunities to drink as well – three in all, if we so chose. Even more chances to go deep and face the divine.

We each took our turn to drink. This Ayahuasca was just as vile as ever, but highly concentrated, and thus I had to drink far less. A huge gift, as the process of getting the liquids down is often the toughest part for me. This time, the medicine sailed into my system, and I felt electric. Alive. Protected And ready to fly.

It took about 30 minutes for me to start confronting the strength of the brew. It was as if my previous 16 ceremonies were just a build-up to what I fell into in those moments – an enormously potent, mind-shattering experience. I heard the primal buzzing kick in – the low, tribal groaning that I hear so often in this space – and felt the very energy of creation start to fill up my being. I lost myself. Completely. Time and space and identity dissolved into a nothingness – a beautiful void where I could just be, without stories or expectations. Even the chatter in my brain shut off – there was no need to describe the experience, to name it or give it any tangible description. Instead, I fell as deep as I could go. I let myself – or the image thereof – dissolve into the ethers. And in those moments, I would have been content to never, ever return.

The music kicked in shortly thereafter, and I thought I might explode from the power and awe. The drums rattled our insides, bringing up the purge for many. When the shaman started in with the drums, that’s when I once again became aware of my body. It started shaking like a full-speed locomotive – so much energy soaring through me this one little vessel just simply could not process it fast enough. I shook for hours and hours and hours. Violent shaking at times – forcing me into quiet fits of giggles, because it was so over the top and so intense and so completely unfathomable.
I didn’t now then that the shaking was a foreshadowed glimpse into my resistance. But I would know soon enough.

For much of the ceremony, I sat suffering – ice cold, and yearning for a blanket, but too spent to try and find one in the dark abyss. I also became keenly aware of my intense dehydration, but did nothing to soothe myself. There was water sitting RIGHT next to me, but I worried about disturbing my friends’ trances, and didn’t want to disrupt the space by knocking something over in my dazed-out stupor. And so I let myself suffer. Just like in the default world. More akin to take on abuse from myself, rather than inconvenience someone else.
As with all my ceremonies, this was fast becoming a microcosm for who I am in the default world. I couldn’t see it just yet, but the latest issues my soul asked to heal were surfacing at light speed.

D2 came to me then, about halfway through the ceremony, and asked if I would like more Ayahuasca. I was still so incredibly altered, but felt a very strong, compelling urge to say yes. I stood up and slowly made my way to the alter, expecting a small dosage to just keep me where I was. D1 poured a small amount, and I reached for the tiny drops. But he halted, stared directly into my energies, and grinned a radiant smile. Then he pulled back the cup and filled it to the brim. “Oh. Shit.” I thought to myself. Now I’ve really done it.

I took the full amount and staggered back to my makeshift chair. A double dose. My first. And at a time when I already felt the loss of myself, the emergence into the unknown. I had given up the illusion of control. I was going deeper than I had ever been.

To be continued. . .

Happy/Happy/Joy/Joy

The greatest news possible just landed.
Something I have prayed for, declared to the universe as a deep-seeded wish, but ultimately detached from. It’s been granted, and when I least expected the gift.

My shamanic work began in the Amazonian jungle just under 3 years ago. All Ayahuasca ceremonies to date, save one (until next week), have been run by my beloved maestro, Don Rober Acho. Sadly, last year, he left his post at the Sanctuary. Mired in crossed-wires and violated boundaries. I went through a horrible transition, learning to let him go. Accepting the knowledge that I had to move on.

Which I did. I found someone new, stateside, to study with – and the adventure begins next weekend. But I have never lost hope that Don Rober and I would reconnect. He is unspeakably precious to me.

And today, the news came. Howard, the Sanctuary owner and San Pedro / Huachuma shaman, wrote to tell me Don Rober has returned – emerging from the jungle to see if he can get back into the saddle. He doesn’t officially have his post back, but I’m certain this means I will in fact be in ceremony with him again soon. Now I’m all about manifesting the funds for a fast return. I have to create abundance, because so much is at stake. It’s time. No more waiting for the right moment. The world is waiting, 2012 is fast approaching, and I have some rabbit holes to dive into. I just can’t fathom my fortune – all these blessings. And since I have a new beloved someone that simply must come with me, it’s all the more motivation to get out there and manifest. I’ve outdone myself in that department this year thus far, and I’m not about to stop now.

Motivation – coursing through every pore. I am fire – grateful and glowing.