Physically, I haven’t known a single threat. For that, I say thank you.
Emotionally, yeah, you could say there’s been a war or two.

There’s this thing about a book. I have had a contract for publication in progress now for the better part of 2 years. That may be over. There are lawsuits waging, horrendous accusations, and more than a few unkind words for me, one of the very few unwilling to blame anyone else but myself. Blame isn’t the right word. I’m not angry if this falls through, nor am I looking for a scapegoat. It’s all about the journey.
That’s not to say my heart didn’t crack wide open when I heard the news. It’s not official – the company is still trying desperately to prevail – but I can’t say it looks good. Maybe it never did. My rose-colored glasses are sometimes not see-through. I know this, but I also don’t know any other way to be.

I’ve already grown accustomed with the idea that my book may not be published how and when I thought it would. My heart breaks every time I think of it, still, but I can smile about it. I can believe there’s either another way, or a message in there that maybe that’s not the end goal. Doesn’t matter, I’ll just keep writing.

I’ve also been called to honor my duality in ways I never imagined these past weeks as well. See, I grew up most of my life relishing my darkness, unafraid of her depths, and admittedly indulged in the dark hours way too much. I took substances – any substance, really – to dull my senses and help me wallow more. All that is gone now, the obsession and escapist side, but what I realized is that I tried to dishonor that half of me – wish her out of existence.

It’s just not possible. How dare I think half of me had to go away.

When I was last in Peru, I went to a place called El Brujo, the site of human sacrifices during the mochi tribe. They killed some of their strongest as a gift to the gods, so they could be spared the wrath of El Nino. I came to completely and totally understand not only the necessity, but the beauty of these actions. I also came to know that no matter how much it tried to seduce me, I myself would never succumb to the allure of ultimate power and darkness. I could walk to the edge, however often I chose, to observe and witness and Know. But I would never go too far. Not because of some insane brute strength, but because of my goodness. We all have it, but I got to see mine. Indisputable.

I thought when I left that vortex, those sacred grounds, I could cast of the darkness and just revel in the light.
See, I still have so much to learn.

As a Gemini and a human, I walk in contradiction every day. I’m finished denying the parts of me that don’t look the way others feel they should – myself included. I will simply love. Myself, the god-realizeds and the murderers alike. No more resistance.

Life is changing. In a big, big way. All I can do is receive as best I know, and not let the judgments land. Listen as best I can, but never let it sway the inner voice.

Sounds simple enough, yes? I just wonder where it will take me next . . .

art of the Sanctuary - the stairs lead to the hammocks, with a view of the river

Of course, I now know better. It was just what I needed, like every other night. Despite the incredible pain during those hours spent with Don Mariano, I thank him with all my heart for shifting me out of the mind of a victim.

So, I was ready for his return. As much as I could be.

When it was time for the ceremony to begin, Don Mariano was nowhere in sight. Don Rober, our trusted previous guru, appeared in ceremonial garb and began his blessings. This was abnormal, but not completely shocking – we were told he would be on “spiritual security watch”, so perhaps he was getting things started. My heart wouldn’t accept that maybe, just maybe, he would be the one and only guide. It was too much to wish for.

Yet when I saw him blessing his Ayahuasca bottles, I knew that was precisely what was happening. For whatever reason, the guest had not arrived. I felt both elated and a bit disappointed. I felt so attached to Don Rober, yet I was ready to face down a few fears/demons. But of course, I could still get my wish – it was just the guide who had changed. So I allowed my heart to surge, and felt happier than seemed humanly possible.

Quite often, the first and last doses of a cycle are the most mild and fuzzy. I can’t say this was my expectation, but that fact did linger in my mind. Yet as the brew came on with a vengeance, and I saw windshield wipers appear and wipe out the voices in my mind as a hand pushed me deep inside the earth’s core – well, I knew I wasn’t getting off easy. Not that I wanted to.

I could easily call this night the most intense experience of my life. I fell back into my body from time to time, fearful that perhaps I was seriously ill. Night sweats, severe and thunderous shaking, and many feverish surges ripped through my body. I kept doing my best to ignore this response, unsure if it was real or just another mind trick. Either way, I needed to listen.

Thousands of dark images whisked around before my eyes. There were hundreds of faces; mostly tribal, and many were very young. They would look innocent and lovely, then abruptly merge into maniacs with razored teeth and dripping blood. Claws reached out for my senses, bats dove in to devour me, and other spiritual demons beckoned for me to follow.

I watched with intense curiosity, but yet felt completely emotionless. At some point, I realized I was being tested. Would I feel fearful? Enticed? Angry?
No, on all accounts. I watched them with compassion. I knew I was evolving.

My thoughts then shifted to the other people in the room. For the millionth time, I marveled at each and every person’s strength and beauty. I sent myself to where they sat, one by one, and listed the unique traits they held that made them so remarkable. And I felt their love in return. Such an amazing, dynamic, powerful group – full of light and love.

- Yet, they’re all demons too.

I nodded at the Spirit’s observation.

- Yes, of course – we are good and evil intertwined. There is no real distinction.

She showed me real-life evil-doers like Cheney and Bush, and I ran to them with love. Whomever she placed before me, I hugged with tenacity. And sincerity. I saw myself – each and every vision was a mirror.

There was no place for judgment or superiority. Only recognition and love. I felt myself swell from the profundity, but she told me not to ponder what it all meant. Only to feel. Feelings are far more trustworthy – the mind is just a bag of tricks.

It took me eons to purge, and that kept drawing me out of the experience. Not everyone purges all of the time, but I had yet to have a ceremony without at least one meager release. I held extreme pain in my belly, but I kept smiling at the acidic protests and rubbing the area with a loving smile.

- What are you resisting?

I thought about this repeatedly. I had no answer. Many times, I wanted to cry from helplessness.

Then the visions would return and take me away. This night, there were SO many sounds – eruptions I knew were just for me. Techno sounding effects resounded from all corners of the maloka, and it soothed me. The animals sang in a cacaphonous symphony, along with the crickets and snakes, and I found it heavenly. All these cosmic distractions, keeping me from feeling the pain.

Christ, that was the point, wasn’t it? I bolted up in my chair to find a little clarity.

- Yes, that’s it -
I spoke to the Spirit.

- Pain is just perception too.
I remember all of these sounds from previous ceremonies – they drove me mad. I hated the intensity. I feared every last echo.
But not anymore.
I don’t have to experience pain if I don’t want to. I can always rise above.

Two motherly hands came and cupped my cheeks in support.

- Of course, child. Pain is inevitable, but you decide it’s power.

She pulled me forward and rubbed my back. A few minutes later, I had a hard, magnificent purge. I imagined the pain as a glowing orb, pushed out through my intestines and through my open mouth. When I sat up, I felt nonexistent. My body had disappeared. I was just light, just energy – feeling only joy. I have no words to describe such weightlessness; I can only say that I know what it is to die – and to return to the place from which we all came from. Absolute and utter bliss.

I cried oceans as the ceremony drew to an end; I didn’t want to stop this process. I didn’t want to say goodbye. But I smiled through my outbursts, so absolutely joyous that I discovered this path. Oh so very … blessed.

The next morning, we received our final flower bath. As you awake after a ceremony at this lodge, the Shaman lingers near a special little structure, with a plastic chair and a massive tub of ice cold, rosey smelling water littered with flower pedals. When you’re ready, you visit him in private, and he douses every single body part with this magnificent elixir. It’s a way of shocking you back into your body, of sealing up the experience. He sings you a final healing blessing, and it feels like a real ending – in the best possible way.

That morning, I cried and heaved as Don Rober sang to me, then I clutched him and said, in rough Spanish, that I loved him always. He would forever be in my heart. He said the same to me. We hugged repeatedly, gave sweet kisses, and he cried with me. That’s the kind of angel he is. We both are.

I left knowing I was ready to face whatever awaited. I even hoped it would be insanely challenging – because I could take it. I didn’t want an easy road; I had done too much to build myself up.

The next day, we were all to leave on part 2 of the adventure – a leg called the Journey Through Time. We would retrace 2 ancient Andean civilizations, partake in 4 Huachuma ceremonies (another uber-powerful sacred plant) and visit the most sacred places in Peru – and the world.

More stories to come, loves – vastly different, and yet so much the same.

A perfect little hut in the Peruvian Amazon. My jungle tis of thee.

There are still so many things I fear. All tied up in myself. I fear tomorrow – the sabotage may have extended into places I wasn’t ready for. At least, not consciously. Yes, I keep harping on how I love change, but like most, I prefer those changes I myself control. That’s what the buzzing is – a reminder that it’s not all up to me. Not the awake, egotistical me. Maybe the Higher Self me, the girl behind the curtain, but she isn’t the one steering the eyes-open ship. She isn’t the one who has a grip on all this . . .anxiety.

I am reminded today of how secretive I am. The things I hide are both miniscule and gargantuan, and I’m starting to learn a bit more about the motivation. I am aces at punishing myself. Why I think I deserve such agony – that’s the core. It doesn’t feel like past life/karmic debt, but I’m going to back to the Amazon to explore that option more. No, it seems more like a challenge to see how much I can really take. I feel somewhat desperate to prove my strength, but only to myself. Not sure why that matters so much. In any event, I feel like it’s proven. Repeatedly. So my vision is to let that go already and just be Real.

I watched Capote yesterday – the consummate writer. He preached about the importance of the truth but lied at every turn. Of course he did – he was a story teller. He was full of self-hatred like the rest of us. And even though he became the most famous writer in America, he never published another book after reaching such success, and drank himself into oblivion.
I can relate. The writer’s path. But I’m fighting back.

Shhhh, that’s a secret.