This weekend I bought a crap load of cheap stuff from the clearance section at Linens N Things, finally decorating my house enough to make it look cozy and lived in. I did this on a bizarre whim, after receiving a couch and a few decorative items as hand-me-downs from Mom. It’s like I saw what the house could be like if I just spent a tiny chunk on furniture, and wahlah, I got the bug.

End result: Just two sets of curtains and a couple of barstools (imagine, a place to actually SIT AND EAT) made me cry. CRY. I just felt so blessed, so cocoon-ed, so relieved to have a sacred place to recharge and unwind and transform inside. My meditation/reading room is now officially open for business.

Speaking of business, the planets/stars have been doing some strange voodoo on me lately. I have a natal moon/transiting moon/transiting Neptune aspect going down, and this combo creates a mad amount of psychic energies, out of body experiences, insecurity/safety issues, and hardcore dreams. I have had all of these things in spades.

Case in point: I’ve been having dreams of Seeker lately. He’s the one that brought me to the Amazon the first time – the dynamic king of Hollywood that was so hell bent on destroying himself, he blew up hard enough to burn down the people who loved him too. I allowed this, of course, but our break-up, to this day, was the single most painful revelation I’ve gone through, love-wise, and I could never understand how I could give him such power.
Until 2 nights ago.

We were back at the lodge where everything fell apart for us, in my beloved jungle, after my second Ayahuasca ceremony. This was the Nightmare Night, an evening I prayed for death, quite literally, because my reality had suddenly become far too demonic and emotionally crippling to cope with. Seeker was telling me about his magical evening – the best of his life – where the whole wide world revealed itself to him. He told me about meeting his soul family – a few people that he knew in this life who were also eternal connections – and I remember lying there in complete agony, wanting him to just stop talking so I could understand why I had gone to hell and couldn’t claw myself back. Suddenly, I accepted the notion that if he were to tell me that I, too, was his spiritual connection, that he saw me in his visions and we were bonded forever and ever, in any fashion, that perhaps I could be OK again. Perhaps that could be my life raft.

He never said any such thing. In fact, he spent the entire night talking about his ex-girlfriend – who cheated on him with his best friend, no less – who was in fact an angel, and that he forgave her and couldn’t wait to talk to her again.
Salt on wound? Try hydrochloric acid on an amputee victim. I was done for.

In my dream, however, he took me back to that night and showed me what was in his heart. He literally cracked open his chest to reveal animations of his thoughts. Somehow, I deciphered his messages, and realized that he avoided sharing that I, too, was on his Cosmic Carousel, but he felt too vulnerable to share it with me. He already knew I was going to leave him – spirit had shown him that too – so he kept the information from me to protect himself.
I accepted this. I told him he had been forgiven already, and that none of that mattered anymore.
He, however, was very persistent.

A third party joined us – a faceless dragonfly woman with a computerized, ultra-feminine voice. She told his we had known each other in more than 100 lives, and that we are always teaching each other lessons. I made a wisecrack about how he must love being reincarnated as an asshole, and she basically said that it’s those who hurt us the most that teach us the most as well.

This dream has had an effect. It all makes a beautiful amount of sense to me, though I can’t say I completely agree with dragonlady’s logic – I have learned plenty from those who have loved me in a caring and gentle fashion too. But if you think about it, those who choose to come back into a lifetime to actually hurt a soul mate in order to teach them the things they have chosen to learn – that’s a tremendous amount of selfless love. I believe in these dances, these pre-determined yet highly erratic and unpredictable turns, with all that I am.

It’s weird that wild revelations like these now make perfect sense to me. Sure, my destructive ex-boyfriend is actually an old spiritual connection that, in part, came back down as a colossal prick in order to grant me a little growth and salvation. I can see that. If I ever see him again – in this lifetime, anyway – I will sincerely say thank you.

But unfortunately, these types of acknowledgments do little to console me when I’m in my all too often crying sprees, continuously feeling the pain of that and different rejections, continuously trying to process all this baggage I haven’t yet released. I do a far better job of accepting the grievances thrown at me than I do the gentle love and adoration. That’s a conundrum, a huge imbalance, and something that continues to baffle and frustrate me.

So I have a sanctuary to escape to, to cry inside of, to purge these demons, and to plot my return as a healer, a focused, strong, capable giver. That is, when the stars align, which they will, in short order
Today is not that day.
Today I’m the little girl who is saddened and confused – a head full of knowledge but a heart full of sobby little breakdowns.

The adorable decor of our hotel room in Tucume, at the base of Fire Mountain

To assist, I plopped down in the lotus position right at the end of the mountain’s trail. I asked the universe to make me a beacon, and to start guiding the pilgrims to me. It was selfish, I knew it at the time – I missed my other companions. I wanted Z back. I worried.

The Voice came back once again.

- Trust their processes as you have trusted yours.

- Can I still be a beacon?

I could almost feel the Universe smile.

- Of course. That’s your job.

Within a few seconds, I saw V’s blue windbreaker making her way towards me, and I was elated. So was she. She ran to me and we embraced.

- I saw you in a cloud, Kitty. I saw you flying. You were so soft and beautiful. Do you know how beautiful you are?

I cried and clung to her.

- Oh, stop – it doesn’t matter. We are only mirrors.

She looked at me with complete incredulousness.

- I guess I see others beauty, but never my own?

I nodded and buried myself in her eyes.

More of our friends started meandering down – one by one. I greeted them – sometimes with words, sometimes with embraces, and sometimes silently. But oh my God, I was so happy. I kept thanking the Moon; she told me we were good partners. You need only ask for the elements to help, and they’re there. Just ask. I felt utterly awestruck.

Z was one of the last to meander down, and my heart leapt at the sight of him. I knew he was the group’s guardian, making sure the back of the pack was always accounted for. And me, I was the trailblazer, wanting to be a beacon. I found such poetry in our union.

We walked back to our homestead in reverence, every step digging our lessons in deeper. I pondered the things I learned about myself. I had such drive, such willingness to do what I had to. But there was still ego in the efforts, and that’s what I had to shed. The ego was the one that was fearful. She’s still finding her way down.

Back at our humble abode, we all b-lined for the Mesa. The jaguar skull was moving, its teeth-gritting as it broke into wider and wider smiles. The other objects danced for us, and we felt sucked into this infinite vortex with every breath.

There wasn’t a lot of words, only awe. B, one of the males of the crew, fell to the ground in homage, rubbing his hands deep into the soil. Others of us just stared, seeing different tapestries; hearing different truths.

There were hundreds of mosquitos – massive suckers that suddenly jolted me back to this realm. I excused myself and trekked back to my room, getting warmer clothes and stopping at the bano. I saw myself in the mirror, and I paused to take a moment.

- Your flaws are your beauty.

I said this to myself, as if it weren’t myself. And the real magic here – I believed it.

As I returned to the group outside, we all began to assemble at a nearby fire pit. Our attendant had started a magnificent bonfire, and we huddled around for a variety of reasons – warmth, to escape the mosquitos, and to soak in this magnificent energy. It felt like the mountain had – seething, powerful, and loaded with infinite possibilities. We burned Palo Santo, a cleansing incense, and started to come back into ourselves. We took turn tending the fire, as if our roles had previously been outlined, and I felt the unity of our bonds ignited with our mutual individualities. Unity, and singularity. In perfect harmony.

At last, as the night dwindled, we wandered to the charming dining area and readied ourselves for a bookend – a huge, steaming bowl of the yummiest soup we’d ever tasted. Our darling waitress rushed out to give us the food, and we fumbled over chairs and words, laughing and finding our consciousness once more. The soup flew down my belly and created more fire, more gratitude.

Conversations sparked. DR talked about the holy grail – finding one’s heart. Howard talked about our future Mesas, and the cosmic importance of our work. But I sat silent, soaking it all in, sometimes hearing but always listening. My body felt foreign but comforting, and I fixated on my hands periodically, thanking them for their knowledge and creativity. I thanked my legs for carrying me through this and every day. I thank the Universe for this incredible experience.

As my brain started to fire in a more familiar way, it was finally time to go back to the room. Z and I shuffled back, grinning and shaking our heads – unsure of how to speak of this. I felt a bit of panic as I considered how I would write about my journey, but that voice kicked in again, just as I prepared for my pre-sleep shower.

- Trust the process, dear. Don’t forget — you’re a beacon. You’ll not only find a way, you are the way.

We slept like children, and awoke as warriors.

The Shaman’s Market in Chiclayo, Peru

The experience administered in the jungle is called The Serpent Mesa, because the spirit of the rainforest is embodied in a serpent. It represents the underworld; the place where everything begins. A perfect location to start your ascension.

My experience was magical – I mean, unbelievably so. I had dabbled in other mind-altering substances before, but nothing can hold a candle to Huachuma. He’s a medicine, not a drug. I know understand this difference. His power, benevolence, and spiritual connectedness is unmatched. It’s a slow come-on, unlike Ayahuasca, and the trip up is just as electrifying and awe-inspiring as the trip down. I loved my Amazon Huachuma introduction, and yet, I had just begun to know the power of this brew.

Eleven of us boarded a flight from Lima to Chiclayo at the beginning of the Journey, right on the heels of the latest jungle excursion. We hopped a charted bus ride in Chiclayo to a place called Tucume; it’s a somewhat isolated, rundown, and completely beautiful Peruvian town. There’s a haven there called Los Hortones that feels like it’s the center of the world – our little hotel home for the next three days. It sits in the shadow of Fire Mountain, one of Peru’s sacred Huaca sites. You can feel the energy seething down the mountain without even casting her a glance.

Z and I found our room to be oh-so-Spanish charming. We settled in, had a deep and beautiful conversation, then got some sleep … in preparation.

I thought I knew what to expect, yet, I might as well have been a Huachuma virgin.

We assembled beneath a large tree on our little haven’s yard, and Howard put together the mesa. He placed all the sacred objects on the trio of blankets, telling us what kind of power each one carried. Chairs are situated around the mesa in a semi-circle; men on the right side (the life-taking force) and women on the left (the life-giving force.) This work is all about duality, and the convergence of energies. We all have masculine and feminine forces swimming inside, but the external gender simply represents our face to the world. This structure provides the perfect balance for the beginning of our ritual, and helps hold the symbolism throughout.

Since I knew the drill, I grabbed the first seat on the left. I wanted to be first. I wanted my cup, and I hoped it would be full. I had been waiting for this moment for … well, at least a year. Maybe a few lifetimes.

When it’s your turn to approach the mesa and take your drink, Howard makes a hardcore eyelock with you, says something amazing and profound, and pours your cup of medicine; whatever he feels you need. When he hit my gaze first I felt my body shudder. My mind through out a protest -

- What ARE you doing?
To which my heart calmly answered
- Hush up now, you’re not in charge anymore.

Howard stared me down and smiled, saying simply – “Oh yeah, you’re ready.”

I sat before the mesa, balanced on my knees, and noticed that Fire Mountain was our backdrop. We were headed there, I knew as much, but I felt fear about death and my own physical abilities starting to well up. To quiet the shaking, I closed my eyes and sucked in a few deep breaths. Howard shook his tiny rattles behind me, puffing sacred tobacco around my head. I scooped up the brimming cup, and finally drank the brew.

And so it began.

Once everyone followed suit, we went back to our rooms, gathered our day packs, and started trekking to our mountain. As we approached the base, the medicine was drawing me in. I knew in an instant this would be the most intense experience of my life so far.

At the base, a small and modest museum awaited. We looked at the tiny exhibits, dwelling longest at a recreation of the Mesa work. I looked at the small, off-scale Huachumero, administering the medicine to his sick companions. I saw myself in those stone figures. I had come here for healing. My eyes welled up and I wandered outside, anxious to start our climb.

We all meandered to the base of the mountain, and settled in for some deep meditation. By now, the Huachuma was hitting full throttle. I stopped noticing my shaking, my hot/cold/hot temperature shifts, and the voices in my head. Instead, I found a crevice in the center a large rock formation, and I asked for a hug.

I fell into the rocky walls and experienced my first time travel. I saw myself sitting on this very spot, hundreds of years ago, eating shellfish and dancing around a campfire. As I opened my eyes, I spotted a tiny clam shell at my feet. I smiled, wondering where it could have come from – we were miles from the shore.

The rocks felt soft and comforting. We took in the slowly setting sun, the incredibly gorgeous surroundings, and that bloody mountain; all fiery, rigid, and electric.

Finally, we all came to and moved on; slowly, in little pockets, but with a fierce determination.

I kept bolting ahead, and getting off the path. My voice kept telling me I didn’t need anyone to show me the way; I could find it myself, instinctually. I got lost twice in the beginning. So I clearly needed more work.

Z found me once, calling that I had gone the wrong way.

- I’m following the signs to purgatory.

There were actual signs. I think.

- Well, you’re going the wrong way, he told me.

- That’s a judgment. It’s just your perspective.

But I sheepishly followed suit and bolted back ahead when I got the chance.

We found the pre-made path up the mountain and started up. I walked alone, passing a few other climbers, on their way down. I had already been crying, without really understanding the reason, so I tried to keep my face a bit hidden. There were dozens of stairs, and my legs started to shake.

Gotta keep going, I thought. I have a mountain to climb.
It was like a microcosm for me – representative of the mountains I have to climb in the other world, helping to bring back the consciousness of the masses. Helping them to remember to protect this earth with their lives.
I was willing to give mine in order to hear Fire Mountain’s lessons. I knew she’d give it back.

After a spell, I reached a lookout point. It was situated about halfway up the mountain, and it had a grand view of the lush, beautiful valley. But there was way more mountain to climb. I couldn’t stop yet, and it wasn’t getting any smaller. I turned my head to gauge a path and saw radiant N, another of our crew, bolting up the rocks. Well then, that’s my way.

It was a bit treachorous, and my mind had a field day.
- You’re going to have to climb down this at some point.
I ignored her.
- You’ve lost your crowd. You’re in trouble.
Nope, don’t care – still climbing.
- You’re not strong enough to do this.
Poppycock. I’m doing it.
- There are vultures above. That’s a bad sign.
I looked up to confirm. But they looked beautiful to me – all kinds of majesty.

A few steps from the top, I found my perch. I had come across another Journeyer, my beloved L, and we had encouraged each other these last steps, forging ahead when the other lagged and sharing our energies. She pushed on a bit farther, but I was suddenly unbelievably struck by the sun. Oh my god, she just exploded with light and love. I surveyed the amazing view and just … felt.

Z came along eventually and we shared an awesome moment together. We took pictures of each other and sat in harmonious silence.

Then I heard the wind shift. From way down below, a whisper echoed to me -
- It’s time, girl. Blaze a trail down this mountain. Be the feline you know you are.

I told Z I had to go, and started my way down. It was so freaking hard compared to the push upwards. I fell a few times on steep rock inclines, and suddenly, I found myself completely lost. I kept looking at the possible paths, and they would occasionally look small, large, far, near – all kinds of shifts. The sun was disappearing too, but thank goodness for the near-full moon; I would still be up there if it weren’t for her love. I forgot which direction I was supposed to be traveling. I couldn’t see or hear any of my crew

I was fucking lost on Fire Mountain.

But I remember another woman’s tale of this place, in a blog here on MySpace. She had gotten lost and asked for help. Maybe I had that power too.

My heart absolutely seethed, and the next few steps I took sent me into hysterics. No one was helping. I found a little cave, and decided to ask for another rock hug, and maybe a few directions. That’s when The Voice kicked in.

- Think about this. Think about who you are in your heart. You don’t need anyone else to tell you where to go, love. You know. Just follow your instincts and go.

I closed my eyes, turned in a circle, and stopped when I Knew. Then I started heading in that direction, no longer panicked that I couldn’t see much. The rocks weren’t getting smaller, but I had to keep going. I had to trust this.

I kept walking for sometime, and felt another surge of anxiety. I stopped beneath a large rock hanging to regroup once again; to find my faith. As I fought back the fearful internal protests, I looked up to see Howard. He wasn’t facing me; he was watching for my other companions to find their way down. But he was validation.

- Oh my God, I thought. I did it. The rocks are leading the way.

From there, I turned into a mountain lion and flew down the mountain. I barely remember the rest of the descent; I only know it was effortless. When I hit the bottom, I felt Brand New. I looked up to find myself still sitting at the top, a distant shadow. I knew I had left the doubtful parts of me on that mountain – the girl who wanted to stay safe and live in fear. She died. She isn’t in here any more.

I spotted DR, one of my favorites and a repeat visitor here, and he dove in for a big hug.

- That felt so good, I told him through dirty tears.
- You’re changed forever, girl, he said to me.

Well then, mission accomplished.

There’s more to this story, but I’ll share part 2 in the next release …

That’s Rufa - the only monkey who has my heart AND my apple

Where Ayahuasca is internal, feminine, healing, somewhat fragile and based in the jungle (the lower world), Huachuma is external, profoundly powerful, wisdom-filled, masculine and based in the middle world (it grows in higher elevations in the Andes). With Ayahuasca, you sit in a room in intense meditation, guided by the songs and energies of the Shaman. The experience lasts about 6 hours, and there’s no interaction with the outside world. Strike that – no *tangible* interaction. As you’ve read, there’s a whole wide world of experiences.

Huachuma, on the other hand, IS the outside world – but a part of it you haven’t been in for a very long time. Huachuma awakes us to the spiritual portal, and it works in tandem with something called the Mesa. Mesa means table in Spanish, but with this work, it references the table of energetic, powerful objects that provide that portal into the other side. All ceremonies with Huachuma start and end at the mesa. We ritualistically take the medicine at our makeshift table (see my profile pictures for an example) – it consists of things like a jaguar skull, powerful crystals, candles, shells, condor feathers, Peruvian antiquities, and other objects that come from the places we visit, and thereby carry their infinite energies.
The mesa is like a magnet when you’re deep in Huachuma – it teaches you that everything – EVERYthing – is alive. You can see the movement of these objects and hear their lessons. It’s absolutely magical.

Howard, our leader and Huachumero (Huachuma Shaman) takes his journeyers to 4 sacred sites in Peru to administer these experiences. Wherever we are, we set up the Mesa in the early day, take the medicine, then walk around and experience the sacred energies of our location. The places he has found – or rather, found him – are almost indescribable. I promise to do my best, but just know – you really need to go there. Howard has gained intimate access to ancient pyramids and sacred sites not normally accessible to tourists – that’s because we’re not tourists, we’re Journeyers. There’s a massive difference. We got to go places most humans will never set foot in, but more mind-blowing, we got to experience history and evolution instead of just reading about it. Imagine going to the Parthenon in Athens in an altered state that allowed you to be an ancient Greek, to know what it felt like to be there, and to understand all kinds of elemental secrets – that’s what this process does. The places we visit are Huachas – spots where the raw elemental energies (fire, wind, water, earth) all meet in an unspeakably powerful convergence. Standing in these specific spaces is like recharging your soul. Think of a vortex like Sodona here in the states – so amazing and powerful, but diluted by tourism and negative energies. In Peru, these sites are almost untouched – sometimes dormant for hundreds of years.

This trip was a homecoming for me, the adventure of a lifetime, and the key to understanding who we are, where we’ve been, and where we’re going. You know, the small stuff.

For all four of our expeditions, there is a set “theme”, and this becomes very apparent once we dive in and begin the path. I’ll give you an overview of what’s to come, and then start posting, day by day, my four experiences.

1) The Death Mesa
When we asked Howard what this would be like, he just said simply “You’re going to die. Enjoy it.”
This takes place at a sacred place called Fire Mountain, so Fire was our main element. And what a way to begin, let me tell ya.

2) The Power Mesa
Who doesn’t need to make peace with power? This one takes place at El Brujo (which translates as The Shaman), an ancient site with 2 Moche pyramids. I’ll talk more about the Moche and what these pyramids were for, but this is where it all *really* changed for me. Wind and Water were our focused elements, as the place is located on a desolate strip of coast in Northern Peru.

3) The Transformation Mesa
This one takes place at the most amazing little city in the world – a valley, 10,000 feet about sea level, nestled in the Andes named after the people that once lived here – the Chavin. The Chavin were the first Andean civilization, and they reigned in *complete peace* for 1,000 years. They are the grandfathers of Shamanism, the greatest Shaman who ever lived, and this mesa transpires at a place called the Temple of the Jaguar. Right there, I think you know this one meant the world to me.

4) The Creation Mesa
For this one, we travelled 14,000 feet to the top of the word at a place called Heaven’s Gate. It was formed by a 9.0 earthquake, and as the most beatufiul place on the planet sprung to live, 70,000 people died in a landslide. This one represented the constant flow of life taking and life giving energies in the world, and it allowed us all to tap into the most benevolent, empowering sense of creative power; to, quite literally, change the world.

Good stuff indeed.

So, I know I recently relayed a mini-death on Ayahuasca, but my friends, I was just getting started.

Thanks for joining me on this leg of the Journey. More soon.

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.

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.

Myself and one of the awesome little ones lucky enough to call the jungle Home

Z and I flew down to the Amazon on April 19th, pushing our way through his head cold illness and a whole lotta fatigue to find the womb of the world waiting. This was my third trip, and traipsing through the jungle in those first moments felt more like a homecoming than a trip away from home. My feminine energy seethed, my womb wiggled and my blood bubbled up in cosmic gratitude. Let the ascension begin.

We met our fellow journeyers – beautiful people, every last one. Folks who were reverent and curious and perfectly flawed, looking to heal themselves so they could give the gift on to the rest of the world. I felt so unbelievably honored to share the shamanic dive with such amazing souls.

We worked on our intentions, helped create the Ayahuasca brew, bonded with the shaman, and found the strength to surrender. I and a couple of other peeps had experienced Ayahuasca before, but most were newbies, which excited me beyond words. Watching people transform in the hands of the plants – that’s my idea of reality entertainment. Like the time lapse photography of a orchid in bloom. Perfection.

Our first ceremony occurred on night 2 – faster than usual, but we had much to accomplish. I felt electric, if only a tad anxious. Don Rober, the magnificent, words- cannot-express-how-amazing shaman, began our ritual in the usual fashion; with blessings, with Quecha songs, and with many puffs from the Mapacho, the sacred tobacco. We were ready to fly.

I sat near the end of the semi-circle, watching each of my companions suck down the brew. The first ceremony in any cycle is normally mild by comparison, and the medicine (Ayahuasca) somehow tastes less rancid. It’s as if my cellular memory hadn’t yet kicked back in. The brew went down easy, and I shuffled back to my rocking chair, wrapped up in the woven blanket, blew Z and kiss, and closed my eyes to heal.

She took about 20 minutes or so to fully begin to shift me, and by then, the lights were completely out. In contrast of my last journey, we sat in the dark of the moon, so no light found it’s way into our ceremonial maloka. This didn’t phase me. Darkness is beauty too, after all. As I felt Ayahuasca start to simmer up within, I found myself in an infinite smile. The real homecoming. I asked to release my body and just experience the other side, if only for a few moments. Instead, my Daddy appeared.

I knew I’d see Dad on this trip. When I said good-bye to him at his funeral in February, I knew another hello was just a few weeks away. I didn’t expect him to be so turbo, however – that wasn’t his way in life, but I rejoiced. Jesus appeared to me again – just as during my last cycle – but it was a lightning fast introduction; he swept in front of me with a smile, kissed my cheek, and disappeared, revealing my Dad. And my, what a reunion we had…

I felt him dive around me, our energies embracing. But as I blinked to take him in again, there was nothing; he had disappeared. I’m still here, he told me. It was just hard to appear in the physical form. He spent a lot of time working with me, teaching me to recognize his presence without the use of my unreliable eyes. I felt his hands on mine and I cried an ocean. It felt so magnificent to have Daddy back again. He told me how proud he was of my rebellion, of my courage in finding an alternative spiritual path. He was a rebel, too, and in the end, he acknowledged our similarities. Things that never happened in the Before.

Daddy drifted behind me, offering me strength and support, as the visions intensified. I saw decapitations, wellsprings of bloody water, morphing bodies and faces, and a whole smattering on nonsensical, intensely fast-moving images. This was my mind clutter, spewing out in a visual form. All this crap had to purge in order to get to my core.

As expected, I felt the purge rising up as the clutter pushed forward. I didn’t resist her. I leaned in with a grin into my bucket, expelling a few poisons and feeling 80 pounds lighter. Then I heard the room start to erupt in other purgings, and I felt so fucking alive. I couldn’t help smiling, couldn’t help marveling at how absolutely fantastic this process was. I was home I was home I was home.

I never wanted to leave.

The rest of the night cascaded me with vibrance and strength, showing me futures and pasts and endless streams of animals, asking for my help. Begging me to stop the madness. My animal spirit, the majestic Jaguar I call Sacha, appeared with a mischievious grin; also thrilled to have me back. My cat Boo appeared, diving in for love as well, but every last pair of eyes beckoned for my protection. I listened. I promised. I melded with their energies.

So much gratitude. So much joy. And yet, I resisted – I felt it and said hello. WHy would I do that, I wondered? An obvious answer – because I connect too much with the balance of things. I started to feel anxiety around my bliss, knowing that pain must be around the corner.
But I need not create that, my voice echoed. I need not fear the other side – only to be present for these joyful lessons.

I plastered on a grin and just freaking let go. And it was unspeakably blissful.

And then a message came through; one I had heard before, but needed reminding. There’s no such thing as death. It doesn’t exist.

All the same, she said, prepare yourself – you’re going to die soon. It just has to be.

I came back into the room and into my body toward the end of the ceremony, as the shaman sealed us up, and as I walked with Z back to our cozy room, I pondered this coming death. I welcomed it. I knew it would be beautiful.

Ayahuasca vine, wild and wonderful

After 8 sacred ceremonies with 2 different shaman and 2 separate medicinal plants, covering hundreds of miles across every imaginable type of Peruvian terrain, I´m ready to begin the trip home. This has been an astoundingly powerful and insightful trip. I was ready for change, open to transformation, and yet I could have never predicted the ways in which the spirit would change and guide me.

I can`t wait to share. I can`t wait to tell you of time traveling, world visions, spiritual ascension, and unspeakable gifts. I have the kind of joy and peace in my heart now that will exist no matter what befalls the world. Even with a gun to my head, I surrender. There is simply nothing more sacred.

Am I enlightened? No, not yet, but I`m on my way. Z has shared the entire experience with me, and it has solidified our bond into permanence. Perhaps my favorite gift.

But for now, we board a bus for a grueling ride from Huaraz to Lima, rest a day or two in the capital, and jet off home to LA.

From there, it`s world changing or bust.

A bridge to lift us out of the mud - jungle walk to see the Bora

But I want Peru.
I’ve spent the morning looking into a move – you know, maybe next year. I can take my cats. I can find a place to live. But I would have to find a job, and I’d prefer a volunteer thing. Maybe the Peace Corps. There are many options. And Z is open too.
All I know is that I am aching.

I’ll be back in April/May, to my beloved Jungle and through the Andes. More Ayahuasca, lots more Huachuma. I am finding oodles of past kindreds who will be joining me for all or part of the journey, and I could cry it makes me so joyful. How blessed am I to have found my life’s work.

Must run now – I’ve started a parasite cleanse and it’s time for today’s afternoon dose. Plus, Z bought a “zapper” that also aims to kill the feeding critters deep inside. Just you wait now, in a couple of weeks, I might be reporting some worm poo. That’ll teach you to miss a day o’ the blog.