Intellectually, I know what’s transpiring.  I have poured myself into integrity, into finding out my true self, and relinquishing the ego’s stronghold.  I have declared truth at all costs, willing to feel whatever I must to liberate.  But oh my fucking god, sometimes I feel like it’s killing me.  (That’s that small me talking, and I suppose she feels that way because. . .it’s true.)

This last month has been like the opening line of A Tale of Two Cities – the best and worst of times.  And everything in between.  I have had authentic, heart-stopping moments of complete surrender, complete knowingness of my divinity, and complete ownership of what this world really is and isn’t.  Coupled by breakdowns so painful, I literally feel like I’m being split in two.

I’m in the space of the latter right now, although it’s a crowded space.  There are two very real points of view – sometimes many more.  The disappointing thing is that the small side keeps getting the upper hand.  I have wailed with sadness and pain today.  And then hopped RIGHT back to the kind of surrender that would make a Taoist ogle and ahhh.  I’m dizzy and tired and I want to scream, cry, and laugh hysterically.  All at once.  Which, if I’m counting correctly, has already transpired four times.

Why the insanity?  It’s all a matter of contrast.  I have wisely chosen a partner that is immensely powerful, and equally dedicated to this path.  Maybe even more so – another petty fear.  And while my process is ripe with emotional outbursts, head-splitting terror, and ridiculous little sob stories, his is as graceful and joyful as any I’ve seen.  He just had another incredible, indescribable experience – so close to knowing the All it feels completely inevitable.  And nobody – nobody – deserves it more.  He is transforming so much and so fast, sometimes I feel like I don’t know him.  But then I see his eyes shining at me, and realize it’s the *real* him.  He is so, so beautiful.

But I am torn to absolute pieces over the stark, embarrassing, and devastating contrast between us.  The more he shines, the more my insecurities and fear rise up and threaten to strangle me.  I am so damn beaten down and so ready to take on all the more – both at the same time.  It’s (sometimes) overwhelming.  I’m a walking contradiction, a non-stop paradox.  And I wonder why I am so afraid of losing my sanity.

Pi, your words of wisdom are my anchor right now.  I know I’m in a state of resisting this painful process, which is really where the rub is.  As you always say, “whatever state you’re in is perfect”.  Adya has the perfect words for this too – “when the resistance comes up – gently ask yourself: Is there a reason I need to resist this?”  When I do so in my quiet voice, all of me breathes a sigh and answers – No, I guess not.

As much as I don’t know any other game to play other than this big cosmic whirlwind, for now, I don’t know any other way to play it.  I ache for the ease / grace / flow I see reflected back to me by Orion.  But apparently I don’t want it badly enough, because I keep feasting on the darkness.  I know why.  It’s where my power is.  But in this small space in which I currently dwell, I resent that.  Because I’m really, really afraid I won’t always be able to fight back.  Not that it matters in the grand scheme, but I’m well aware this game is anything but small.  The stakes get higher as my ego’s resistance intensifies.  It’s only a matter of time before one of us wins.

The door to the ceremonial maloka at my favorite Amazon Ayahuasca lodge

I’m trying. I’m really fucking trying – to live a spiritual life, to be a shockingly honest person, to heal every bloody wound and to give the world all it deserves. But tonight is a breakdown. There are no obvious circumstances to trigger such chaos – at least to an outside observer. I know what this is about, and yet I still don’ want to feel it.

First, let’s get the particulars out of the way.
I feel -
Very, very hurt. Earth-shatteringly solitary / abandoned / diminished. Absolutely disgusted by my body, the state I’ve allowed myself to fall into. Rage for the lies I’ve told myself and others. Massive resistance to facing the music.
I know better, on all accounts. I’m usually so gentle with myself these days. So forgiving, so quick to see the positives. I don’t know where this came from and yet. . .I know where this came from. I always know, and that, too, drives me insane. Yeah, I miss the victim days. It used to be so easy.

Joyful, cheery, strong. Grateful for this incredible life I have. That’s who I am – who I want to always always always experience. I am still slow to accept that I am also someone who has emotions, and breakdowns, and that ugly nasty word I don’t even like to see – Anger. Why the damn dichotomy? How is it I can love so sincerely the emotive, healing process – and nurture others with incredible joy as they navigate their way through the pain – and yet have such judgment for the same process in myself?

I’d really like to shutdown right now. The profundity of it all is scaring me to pieces. I wrote my Guru just two days ago and asked for the next round of healing. I asked for this. And now I want to shove it back into the hole from which it came.

I’m feeling broke, powerless, needy, and lost. All lies, by the way, but somehow the illusion has a hold of me. I even watched a horribly negative “expose” on TV this eve as I powered my way through the cardio workout at the gym. I never indulge in that crap anymore, and yet there I was, gasping at some teenage girl’s gang rape account, feeding into the negativity. I caught myself and quickly switched back to my iPod, but the damage was done. It pushed me farther in.

Poetic, I guess, because it is helping me get here – a place of feeling. A place I’ve turned away from. . .countless times. Countless.

So. Much. Magic. I see it, I’m in the experience of it, but when I’m overwhelmed with tears and pain and fear and rage and total desperation – it’s hard to know how to breathe, let alone smile and feel grateful. I am disgusted that I feel this way, I’ll be honest. This is the part of spiritual evolution that I dislike the most. I hear myself sob and it makes me cringe. And of course I can’t drink it away, I can take a tab of E and escape, I can’t do anything but wallow now – this lovely little reality I’ve created. All the outlets are gone.

That is, in part, why I’m angry. I guess I didn’t expect the clean / sober / fully conscious road to be littered with such cosmic breakdowns. But without anything to numb the uprising, it stands to reason that the emotions would have so much more Power. I haven’t felt this kind of freakout for – well, years. Since I used to sit around dreaming about suicide all day, drinking and drugging and doing whatever I could to shut out the pain. Doing whatever I could.
Now, I do whatever I can to confront these demons. Despite the protests. They’re stronger than I ever imagined. I don’t even understand the sources. I do and I don’t and it doesn’t matter anyway – I feel them. They’re so blindingly real.

That’s why I’m here, writing To be honest. To release a layer or four. To try and make sense of what I already know. I know. But I’m also supposed to feel. There’s no other way out of the horrendous illusion. Why it makes me so angry, so blind with fear, so quick to throw up a thousand No Thank You Walls. . .

So I’ll go cry and release and break shit and yell and throw a fitful tantrum. And then I’ll laugh about it and wonder why I make things so much more challenging than they need to be.

The next time you feel the tears coming on, for heaven’s sake, just go there. It’s the only way out of the madness.

“No ones picking up the phone
Guess its me and me
And this little masochist
Shes ready to confess
All the things that I never thought
That she could feel.”
-Tori Amos, Hey Jupiter

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.

My friend William, who I spent 2 Peruvian journeys with - he’s got himself a jungle bird.

I’ve said this before – night three of Ayahuasca gave me one loud and proud gift: to stop resisting. I kept asking “Stop resisting what?” and she’d answer back “See, that’s resistance! Stop it!” And we’d giggle and run in circles and then I’d morph into a jaguar and visit a past life and come back with more questions. But I am feeling this more and more, the universal acceptance.
At that time, I thought the lesson was all about resisting my pain and fear and overwhelming confusion. I could certainly accept that – the need to just let it all come up (purge, baby, purge) and not fight with the emotions. But what I realized today is that I have a harder time accepting the *good* things. That I am loved. That I can reach my dreams, and even surpass them. That I, just like everyone else, am actually worthy.

So I said to the cosmos – thank you. These gifts you’re granting me – I accept. Enough with the I don’t deserve this dialogue. Where does that come from? I have an ideal of perfection and I don’t meet the vision. So therefore, I guess I withhold things from myself, in punishment. Well, that’s poppycock. I accept that I can be loved – unconditionally. I accept that I can indeed be a kickass independent writer with no ties to the corporate world – it’s what I want. It’s already happening. I’m going to stop resisting now.

There was a woman I met once – a new girlfriend of one of my Favorites. I bounded into the room to meet her, a ball of light and joy, and ran up to tackle hug her. She threw out her palm and stopped me short. “No, thanks.” I felt like I had gone head first into a barrier. Three years later, she still will have nothing to do with me. She still resists the fact that I don’t want to steal her man, and I really just want us to be friends. And I think, what a bunch of drama she’s created. What a heaping pile of unnecessary darkness. Then I look at my life and shudder at all the ways I’ve done the same.

Boo is lying at my feet, purring and gazing up at me with that all-adoring look. He doesn’t resist my love. He’s my teacher in all of this. We should all be so open, so able to receive.

This weekend, I will get my hair done and feel fierce and powerful. I will share a meal with my new love and my best friends. And we will go *dancing* – a chance to channel the energies of the universe and unify. I am open and positively elated. I am lucky beyond words. And I really need another macchiato.