I promised Tantra at the end of the last post.  Tonight, there’s a whole lot more brewing.

Orion and I have been entering officially into Tantric spaces about once a week these days – this has been consistent for many weeks now.  We keep marveling about how we instinctively fell into so many Tantric rituals without really being aware of it – so much of what we’re learning are practices we’ve already been shifting into.  It’s marvelous in that sense – the energies are very much the leaders of the show, not our individual selves.  Tantra appeals to me in part because of this required surrender – when I really let go in the sacred spaces Orion and I create, there is no more “I”.  There are moments of such intense freedom, I often shutdown or have an emotional response as a result.  How can that be?  Intimacy still scares the flipping tar out of me.  ”Me”, the fragile little ego-state, the part that is in the continuous process of transforming, dying, and rebirthing.  The endless loop, until it is no more.

Our Tantric experiences as of late have been really vast and mystical.  In one, Orion asked if he could just. . .adore me.  He spent the entire time kissing every inch of me, as I lay surrendered on our crisp white duvet, used only for these rituals.  And when I let the intense sincerity of his adoration really land within my being. . .I cried, steadily, as I am right now.  The reasons – they are many.  On one level, it felt / feels so electrifying to receive such pure, divine love.  And on another level, I felt the direct contrast of the old energies I used to harbor and protect – the self-destruction, the worth issues. . .all the ways in which I didn’t love myself.  And so in those moments, I felt both in equal doses – love and adoration for myself, and that old angry, destructive programming.

Other Tantric times have been vastly different.  In one, I felt the need to balance the energies and spend time adoring Orion.  Although I feel like I’m almost always in that space, it felt magical to adore the divinity in him, without the rest of the stories.  When we walk into our sacred space, we are no longer Kitty and Orion: we are Kali and Shiva, our chosen god-identities.  And because we drop the stories of ourselves, surprises keep surfacing.

What I am facing with fierce intensity these days is the extent of my previous, and to be honest, still-present, self-destruction.  Every time I start eating or drinking things in an unconscious state, I acknowledge the inherent destruction.  I’ll be scarfing down a pile of junk, all the while in full awareness of how this is not out of love, but I don’t stop.  I choose to continue the damage.  The excuse mentally is always long and convoluted – it doesn’t really matter what I eat, one cheat-session doesn’t hurt any, blah blah blah.  The truth is, it’s not out of love, it’s an urge to keep me from being intimate *with myself*.  I am starting to really understand this impulse.  The healthier I am, the more undefended and raw I am.  And in turn, I have way more energies to pore into the divine transformation.  My beloved ego doesn’t like those spaces – she likes what is familiar, and escaping in food is very, very familiar.  But the food, and the layers of fat that have developed as a result, act as a barrier between myself and my power, in a sense.  It creates a very real feeling story of my lack of self-worth.  I’ve been falling for this trap a whole lot again – a very familiar dance for me. But this time around, it feels deeper and more mesmerizing than ever before.

This brings me to the present.  I just finished my first day of the new apprenticeship.  It took me 9 hours to get here and I didn’t land until the wee hours.  A few hours of sleep gave me just enough vibrancy to be heart-spaced and open to the experience, and even though I got lost (just 2 miles to my destination from my hotel, and still. . .it’s a gift), I still felt fantastic when I arrived at my Teacher’s house.  She and her space are both profoundly divine.  Earth-Teacher has an incredible quiet strength, but she greeted me with a truly sincere and supportive embrace.  My other apprentice travelers are equally warm and wonderful.  There’s four of us total, plus Teacher, and it’s an absolutely perfect mix.  Today was an introduction of sorts – we settled into our collective energies, listened to Teacher share some core concepts of the Plant-Work, and embarked on a few magnificent experiential journeys.

Through it all, my theme for the day was intimacy.  Our work early on in the day allowed us to drop intimacy walls with each other and start feeling that ever-present connection.  That came very easily – a marvelous revelation, as this used to be a gargantuan battle.  Proof that all these exercises really do work to get us into our true natures.  I’ve come along way since the first MITT session.  Later on, we spent time with plants – just feeling them.  Feeling being the operative word here.  The core of the work I’m embarking on is feeling – a stark contrast to the Jnana Yoga I have energetically engaged in every Sunday with the Sangha crew, and every seeming moment with sweet Orion.  Jnana Yoga is an aggressive path in many ways, as it’s a mental attack at enlightenment concepts, and serves the engager by exhausting him or her intellectually until they finally surrender into something other than their mind.  I play this game with sincere muster, but it has shown it’s limitations to me – or maybe it’s my limitations with it.  Regardless, all the talk and experience of *feeling* today *felt* freaking fantastic.  In many ways, my internal self was saying “Girl, welcome home.”  But in others. . .well, I just felt like a fish out of water.

I have tools to protect my ego in the mental spaces.  There’s a sense of control in there, and that’s why I love to play there.  Feeling offers me no such luxury – it is the ultimate in surrender, as it forces me to A) experience exactly what IS inside of me and B) drop the desire to control my external experience – that is, to look good / normal / sane / stable by NOT being emotional.  I, like many of the rest of us, have been programmed to believe that showing emotion is weak, and not really welcome in most spaces.  That’s obviously not true, but it’s an insanely powerful belief.  I’m willing to drop that story, and as such, man are there some emotions in there.  Ayahuasca has helped me *immensely* to allow those to brew up, with meditation + Vipassana also offering huge leaps in this arena.  And here I am again, diving into another fiercely intimate adventure.  I know the five of us are going to have some mindlessly powerful experiences.  One day in, and I’m already having responses.  I’m so happy to be here, but so freaked out at the same time.  The perfect place to be, really – actively pushing the boundaries of comfort.  And in a way the feels absolutely perfect.  Safe, in an unsafe way.  Mmmmm duality.

Tonight though, I’m feeling more than just a joyful gratefulness for finding a new shamanic home in this apprenticeship.  My favorite friends in the desert are having a very, very special, bonded evening tonight.  A ceremonial celebration all their own.  Orion will be there – as will, well, just about everyone else that I feel an intimate bond with back home.  So yeah, there’s some serious sadness in not getting to share that.  As much as I know I’m right where I need to be. . .I *want* to be there, with them.  To have both worlds accessible.  And so I’m sulking a bit in my cheap hotel room.  There’s also a horrifically intense fear of the lack of boundaries Orion and I share.  I love our independence, I love our lack of rules and structure.  We fully support each other in being whomever we are called to be in every moment.  I would not change a thing about this openness, and yet, it paralyzes me sometimes, because of how much it forces me to trust and surrender.  Ego doesn’t want to trust and surrender, she wants to feel as if everything is under control.  Yet there is no such thing.  And when Orion and I enter the altered, no-holds barred spaces, either together or separate, all the fear and pain surrounding intimacy and trust surface within.

Here I am, in this bizarre scenario.  A Motel 6 in a tiny town in New Mexico.  Day one of a shamanic apprenticeship – learning to see and experience the world in a different way – like, as Teacher said today, an undefended child.  Sitting here with the knowingness that my friend-family are falling into an intimate, connected space without me.  Not knowing what any of this really means.  Afraid of beginnings and endings and deaths and rebirths.  Looking in the mirror and feeling hatred for the body I see looking back, who just looks back with innocence and neutrality.  It’s all so familiar and foreign at the same time.  Yeah, like an undefended child – I am protection-less and raw.  What is there to be protected from, anyway?  You can’t protect yourself from life.  And really, when it comes down to it, who would want to.

And so I’ll spend some time crying and feeling tonight.  Allowing the perceived separation to wash over me, so that I may reconnect with the oneness that is always waiting.  Every moment is a choice, with regards to how we experience it.  I will feel what I need to, without resistance – all the while keeping a direct connection with my beautiful observer.  The one looking down with a smile and seeing all that is.  No judgment, no duality, just awareness.

I am grateful for all that is – this ocean of tears, the trembling rising up and out of my body, the child that looks back at me in the mirror, the many faceted journey I am on.  Teacher said today, one of her favorite bumper stickers says “Remember who you always wanted to be.”  Me, I always just wanted to have adventures – to travel everywhere, to do everything, to love everyone.  Tonight, I can honestly say – mission accomplished.

Serpent Mesa, Howard Lawler, Amazon

I had procured Huachuma cactus sometime ago, with the intention of embarking on a sacred ceremony in the near future. A little blurb was scribbled into my to-do list recently: “Schedule Huach. Ceremony”. I guess by that I meant: “Dive in, and fast.”

Orion went forth on another vision quest recently. When he returned from the last one, I (seemingly) fell to pieces. There’s an inner conflict in me sometimes that spurs me into a competitive spirit with regards to this spiritual path wildness. I *know* how off kilter that kind of motivation is, spurred forth by a fear of being left behind, instead of a sincere knowingness about what’s right for me. But there’s a panic that has previously stirred, and she sometimes drives the bus right off the nearest cliff.

On this, his second trip to the desert, we were both in spectacular spaces. I have parred back my own “must do’s” in my spiritual path, and instead have found a groove that just feels right. My own. Mind you, there’s a whole lotta objection going on internally at times, telling me I’m not doing enough, or that I’m doing things incorrectly, but I’m learning more and more to reign that in and just be as I need to be. And let Orion do the same. Lately, that’s not only been working, I’ve also surrendered to the beautiful task of elevating him all the more. What’s my biggest (small) fear, anyway? That he reach the top of the mountain first? Pshaw. There is no worst case in this mixture. I would be so, so honored to be by his side and witness such an opening. He is not only my partner, he is a very tangible extension of my own consciousness. As each of us receives new openings and expansions, so does the other – it’s the magic of this oneness. So yes, I know better. But I don’t always show it.

He went out some days ago, and I felt thrilled for him. Another chance to slip past the egoic spaces and connect with his divinity. There can never be too many. As I pondered my evening’s events, however, something occurred to me – I have Huachuma at home. I, too, can have a journey.
But I wondered – is this in integrity? Am I motivated by the desire to “keep up”, or does this feel destined?
I asked the universe for a sign and received what I felt was a very, very clear one – affirming the timing and the rather spontaneous idea. I was off to the races.

This was my first solo ceremony, my first experience finding my own brew. I had some powdered cactus, the same varietal I had used in Peru, and I had already researched preparations and dosages. So I lay out all my favorite mesa items – objects of power and inspiration – and lit some candles, then I mixed up a big glass of San Pedro goodness.
Goodness? No – thick, putrid, stomach vile-tasting nastiness is more like it. Thankfully, it’s common practice to chase the drink with lemon water, and that helps neutralize the flavor. Plus, Grandfather Huachuma hasn’t got anything on Mother Ayahuasca when it comes to taste. About 30 minutes later, I had downed my targeted amount, and the journey began.

Huachuma is so different from Aya. Where the latter is like an axe wielding maniac sometimes, diving into my consciousness with a brute force I couldn’t dream of combating, the former is more like an uber-intense electrical current, but one you actually have to reach out and touch. He pulses with every aspect of life, and within him swirls every secret, and every bit of knowledge. But he makes you work for it. He asks that you come to him – with reverence and sincerity, curiosity and surrender.

The night unfolded elegantly. I walked around a lot, asking questions on the insides, finding more of myself. And at other times, I lay curled up by the fireplace, transfixed on the flame licks, and on the movement of the mesa. I was shown the backside of my fears, revealed to be empty. Like a theater curtain hiding a stage that sounds like it’s bustling with activity, but in fact doesn’t contain a soul. Yes, of course. My fears are all self-made, and non-existent at that. There’s nothing behind them to make them tangible or real. I loved this reveal. And so many more.

He basically kept guiding me through different layers of life and divinity. I felt humbled and cocooned, but also confused and amateurish. I sat at the mesa absolutely awestruck by the tools I had before me, but without the knowledge of how to really use them. I felt a calling to find a local huachumero and huachumera – someone who can show me how to work with these energies, rather than just fumbling blindly in the dark by myself. I trust the teacher will find me when the timing is right. And it’s not as if I didn’t learn an immense volume of tricks and gifts – I just know my training will be accelerated when I find a true master.

The entire evening, my main experience was safety. A sense of cocooned protection so real it had a taste to it – rather like soil and feathers, cotton and rosemary. He showed me the highest way to work with his energies – outside, in daylight. Do regular journeys in this fashion, and then the occasional nighttime journey when I had the need to integrate. He showed me how on Huachuma, I’m able to see things as they really are – there’s nothing magical in his visions, only the removal of our conscious barrier. The veil that normally sweeps across my mind’s eye is dissolved by San Pedro, and with practice and concentration, I can make this a permanent experience.

And that’s when it hit me. Why the alternate name for Huachuma is San Pedro. I translated this in my head – Saint Peter. Who is Saint Peter? The man who greets us at the gates of heaven.
Aw yes, the one who will lead me to enlightenment.
It all just. . .clicked. This was *my* path – at least in the given moment. I allowed for the chance to drop shamanism from my experience at any time, but also owned the rightness of our current connection. Perfection. I glowed for hours.

And yet, there was a single distortion – I knew down deep I hadn’t been totally honest with myself, or San Pedro. I had taken this journey out of fear, in a way – not wanting to miss out on my chance to go deep, just like Orion. I confessed this to San Pedro, and he held no judgment. Just warmth. He acknowledged this truth, and said he’d take me however I came to him. That my reverence was no less diminished, but if I wanted to, I could heal that part of me. The small child, the little girl who didn’t want to be left behind. The critic who always tells me I’m never doing enough.

I didn’t go as deep into that healing as I know I will with Ayahuasca, but it opened, and some revelations came through. Seedlings. It won’t be long now.

Yet this distortion still had some spike left to it. When Orion came home, things started out beautifully. We shared our stories, and I basked in the glow of his magnificent experience. We were so happy for ourselves and each other, heart-spaced, clear, open – all good things.

Until an odd little chat on the bed turned into a painful shift – all because I wouldn’t fess up. I didn’t admit to being out of integrity in my motivation (although that’s not what the conversation was about, that was the underlying unconscious out-of-whack energy), and therefore lost my grip on my clarity all together. It was a subtle slip, but Orion saw through it in an instant. He called me out and I denied it. And that caused a riff that would unravel, rather magically, in the next 48 hours.

As Pranananda says, intent is 90% of the game. Since mine was about 20% laden in a lie, the repercussions were waiting. And I loved every one.

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

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

I’m not listening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The truth is coming.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shamanika and the sky, Heaven’s Gate

A lot is happening. By a lot, I mean — a tail spin. The kind of carnival ride that makes you puke and grin at the same time. Wheee, I say. Hands free.

I’m moving to Vegas. I don’t know when, but I do know why. The end of the year is my goal – intention is clear, set, sent the universe, signed and sealed – yadda yadda.
Why?
Because Mom needs me. With Dad’s passing earlier this year, the hole she is trying to fill is too big for a solo effort. I have the light she’s seeking, and I’m selfish not to share. Plus, it’s a chance for me to escape the distractions of the familiar rut I’ve created and live a dream of sorts — to isolate myself, further my career, and get the second novel done — the one the Will Change Everything.

I am all kinds of faithful.

Here’s the kicker — Z isn’t coming with me. Talk about your bitter pills. I’ve been aching from it all, but now I see the gift. At long last. He’s on the enlightenment path — it’s who he is. And maybe it’s who I am too — I’m still finding that truth.
(OK, I know it’s my path too, I’m just not ready to fully OWN it yet. There, I said it.)
Anyway, I had the incredible honor of meeting his Ashram family and the omnipotent Guru. I had no context for this sort of experience – before Z, I had no idea what enlightenment really meant, or any experience with someone who had reached that state. Meeting Z’s Guru – it just changed everything. He’s the real thing; an absolute beacon of realness and service. I am still buzzing from the contact. And I realized, of course, that it’s where my love belongs. It’s what I love about him the most – this incredible path he’s found for himself. The greatness he is poised to achieve. I know he’s chasing the enlightenment dream not for himself, but for the elevation of us all. I am tearing up as I process this — there’s no greater gift. He is willing to give up EVERYthing just to help us cast off the shackles. If we all held this mentality, there would be no need to give up a thing.

We aren’t splitting up – quite the contrary. We’re stronger than ever. He’ll be in the OC, and then Maui, I will be in Vegas, and we are chucking the “It’ll never work” nonsense and creating the reality we believe in. An easy path, no, but ours all the same. We trust in the rewards. That’s all that matters.

And that’s just the beginning, as it were, but enough to gnaw on for now.

Let me just end by saying – mercy, I have missed you.

“I’m the fucking Buddha,
This is enlightenment.”
-Bjork

Bliss. Just. . .Bliss.

The Huachuma had sucked us all into the deepest recesses of our hearts, and we started our hike. I had no idea how long it would be, where we were headed, or how difficult the hike might appear, but I didn’t care. I had climbed Fire Mountain, I had taken on the energies of El Brujo, and I had looked into the eyes of God at Chavin. There was nothing unreachable, nothing I couldn’t achieve.

- Enlightenment.

The word rattled in my head as my feet fell, one before the other, in a steady stream behind my friends.

My boyfriend has experienced the true essence of enlightenment. The real deal. For over a week, he knew what is was like to be without resistance; to experience complete love, and nothing but. I heard his story initially and just fell awestruck; I hadn’t even known the meaning of the word before. I always imagined it was a Zen state of meditation; I really didn’t even know we could stay there, forever, if that was our dharma and desire.
Z is the one on the path of enlightenment. Why was this word echoing in my ears?

It wasn’t the first time, though — sitting on top of the life-giving huaca back at El Brujo, I was shown many visions. Z stood next to his former Guru, once again enlightened, and forever so this time. That made sense.
But the spirit whispered my potential too. She asked me to be open to my own greatness. I didn’t have to look up- I could just stand tall and know my heart too.

This time, as we walked, my hands trembled fearfully. This was a block even Huachuma couldn’t power through yet; I still couldn’t fathom it. I have issues with the word God, and all he represents, thanks to a difficult Catholic recovery. A familiar story. But that’s what I was asked to do, as I took in the majestic beauty of the most amazing place I’d ever seen – I was being asked to admit that I, and everyone else was God. That’s all we’re supposed to realize; there is absolutely no separation.
And if that was true…which I could agree too in spirit…
I was on the path to enlightenment. Me. The girl who once wore nothing but black and hissed at people who stared too hard. The girl so angry she could break walls and fists at times, and certainly no shortages of hearts.

We reached a space about 15 minutes up the mountain that felt like enlightenment should; bursting with love and lacking any fear or resistance. These amazing trees enveloped us, sporting several bright orange layers of bark, and a protective, energetic covering. We planted ourselves and found the deepest meditative state, collectively. We were helping each other ascend, and fall deeper into our hearts.
I couldn’t believe how easy it was….or how beautiful.

Suddenly, I started seeing myself back in that Peruvian hut; a lifetime ago, watching the world cave in. Watching myself be drowned in dirt as the earthquake that formed Heaven’s Gate killed 70,000 innocents. Jesus, why did this keep haunting me?

- Because you don’t believe.

I didn’t. I believed in past lives, almost completely, but this just seemed a tad too…convenient. How can it…?
There I go again, questioning divinity. It’s a bad habit.

We rose to keep walking once more, and about 5 minutes in, we all stopped to take in the view once again. It’s something we couldn’t seem to stop doing.

I plopped back-down on a nearby rock with V and we described the faces we were seeing in the rocks and clouds. Jaguars. Smiling clowns. Owls.
The usual.

Then I heard Howard say something. My hearing sucks, so I had no idea what the words were…I only knew I had to hear them.
I had an inkling, a little psychic thought — he was answering B’s question. He was telling us the date this Gate was formed. The day the killed 70,000 people and made Heaven on earth.
And I bet, I just bet…it’s on my birthday.

How did I freaking know this? What was making me think such things?

I sat up and raced over to Howard.

- Scuze me, what was that you were saying?

- Oh, well, B was asking when this whole thing happened.

- What date did you say?

- May 31st. May 31st, 1970.

My birthday is May 31st, 1975.
I lowered myself to the ground and placed my palms on her comforting firmness.
Oh. My. God.

I looked up at my Teacher with tear-streaks.

- Howard, that’s my birthday.

He grinned that trademark Chavin smile.

- Well then, two very important things happened on May 31st. Kitty was born, and Heaven was formed.

That was all I need to know – I, too, could be enlightened. And I died on this mountain once, just as I was finding Real Life again.

Me and Z, taking in the magnificent view.

We reached the top of the mountain after a long, treacherous climb. Flashes of the real world, and all it’s fear-filled consciousness, keep sneaking back into our sacred experience. Some of us were fretful about the condition of the bus. Some of us were feeling edgy, restless, and maybe a tad overwhelmed with the strength of it all, not to mention the finality. Our last dose together. Our last chance to let go and be real. To know our hearts just that much more.

At the top, a smattering of small buildings awaited, along with a beloved bathroom. We all bolted to our respective rooms, and I still held tight to my precious rock. I kept thinking about my best friends and tearing up. Jud and Aug and Nando and Gina and the Sacreds; people I would give my life for. I was infusing all these energies into the rock and clutched, hoping to grant them just a taste of what I had been blessed with. I was damn determined. I placed it all in the rock.

The bathroom was a mess. It was almost pitch dark, and in typical Peruvian fashion, didn’t have a toilet seat or a spec of paper. By now, we had remembered to plan ahead, but I stood in the stall staring into the black darkness, trying to remember how to unbutton my pants.
I think the whole process took about 15 minutes, but no one seemed to mind.

On my way out, I stopped at the ledge to look back down the mountain and take in the absolutely stunning view. P, an angelic female member of our posse–one that I hadn’t yet really connected to–stepped up beside me. I felt a jolt of familiarity rip through me, and I swung around to take her in.

- Oh my GOD.
She said, locking my gaze.

- The same? I mean, before?
I wasn’t making sense. But she understood.

- We’ve been here before.
She turned and grabbed my hands.
- We have, haven’t we? Right here. Taking in this view. We have!

I nodded in agreement; I was feeling the same trippy deja vu.
We clasped each other in a weighted, glorious silence and grinned stupidly.

- It doesn’t make sense, but there’s just no…

- Arguing it.

- Yes. Exactly.

It was such an absolute. Past lives were illuminated, and we felt infinitely bonded.
Just
Like
That.
Separation was no more.

We held hands and raced up the stone stairs, eager to rejoin our crew. But so freaking happy.

The entrance to Heaven’s Gate was just a short walk away. As we rounded the corner away from the buildings, everything came into view …
And by everything, I do mean *everything*.

It was mid-day, both cozy warm and crispy cold. Before us, the split mountain top stood, a giant chasm carved in the center. The 9.0 earthquake 37 years prior had split this majestic peak into 2, creating a mile-long crevasse where a gorgeous, deep green lagoon now stood. A few locals were riding a boat out into the center of it, and it appeared that they would disappear off the edge of the horizon. The water joined the two mountain peaks, creating on optical illusion; it really did look like we could walk off the planet and into heaven. The clouds touched down below the peaks, just out of reach, offering a ride to the top of the sky. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my whole life.

In the center of the lagoon, a concrete arrow was poured, connected to the shore. The arrow pointed toward heaven, and naturally, many of us wanted to be right there. Z and I bolted for the center of the object, and plopped down on our backs. I left my body and went hopping around the mountain tops and clouds, feeling protected and enlightened and so amazingly connected. I kept clutching my little rose quartz rock, talking to my best friends…telling them how beautiful life could be.
We make everything so difficult, I told the rock. All we have to do is let go and be love.

Z and I made eye contact, and I beamed my affections to him. He had been deeply reflective, and I knew what his next move would be. His large pyrite rock lay precariously in his hands; symbolic of his own power, and his resistance to his greatness. To prove he no longer wished to resist, he abruptly tossed the rock into the lagoon.

- I was waiting for you to do that.
I told him.
We shared a million words in one glance. It was magic.

I suddenly became keenly aware of my own rock, which had sat next to me on the concrete floor. I snatched it up and put it in a zippered pocket, as if to protect it from a certain dunking.

- Oh no you don’t. That’s for Judy. I can’t give it up.

Z gave me a knowing glance, and I fell back to my conversation with the water.

I lay on my belly and dangled my hands in the sea green liquids, asking for guidance. I was feeling a lot of conflict all of sudden; the Huachuma had gone full tilt. My eyesight seemed wacky, and I started to understand that I was diving farther in. My heart had released another layer.

I saw her – my best friend. I almost choked on the tears. I wanted her to have the same experience; to transcend along with me. I wanted it so bad I thought I would throw up. I was far too attached–I knew this. I knew that I had to let go. She had her own path to follow, and I had to respect the divinity, with or without a shared Journey.
Beyond that, I was told…well, there’s no need for symbolic gifts. I was asked to be the example of love I wanted for all of my friends, and none of that had to do with a rock.

I sat up quickly, grabbed my sacred stone, and tossed it with a dramatic plop.
Z nodded his approval.

- Judy doesn’t need a rock. She just needs you.

I squeezed his hand and agreed.

- Well, the mountain awaits.

We stood up a few moments later and joined the group. It was time to go on a hike, to tap into our creative cores and give one last shot at releasing all judgments, and merging with our divinities.

Some of the crystals for sale at the town near the base of Heaven’s Gate. I bought one of the sparkly pink ones for Best Friend Judy.

We stopped for a brief time at a little town nestled in a valley, right near the town’s square. We were all silly by then, looped up, vibrating, and wall-less. The bus halted outside an ice cream shop and we all sat, frozen and confused. Should we move? Talk? Get out? Stay forever?
Yes and yes.

Howard’s rallying cry lifted us into action.

We had 20 minutes. To shop, to buy water and chocolate, to ask the flowers the secret to their vibrant shades; whatever we needed. 20 minutes to lift off.

Z couldn’t move or function, so I had to give him my strength. He took it in spades, and we finally exited the bus. We headed for the street merchants; a whole scattering a lovely Peruvians, selling their various wares.

We saw some familiar bottles; these magnificent artistic carvings with gnomes and fantasy creatures emerging from the sides of the otherwise ordinary bottles. They spoke to us, but silently, and not strong enough to claim one as our own. We wandered the jewelry set-ups and clothing, bypassing a closer look.

Then we found the moving stones.

A kind woman at the end of the line had a line-up of rocks; and each one looked completely alive. I chose a rose quartz, Z picked a huge sparkling piece of gold fleck stone–we clutched them and sucked up the energies. I paid the modest fee and we triumphantly returned to the bus, rocks in tow.

- We’re going to the top of a mountain. There are hundreds of rocks up there.

Like it mattered. These were goddamn special.

Everyone slowly reassembled, and our chariot roared to life. Z and I both fell back into our headphones, and I consciously channeled my energies. I put every last powerful cell into my fingertips, merging with the divinities of my precious rock. I clutched the quarts so hard, specs pierced my flesh with tiny dotted markings. I loved her, my shiny rose memento. I loved her enough to give her away. I knew she’d be for J-Pie, my best best best best friend back in LaLa. My beacon of light. She deserved this.

The Sigur Ros tunes gave me a sense of infinite power, benevolent and holy. I swayed to the melodies, but over and over, I kept seeing the same image — I was standing in a tiny house, my eyes peering south through a miniscule square window. I was in a kitchen, cleaning dishes, absorbing the majestic blue beyond. Suddenly, I would hear a rumbling, and just as I turned to look, I was immediately buried in a wall of soil – and poof, I was gone.
Again and again, the skies rained the earth. Again and again, I perished, and rose again.

I understood the metaphor; we were about to pass over a burial ground; one formed 37 years prior by a 9.0 earthquake. The bodies of 70,000 innocents shivered beneath the tires. Their screams still muffled, their arms still outstretched.

Could I be one of them?

My mind still had a tiny echo inside; the remnants of my ego. She told me not to believe in past lives and such nonsense. She was trying to keep a grip.

But that didn’t last long. Before I knew it, Huachuma granted me another vision.

I saw Daniel Pearl. Daniel is the journalist who in 2000 was murdered by Pakistani militants. He was beheaded on video tape; a film that passed through millions of inboxes. Not mine, no; I couldn’t bare it, though my then-husband took the bait. Regretfully. Daniel, he always stayed close to me. I felt him the moment he was kidnapped, and I always maintained a connection.
And here he was once again, smiling before me. Why now? Why me?

That smile – it was so bloody familiar. I remembered quickly just how I knew it so well. There were photos that were shown during his kidnapped days, prior to his death; he had his hands shackled, his eyes blindfolded, and yet, he had a smile. This electric, divine, absolutely luminous smile. I knew I’d never forget it.
That was the first time I ever understood what it was to surrender to the Universe. The very first time. He was living the ultimate nightmare, and yet, he trusted. Even if he would lose his head, he trusted it would be beautiful.

I curled up on his smile and fell into the scenery. What did I have to surrender to?

- Everything, he told me.
- Everything, and nothing.

We reached our final pit stop just as he waved and disappeared.

A scene at Heaven’s Gate - those beautiful sky-kissing snow-capped mountains.

The next day, we loaded up our belongings and climbed the bus to Heaven.

We returned to a city we had passed through a few days before; a glorious place called Huaraz. This would be our home for the next 2 nights; the last stop on this cosmic journey. The next morning, we rose early, had the lightest of breakfasts, and started reveling in the bittersweetness of our last Mesa together. Once again, we had to assemble in Howard’s room to take our medicine, and there was such an incredible elation shared amongst us. Fearless and anxious, joyous and bonded, we buzzed and bounced as we waited our turn.

When Howard met my eyes, I exploded in light.

“Kitty,” he said simply. “Well, just look at you. Me-WOW.”

I giggled and MeWowed right back, then I dramatically slinked up to the Mesa and bowed on my knees. I didn’t even taste the foul elixir this time; I welcomed every last drop. Savored every element. This may be my last trip, so I needed to remember every piece.

God, we were so happy. As usual, we had little to no expectations, but all kinds of excitement. Heaven’s Gate was the destination…all we knew, historically, is that in 1970, a 9.0 earthquake ripped through this glorious section of the Andes, severing the mountain range in half. A lagoon sprung up in the center, and the most beautiful place on the planet was given life. The most beautiful. This, I promise.
But as this Mecca pushed through like a lifespring, 70,000 people perished below. A landslide wiped out 2 villages, and all that remains are the church steeples, poking through the soil. We were entering a burial ground. We were visiting Heaven on Earth.

The bus came around to gather us, and already…already I fell into the zone. There weren’t as many barriers the Huachuma had to push through these days; my heart was so hungry for more knowledge, for more life and love, that just the thought of our ceremony sent me into a sacred space. This was what I had to bring home with me; the ability to find such divinity, without the aid of the medicine. I grabbed a hold of the power and made friends.

Z and I sat in silence as the bus started climbing. We had 2 hours of treacherous, dirt road to embrace, along with a 5,000 foot climb – all the way up to 14,000 feet. Most of us brought along our MP3 players; the right music helps you transcend even higher.

I looked over at Z and saw the most intense, light-pouring expression. I tapped him on the shoulder to learn more.

“Whatcha listening to, baby?”

“My enlightenment experience.”

“Oh, heh, that.”

And then I surveyed my scene; one of those snapshots that we take stock of at larger-than-life moments.

I was on a bus, headed to a mystical burial ground were yet another transformation awaited. Deep in the Peruvian Andes, having the journey I always dreamt of…next to the partner who would slay dragons for me. Someone who already knew what it meant to be enlightened. Someone I could rise to meet, on a pedestal higher than our minds can comprehend. I saw the fellow travelers; everyone’s head chakras were bursting with light. I waved to Howard and smiled, bouncing along as the bus hit potholes and rocks. I would never know this moment again.

“Howard, the road to heaven is goddamn bumpy.”

He laughed and gave me a thumbs up.

“We wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I fell back into my chair, put on a little Sigur Ros, and awaited my unfolding mystery.

The only remaining head at the Temple of the Jaguar that is still intact - he’s The Greeter, so it’s rather fitting.

I walked with V, and rested my head on hers.

- Is it over yet? she asked.

I laughed and shrugged.

- You know what I’m going to say, I replied.

- Yes, I suppose. It’s just beginning.

The street we waltzed down was littered with little shop lights. Paved and peaceful, car-less and perfect. Peruvians swept sidewalks and scampered home for dinner. Children chased tires and watched us with curiosity as we all meandered past.

The little Chavin street felt like a stairway of judgment. Not in a negative sense; but oh so symbolic. Every step felt heavy and purposeful; I started feeling the weight return to my body. No longer able to fly, I was attaching to my awesome responsibility. Jesus, I have so much world to change. At least I knew I was capable.

We walked the hotel stairs in silence, all of us wondering what could possibly be next. Of all my previous Huachuma doses, this was by far the most potent. I couldn’t complete a thought, nor a sentence. I couldn’t remember my demons, my faults – nothing tangible sprang to mind. Just the need to hug Z, feel the earth, and get back to that beautiful mesa.

We deposited our packs in our rooms, then drew, one by one, back into Howard’s room. The mesa – our portal of sacred objects – awaited us, just as we had left it, some six hours prior. Candles lit the tiny space, and we hovered around the energies. The mesa covered one twin bed in the center; two more empty beds sat to the sides. I plopped down on the female life-giving side, staking my claim. I couldn’t stop staring at the jaguar skull – he kept turning to stare at me too.

Someone asked me to move the candle. I heard, but couldn’t bring myself to respond. I ducked shyly, trying to avoid any contact, any conversation, as I felt completely and utterly useless. Move a candle? How would I carry it? Where would I put it? No, it just wasn’t possible.

I shrugged, and everyone laughed.

The energy in the room was electric. We were coming down, yes, but there were hours more to go. People started scrambling onto the beds, falling into piles of entwined bodies. We were fully clothed, mind you – nothing you couldn’t tell mom. Except the fact that none of us could remember what “Sober” was like; and frankly, we never would again.

I finally found the strength to move three feet back, and fell onto the welcoming bed. D was there, my spirit-brother — he’s the one responsible for the beautiful pictures attached to each posting here. N was there too; the most fiery, gorgeous girl in our crew; she’s Bulgarian, and every time she said “Baby” in that thick, eastern european accent, I wanted to purr right back. This night, I actually did.

N and I floated our hands above our eyes, intertwining each in various poses, and laughing at our amazing creations. Movement was mesmerizing; you could see how just one flick of your hand mixes up the energies in the air. You can see how beautiful your body is. Everything just looked…like god.

I have no idea how long I lay there. Z joined us eventually, first standing beside the alter, than crashing into our welcoming pile. C came around as well; nervous as he was to be in his heart, to just release. N pulled him in with a big hug, and he collapsed in gratefulness. This, too, was so beautiful to see.

On the other side of the room, bizarre, nonsensical sentences would flash out of nowhere, and people would laugh.

- Worth the price of admission!

- Holy crap, holy grail!

- Now that’s what I call a rock!

- Are ya feelin’ it!

We had no words to describe our bliss, our mind-numbing one-ness, but we kept trying.

My body, she definitely put up a fight. I felt the insanely strong medicine seething through every pore, swishing around in my blood cells and making me feel hot/cold/hot/cold shivvery. My hands appeared purplish and pale in the moonlight, but thankfully, my heart thumped along at a perfectly normal rate. I knew I was OK. I just felt so much *change* inside. Love will do that to you.

Eventually, NZ threw on some of his trademark, bizarre-sounding electronic tracks. I thought they sounded demonic, just like at Fire Mountain, but I still grinned on through. There was no such thing as fear. Even if the devil himself (non-existent though he is) appeared before me, all I would have for him was a hug.

I could tell Z was not digging on the music, and within 15 minutes or so, I finally found my voice.

- Do you want to leave, baby?

- Yesterday.

I took that as a yes.

We found our feet, stumbled past our unresponsive friends, and made our way to our private room. We were up for hours more, pouring through the day’s pictures, telling magic tales, exploring our brand new bodies, and finding how deep our hearts could be.

To say it was magical – well, I can’t say that, because it was way beyond a bag of tricks. This was THE universal secret. The holy grail was inside us all along.

Even still, there was another ceremony to look forward to … Heaven’s Gate was calling.