I have no business blogging right now.  I’m riding on very little sleep, working insane hours to get a product launched (ZuCamp, if you care to spy), and I have a glass of bubbly in me, so I’m saucy. Indeed.  It’s a little insane how much I’ve taking on lately – June is shaping up to be Crazy and Mad As Hell month.  That’s a grand set of circumstances to test my surrender abilities, and all this “it’s not real, remember who you are” revelations. Yummy.  BRING IT.

Next week, after another Earth Medicine Apprentice weekend, I’m headed to LA with Orion.  Our visit has many reasons, but at the heart of it all, we are going to see his brother Zen.  Zen is deeply immersed in round 3 of lymphoma.  He first contracted the disease at age 19.  He thought he beat it, but it came back a few years later, at the prime of his newfound adult freedom, and it really kicked his ass.  He subsequently developed various drug addictions, and hit that dreaded downward spiral.  Somehow he rebounded, found a fantastic wife, beat the cancer yet again, and settled in for the rest of his life.  Then a month or two back, the cancer returned – more vicious than ever.  It almost took him from us in the early onset – white blood cells tanked, body temp skyrocketed – a death recipe if ever there was one.  But Zen is a fighter, clearly, and he came through again.  Thanks in part to all the incredible healers and prayer-minded powerhouses we employed to get him through.

Zen is currently receiving chemo directly into his spine.  He’s in crazy pain, hazed by all the medication and madness, and really dying to *heal*.  He wants to live, he’s willing to look at why he manifested this illness to begin with, and as such, I have stepped in to help in any way I can as well.  I can’t tell you what this means to me.  I haven’t even met Zen yet – we’ll do the honors next week.  But I have connected with him – deeply, profoundly, infinitely.  He’s Orion’s brother, for Divinity’s sake – it doesn’t get more sacred to me.  Zen allowed me to do some shamanic journeying work for him, and it took me just a few minutes of deep meditation to find his spirit animal and his cosmic energies.  I burst into tears at the meeting actually, because I felt him so profoundly, and I just loved the being I discovered.  Zen is a Libra, to the core, and they, along with Aquarians, are my absolutely favorites.  I saw Zen at age 18, before he ever knew that cancer would be his demon.  He was so devilish and sweet, so vibrant and funny and just balls-out nutty.  And as I meditated with Wolf, his power animal, and this image of Zen, I felt those parts of him that had never changed.  The awareness that still oozed mischief and playfulness.  In those moments, I knew that he could beat this, if he wanted to.  And I promised to do everything I could to help him get there.

Up until these moments, I have been shy about any healing abilities I may or may not have.  Hell, I still am.  I lay no claims to super powers.  I only know I’m a vessel, and that I *want* to be of service in this way.  It seems that’s all it really takes – declare to the universe that you’d like to help heal, and you will find a way to make it so, if your sincerity is unbreakable.  Ever since I was a child, I wanted to help.  At first, it was to be as a psychiatrist, then a neurologist.  Eventually, I gave up to “professional” aspirations and just acknowledged that it was enough to be the friend you could call at 3 AM and spill your guts too.  Later on, as I discovered Ayahuasca, I thought she would only help me heal myself.  But Aya and San Pedro / Huachuma have shown me a different path.  This is my way to service.  Humility, although an absolutely Godly treat, need not be the only focus when one is ready to heal.  I have been hiding behind an “I’m not ready” veil.  But tell that to someone whose hourglass is dribbling down to the last grains of sand.  Zen needs help, and he doesn’t have time for my modesty.  And so I’m so honored to just step it up and say – OK, let’s do this.  Let’s heal.  I don’t do the work anyway.  I just open myself up to be the vessel.  The best healers get the hell out of the way from word one.  That’s my only job, really, and I can do this now.  For Zen, for Orion – for the Greater Good.  Nothing like jumping into the fire, eh?

When I visit Zen next week, I have in mind some radical approaches, should he be willing.  I should say, should I be willing.  I’m still a little freaked out by taking ownership of this, as the stakes. . .couldn’t be higher.  But I keep seeing visions of how I can help Zen help himself, and who am I to hide behind my fear of inadequacy, when someone just wants to live?  I will have employed all my healing partners-in-crime by then, with advice and support beyond measure.  Zen himself wrote me today and said he’s ready for a miracle, that he needs all the super powers Orion and I can muster.  It’s like Aya has been preparing me for such things since the very first sip.  Is anyone ever really ready for such do or die moments?  Likely not.  I’ll do what I have to, with tears of gratitude to boot.

In the middle of all this, I’m also moving into a new home – along with Orion and Hijo.  A marvelous home, with a lush plant-filled back yard and pool.  Orion and I are riding out yet another foreclosure home – this one belonging to my angel ex-boss – we’ll live there until the bank kicks us out.  Then there’s the chiropractor – seeing a new doc (Badger, his actual last name) several times a week to try and fix this years-long wretched pain, and really abnormal spinal curvatures.  It seems like every adjustment stirs up more emotional shit too – like there’s an ocean of things that have been laying dormant inside those disks and nerves, and every crack sends more to the surface.  The Apprenticeship will no doubt be intensely interesting, and this work launch is completely annihilating.  But it’s all so, so glorious.  I have regular moments of staggering clarity.  I’m laughing all the time about the cosmic joke of separation.  I’m feeling immense connections to those I love, those I like, those I dislike – everything everything.  These are amazing times.

I would be lying if I said I was unattached to Zen’s survival, though, and that’s something I’m looking at with a very clear mirror.  Do I want him to live because suddenly I’m involved?  Yes, I suspect that’s part of it – I want to feel like I have some purpose in these spaces, some actual abilities.  That it’s not just my head thinking she’s something something.  Ego is always there, and I see her for what she is.  But I also connected so strongly with how much life this man has left to live.  It doesn’t have to be his time – I know this unequivocally.  He can change his story, with hard work, integrity, and openness.  And what an incredible, immense, beautiful gift that I can carry – the chance to shine a little light.  He has to do the work, not me.  And yet, he is me.  I feel him and I feel our mutual essences.  Zen shows me the parts of me that are both decaying and dying, and dying to live.  These are the money shots in life.  The chances to see the real Truth of what is.  Whatever happens, I know I won’t be looking away.  It’s the kind of challenge I’ve built my life upon.  Heart – stay open, alert, alive.  In those feeling spaces.  I’ll need every tear and every truth I can find.

“Is it real this infusion
Can it heal where others before have failed?
If so then somebody
Shake shake shake me sane
’cause I am inching ever closer to the tip of this scorpion’s tail”

- Tori Amos

If you’re reading this, you probably already have a pretty good notion about what aspects of shamanism this blog tends to focus on.  That would be the sacred plants.  As most of you know, in April of 2006, I embarked on a a journey of a lifetime that landed me in the Peruvian Amazon.  I was blessed enough to find myself working with two master shamans, and after three Ayahuasca ceremonies, I was literally reborn.  I would later discover a true affinity for Huachuma ceremonies as well, and can easily point to these experiences as part of the core reasons I am a beaming, vibrant, genuine, enlightenment-chasing love-cat.

I am not alone in these awakenings.  Many, many souls over literally *centuries* of shamanic work have found true healing and connection with the all by working with the plants.  But shamanism isn’t limited to ceremonial, ritualistic plant-work.  The word “shaman” itself means “one who sees in the dark”.  This does not imply that plants are the only means by which we can truly see.  I’m not expert in this field, but the more that I discover, the more I realize – wow, there is no “core shamanism” (despite the arguments of Michael Harner).  No, shamanism is as personal as we are.  Although dozens of cultures have embraced the practice of shamanism almost since the beginning of Earth-life, there are very few golden threads.  In that short list exists a connection with nature, a recognition that the reality we experience is not *the* reality, and that, simply put, there is more to this world than meets the eye.

These days, most who find their way into an Ayahuasca ceremony do in fact achieve immense healing and onion-peeling beauty.  That said, most do not suddenly dive headfirst into a love affair with shamanism itself.  This is where I differed – an extension to my life path that still leaves me awed.  I was a corporate executive on the path to world domination, living the grand LA life and doing it all in designer threads.  How could I have known that I was destined to be “one who sees in the dark?”

You know how when you go into a pet store or a shelter with the intention of finding your dream pet, they in fact choose you?  How that Cocker you had your eye on just up and ignores you, while the French Bulldog is proposing puppy-marriage, and shocks with you a heart-melt?  That’s what shamanism did to me.  She fully and completely seduced me, without any understanding on my part as to why.  I had my healings, I reaped the benefits (and could continue to do so) – but why the continued interest in *being one*?

However it transpired, in the immortal words of the alien squeakie from Toy Story, “I have been chosen!”  And since that realization, I have naively supposed that all things shamanism must in fact be gravy.  In the highest sense, this has been the case, but I’ve been blessed to narrow the field as of late, and find a more focused frequency for me to dance to.  At the same time, horizons have dramatically broadened.

A few weeks ago, I attended a weekend seminar from the Foundation of Shamanic Studies.  This foundation is headed up by Michael Harner, an esteemed PHD who has attempted to condense all shamanic cultures into the aforementioned “core” groupings.  This intrigued me.  It’s very Western in its approach – sort of a “one size fits all” methodology, by no means aiming to dilute the complexities of shamanism across the planet, but instead finding those golden threads.  I learned all about journeying, power animals, divination, drumming – all kinds of yummy aspects of this tribal, connected world.  And make no mistake, I *loved* these processes, and resonated with many very deeply.  I did not care for my instructor on any fashion, however, as I felt a serious disconnect.  This “core shamanism” structure seemed to accomplish the exact opposite of its expressed intention.  Instead of celebrating this practice, it instead felt watered down and almost powerless.  And more poignantly, there was a definite dismissal of any “niches” in the traditions.  Perhaps this is because there is a fear of legality, or just done out of necessity (the classes are short and you can’t talk about it *all*), but I felt a serious judgment of *my* branch of shamanism, and I find this wonderfully ironic.  I used this perceived judgment to find the truth within – looking at my mirror, reflecting back the resistance to plant-work, I found the space within that still had judgment herself.  I talked with her, I listened to her, and I found it was just a fear of being ego-less, of being who I really am.  Having uncovered this, I gleefully powered on.

Coming out of the experience, a fire was once again blazing within.  I had all kinds of new tools in my arsenal – tools I have been using ever since.  I journey regularly (a form of meditation – the shamans were the first meditators, and I adore this process immensely) now, communing with my awesome power animal (a jaguar named Satcha that I met in my very first Ayahuasca ceremony).  I feel much more whole and complete as a shamanic practitioner, and am even interested in having my own healing center using these methods some day.  More timely, however, I remembered who *I* am in the shamanic spaces – I am a plant healer.  There will be no more pretending.

In the weeks since, I have gone full scale in finding my next teachers in these spaces.  My purpose is twofold – first, I’m focused on finding an accomplished healer that will work with my fabulous desert friends.  There are many of us now here in this community that have either had remarkable results with this process, or are ready to dive into these intense and powerful realms.  Nothing makes me happier than to watch healing unfold, and to play my role in helping to facilitate these transformations.  I have since found several potential healers, and the logistics are underway.  All thanks to an intuitive tip from Guru Pranananda.  This domino effect has been magical – put your focus on something, and holy catnip does it ever light-up.

Most surprisingly, I uncovered the exact teacher I have been passively, and now actively, searching for since I found this path.  I’ve been on the lookout for an apprenticeship of sorts, but really unsure about how that would look.  I figured I’d find a traditional plant-healer that was willing to work with me in various capacities, and that would be that.  But by declaring my intention and then *detaching* from the exact results. . .I found so, so much more.

Through a remarkable email thread, I landed in the inbox of a woman named Julie McIntyre.  She’s an accomplished healer and shaman, with a vast array of expertise.  And as luck would have it, she is starting an apprenticeship for a few select individuals *this very weekend*.  It’s an 8 month program called an Earth Medicine Apprenticeship.  She will be teaching us all kinds of esoteric, magical shamanic intricacies, such as using the heart as an organ of perception, engaging the fruitful darkness (something she calls “Eating the Shadow”), and of course plant identification and medicine-making, Earth-style.  She sealed the deal for me when she stated simply that the states of mind I reach in an Ayahuasca ceremony are reachable without a drop of the brew, and she can help me get there.

Since my first sip of Ayahuasca, I have continuously stated that that is the ultimate goal – to access those spaces without the need for the plants.  Aya has served as a memory of sorts for me (and thousands of others) – taking us into our true power, beyond the limitations of the “normal” conscious state.  There was simply no way I could pass up this opportunity.  So,  I will be making the 10 hour one-way trek to New Mexico once a month for the rest of this year, juggling an insane schedule and taking a huge leap of faith to go deeper into these mysterious worlds.  I am overjoyed, a little freaked out, and totally energized.  I feel the power of Ayahuasca within me, as I always do, but she herself is directly guiding me to this experience.  It’s interesting, as I am no longer an externally focused being – I fully accept that everything manifested in my world comes directly from within.  That said, there are people, spirits and invisibles that I have manifested to work with me, in order to transcend the idea of separation.  Ayahuasca is one such powerhouse.  And so I will follow her, into the dark, the light, and everything in between.  This is one of those mysterious chapters – what will come of this adventure?  What exactly will I find?  Stay tuned, as I will no doubt reveal all to the glorious blogosphere.  Until then, besos!

Next time, let’s talk Tantra, shall we?

Click to Listen

I was recently featured on a local radio show, yapping away about shamanism, ayahuasca, huachuma / san pedro, and  liberation. Take a listen at MetaMysticRadio.com – choose the December 16th interview with Kitty.  I actually think it went super well – CJ is a great informal interviewer and we had a ball.

In other news. . .

Yay for holidaze – especially since Orion will likely actually be here, a rarity for an on-call pilot.  Sounds like I get serious family time, which makes me all a-flutter.  I still have such easy access to the childish bliss associated with presents and cookies and seeing other lovees glow.  I can’t wait to see Hijo open the presents I corralled for him – my first year to spoil a child, and I took full advantage.  

I can’t help but be nostalgic.  Not for what’s been lost in the last year, but what’s been found.  Love like no other, a gaggle of incredibly bonded and spiritually connected Vegas friends, and a *stepson* for crying out loud.  Who would have guessed?  Certainly not me.  But the treasures of the last year have taught me to let go of any “me” notions, and let the universe have her way.  My way would have meant a lack of vulnerability and certainly no mommy roles.  My way was clearly far too limited.

If I had to give the year a word, I’d call it Paradoxical.  I systematically dropped just about every known belief structure, chucking out the validity of everything from aliens to egos.  And then picked them all up again in all their glorious unreal-realism.  I’ve come to know the world as a dream, but one I have full manifested control over, yet can’t control at all.  How come both be true?  Because they are.  It just is, and I love it.  Welcome to duality.  But try on non-dualism while you’re at it.

I’m going to embark on a huachuma ceremony later today, with the intention to drop all notions of myself completely.  Huachuma is the ultimate illuminator – capable of lifting the veil of illusion and showing those who walk through his portal what really is.  ”I” will choke down a few mugs of this not-so-condensed putrid plant and welcome his wisdom so deep within, I become nothing.  And in that space, “I” will find . . .whatever is waiting.  The I within wants to know the highest way to work with him as well – how to best integrate his dream-like lessons in this dream-filled world.  And I think I’ll visit Jesus too, maybe bring him in a birthday card.  We can celebrate the un-ness of everything.  Oh, irony.

And that’s about the extent of my current profundity – not much more relevatory than a James Cameron film, I know.  This is stage one of today’s big clearing-out process.

“Love / Is watching / someone die”  - Death Cab

As we noodle down the treacherous and oft overwhelming path ala enlightenment, many of us pound our heads against spiky walls out of sheer paradoxical frustration.  It seems every luminous enlightenment being speaks a different language.  Sometimes it feels like no one is really pointing at the same moon – that this is all a crazy game with no real ending.  That there is no such thing as realization at all.

And yet, when dropping the logical constructs of the mind, there is more than just a something there, drawing me into its womb-like clutches.  What is it, really?  I don’t know.  But I’m learning one alarmingly simple yet devastatingly challenging way to get there.  I have a lot of wise teachers feeding me equal doses and beauty and bullshit, and in their cryptically direct banter, I’ve found one radiant consistency.  Mac said it this weekend, and I’ve heard Pi and Pranananda say pretty much the same thing – whatever (or whomever) you choose to get you there, it doesn’t matter.  Just surrender.  Completely.

Just.  Surrender.  Hah.  Just like I (think) I know what enlightenment is not, I’ve uncovered a million ways / reasons / opportunities to *not* surrender.  I have never fully surrendered to a lover.  I never surrendered to authority of any kind – parental, priestly, etc.  Ayahuasca, though she’s given me no reason not to, has never felt me hand it *all* over to her.  There’s always a shred or more held back – just in case.  To keep the illusion of control.  To have a tether into this world, into my mind, in case this is all just a load of baloney and I give away everything – thoughts, heart, breath, life – for a naive, selfish notion that there’s something more.

But here’s the rub.  I have been granted a whole gaggle of spiritual experiences.  Ayahuasca has shown me the primal energies from which I came from – the golden threads that lead all the way back to the beautiful nothingness.  Huachuma showed me my true God reflection in the face of a sacred stone in Peru.  I have *almost* dropped the “i” now on several occasions, becoming the all – and feeling what it is to be the movie, the projector, the observers and the space in between all three.  And no matter how strong my ego becomes, no matter how much that uncertainty wants to scream out her cautions – I don’t believe them.  I don’t believe much of anything anymore.  But I do know there’s more beyond what “I” know.  

I can’t stop what’s coming.  It’s inconceivable to me to go back to the unconscious self.  I’m not really in the state of seeking, but I sense with an insatiable magnetism that there is more to know.  I travel deep into my heart space an unequivocally realize there’s nothing else for me but this.  Not awakening itself, necessarily. but the walk to greet her.  The willingness to own my divinity.

Mac told us last week to stop calling this enlightenment – to hold it as liberation instead.  This facilitated a great shift in me later that week – I came to know in every cell that absolutely nothing about me has to change in order to awaken.  Nothing.  I don’t have to be less egoic or more pious and meditate 20 hours a day or eat raw vegetables with unsoiled hands.  There is nothing I have to do or be, because nothing about me dictates this liberation.  It was a massive relief, a huge opening that allowed me to feel whole and complete.  I could have hugged myself.  Instead, I stared at my reflection in Orion’s beautiful eyes and felt the truth.  This is who we are.  And it’s in those eyes that I found a key.

This game is all about surrender.  And while I understand it doesn’t matter what you surrender to, as long as you do it completely, I realize my mind isn’t going to accept just any authoritative illusion.  I intend to work on surrendering to everything and everyone in every moment, but in order to amp up the game, I’ve chosen two very specific targets.

One is obvious – ayahuasca.  I’ve danced with her almost 2 dozen times now, and I know we have more time to know each other.  I can conceive of a complete willingness to surrender to her chaotic yet nurturing strength.  But those opportunities are scarce – a few times a year or so.  Still, I feel in my heart she can take me there.  I know that *anything* can, it’s just that I feel I can convince my mind to give me one minute of freedom – to hold her breath, and that of my body, and surrender to death by the vine, in order to let light in.  Yes, we can do that.

The other is, in many ways, far more terrifying.  I’m in tears just feeling the very real willingness, and the very real fear – the former from heart, the latter from mind.  I will surrender to Orion.  Not him as a human, per se – as an unreal ego – but as my connection to Shiva.  I can’t remember a single time in the last (almost) year that I’ve known him where I’ve been able to see anything but his greatness.  I have never known a more pure and unconditional love.  I trust his intention, I trust his own connection to divinity – and so, I can’t shy away.  We’ve started practicing tantra together – a very respected yogic path to enlightenment – and I feel as though. . .well, we’re on to something.  It’s both thrilling and horrific.  Whee.

Kat – the name I have for my little egoic self – is so fucking scared of this.  But in a moment of incredible clarity this weekend, I was able to pacify her long enough to open a huge portal for us.  I gave him complete freedom to be who he is.  I dropped the restrictions previously agreed upon in our bond, with respect to sexuality, and asked him to just be.  Integrity is still integral, but rules no longer apply.  And although I shake at times when I realize what this could mean, I also know that this is part of my divine surrender.  I trust the universe (me) to manifest the best possible outcome for us both.  But if I tell God I want it my way only, there’s nothing else He / She / We can do but give it to way I demand.  I’m past that now.  In this relationship, I will not be ruled by fear.

So there I’ve done it – dropped all sense of security and yet, at the same time, promised to throw my all into surrendering to this, my partner and love – the God that he is, and the God that I can allow him to show me.  Kat is so fearful she’s barely uttered a protest.  It’s paralyzing and beautiful.  There’s such a rightness to this act that I feel a glow inside, way deeper than any perceived tremble.  

I want and deserve my pot of gold, should the universe see fit.  And I’m showing Her I’m willing to drop *all* attachments to awaken.  I guess that’s why they call it liberation.  Just the act of doing so makes me feel so much closer.

Calling for my soul / At the / Corners of the world – (Tori Amos)

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.

No, it’s not just you – the blog has been on hiatus and unaccessible.  I made a few changes (new WordPress installation so that I may be omnipotent) but have been woeful about getting it back up to speed.  Apologies for the absence.  Not like it’s been too much of a depravation.  Right?  Don’t answer that.  

Hi there.  

I re-connected the other day with a wild child I met in the jungle on both my first and second trips to the Amazon.  He’s completely immersed in the plants now, and graciously invited Orion and I to visit him in Florida for Huachuma ceremonies.  I am so ready to deepen my relationship with San Pedro.  Ayahuasca herself has revealed my affinity for the grandfather wisdom, and I see myself facilitating ceremonies with the brew in the very near future.  The neurons are firing over the possibilities.  I am ecstatic at the future Ayahuasca adventures.  Today is the kind of day where I can’t stop saying thank you for the chance to go so far beyond my ego with the beautiful ancient practices.  I can feel in my bones the excitement I have to look forward to.  A golden thread in a sea of invisible tethers – I will be liberated.

More, soon – when things are back in digital order.  Until then, may all your moments be enlightening.

“When shall I be free?
When I shall cease to be.
No more I, but we…
In perfect harmony.”

- Shpongle

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.