What I learned after five days of drinking ayahuasca: Part one

I could see the light from the flames of the campfire from behind my eyelids. I rocked back and forth, opening them periodically, to try to gather how long it would be until it was time to enter the Inipi – a traditional Native American sweat lodge. I focused on my breath and contemplated whether there was a chance I still needed to purge, scanning for a rogue bucket as I hadn’t brought mine down to the Inipi. There wasn’t. “Oh well, hopefully, I’m done by now,” I thought.

I was sitting cross-legged on the grass, surrounded by the chatter of everyone else trickling in and deconstructing what on earth had just happened in the last six hours. I, however, was in no place to involve myself in these conversations. I tried not to think about how much longer I was going to be in the chuma (trip), and did my best to exert the patience I’d been taught over the previous four days.

After a while, it was my turn to go up and receive the limpieza from Madre Lorena. Madre Lorena is the Inipi shaman, and prior to entering the painstakingly-constructed sweat lodge, she conducted an individual ritualistic cleansing on each person. This, however, required me to stand up. And walk. Next to a fire. “If you can get through the last six hours, you can get up and do this,” I thought to myself. I slowly arose and ungracefully stumbled over to the limpieza spot, where I told Lorena that I was still deep in the chuma. 

She performed the cleansing, and Catalina helped me back to where I had been sitting. After a while, we stood up again to salute the four cardinal points, north, south, east, and west. Madre Lorena sang the traditional songs, and it was time to enter the Inipi. On our hands and knees, in we went, all 35 of us.

Getting to know the medicine

Why on earth was I putting myself through all of this?

This five-day retreat wasn’t the first time I was drinking ayahuasca, or yagé, as it is known in Colombia (for information on what the difference is, check out this article I wrote for Psychable). I first tried ayahuasca in October of 2019. A group of friends and I took part in a single Saturday night ceremony in a spot called Ambiwasi in Santa Elena, around an hour outside of Medellin. The funny thing is that we all actually worked together at the time and it became workplace knowledge, so going back into the office on Monday morning, I was met with a flurry of questions from coworkers about how it went.

“I feel like I dipped my toes in,” was my answer. The journey had certainly been psychedelic, and uncomfortable at times, but by no means was I transcending this reality and puking my guts out. I was crazy nervous to drink for the first time, and I think the medicine knew that, so she treated me gently. Following that, I drank ayahuasca five more times over a period of around a year and half. The last ceremony before the retreat, in February of this year, was the most intense and transformative I’d had yet. I spent what felt like hours (in reality it was probably less than an hour, the medicine can distort your perception of time like that) in childs pose, hurling into my bucket, flooded with your typical DMT-esque shining colours and moving fractals. On top of the physical and hallucinogenic intensity, I received a number of very clear, actionable takeaways from the medicine. I’m not going to say that this was the reason I quit my job one month later, but I can’t deny that there was no relation. The medicine showed me how much I carry stress in my body and how I needed to take actions that would allow me to let it go.

Art: Alex Gray

Fast-forward to April, and I heard about the retreat at La Ceiba, a beautiful ayahuasca healing center in Girardota, around 45 minutes away from Medellin. The center is owned by Keenan Lee and Daniela Villa, a Canadian-Colombian couple who have been hosting plant medicine ceremonies at their home for more than five years. I’d drunk at La Ceiba’s public ceremonies before, but had never built up the courage to commit to a full retreat. Now, I knew the time was right.

After my last experience, I knew I wanted to keep going and deepen my relationship with yagé. Not to mention, I’d been getting to know the medicine through my writing too, and felt it was the perfect time to return to learn more from her. I texted Keenan and he told me there were two spots left. Without a second’s consideration, I responded: “Alright, I’m in.”

Connect, learn, purge

After some protest-related delays on the way out of Medellin (for info on why people have been protesting for months in Colombia, read this article), we arrived at La Ceiba at around 9pm on a Wednesday evening. I was received with a warm hug from Catalina and welcoming, excited smiles from the rest of the participants. I joined them as they chatted casually around the dinner table, and started to get to know my fellow journeyers. Connecting with others on this path has become a hugely important part of my journey, and I had a feeling we were going to get to know each other very well over the coming days.

After a few hours of socialising with others and getting settled in, we gathered around the fire to share some sacred medicines (rapé, mambe, and ambil) and talk about our intentions for the coming ceremonies. As people shared their struggles, goals, and what led them to the retreat, a thick energy of empathy, attentiveness and support from the rest of the group filled the air. Opening up about why you’ve chosen to drink ayahuasca in front of a bunch of people you met two hours prior can be intimidating, but in this setting, it somehow felt like the most natural thing we could have done. I spoke about my writing and how I wanted to get to know the medicine better, on a deeper level. I hoped she’d guide me forward on the path that I’m currently on, and explained how, ultimately, I was there to learn – however that might be.

During the circle, Keenan said something that really stuck with me. It was something along the lines of, “People who don’t feel many strong effects may think that they haven’t gained any insights. But that’s not true, no matter how mild the experience, you are always receiving information.” I had certainly made that mistake with some of my previous ceremonies, comparing my experiences to those of others and feeling almost jealous that I hadn’t been catapulted into a different universe like they had. However, looking back, I learned a great deal from those ceremonies. I realized, and would later understand even more deeply, that that’s exactly how it had to go for me. There is no value in comparing your experience to that of others, as you will always get exactly what you need. So why would you want anything else?

After the circle, I chatted to a few more people before heading to bed. The following day was going to be a big one, and I wanted to feel rested and prepared.

I woke up the next day feeling nervous but excited. We were to undergo a number of different therapies before the first yagé ceremony that night, beginning with the tobacco water purge. Judging by its name, you can probably guess what it entails. We were to drink a total of three litres of hot tobacco water (water which had been boiled with tobacco leaves), with the idea being to drink it so fast that it immediately comes back up again. However, this is much easier said than done, especially given that the jugs of water handed to us are still scolding hot.

La Ceiba Ayahuasca Healing Center, Girardota, Colombia

Litre by litre, I got them down. I made the mistake of not cooling the first litre down enough, hindering my ability to chug the brown liquid as if I was back at uni pre drinks. I drank too slow, and the water stayed put. I cooled the next litre down considerably more, and was able to get that down much quicker. Up it all came, pretty smoothly. I immediately felt a rush of clarity wash over me. Two down, one to go. Despite adopting the same technique for the final litre, I didn’t purge. Uh oh, I knew this wasn’t going to be comfortable. The nausea got gradually worse, and after around an hour, I was given a litre of hot plain water to chug once again. Thankfully it worked, and I was able to get the remainder out and enjoy the post-purge effects. I felt present, centred, and ready for the rest of the day.

Next up was the stinging nettle (ortiga) therapy. First, we had to spend around 20 minutes crouched on a stool in what can only be described as little stone eggs with a pan of steaming hot water, filled with aroma-releasing herbs and plants. After that, we were washed with tea and were told to sit and dry by the fire before the ortiga therapy. This involved being lightly hit with a thorny branch and nettles over our entire bodies. While uncomfortable and slightly painful at parts, I reminded myself of the medicinal values of the ortiga and the purpose behind the therapy.

As the evening approached, we showered and got ready for the ceremony, forgoing dinner to make sure our stomachs were empty when we drank the yagé. Every place I have drunk yagé has worked to a different schedule: while some places will pour the medicine at 9.30 pm, others may do so around midnight, or somewhere in between. Working to Taita Jeronimo’s schedule, we didn’t start the ceremony until around 2.30 am. We each went up to drink, one by one, and headed back to our mats to nervously wait for it to kick in.

To be continued.