What I learned after five days of drinking ayahuasca: Part two
The medicine’s effects were gradual. First came the nausea, which sat with me for what felt like a few hours. I didn’t experience any intense visuals. I did, however, connect with the medicine on a very emotional level. The medicine music only heightened this, as the musicians’ powerful lyrics and rhythmic beats filled the air. I would discover that the music would play a very guiding role in each of my ceremonies.
I went to sit by the fire to try to purge. Catalina accompanied me, providing a soothing presence. I vomited everything up, all of my stress, worries, concerns, pain. It all came up. Vomiting up ayahuasca is different from the kind of vomiting you might get from food poisoning or some other illness. The sounds alone are enough to recognize that (imagine someone screaming and vomiting at the same time). It feels like it comes from somewhere much deeper than just your stomach, and you’re not just getting out whatever food or liquid you consumed in the previous few hours plus some stomach juices. You’re getting out bad things. Emotional struggles. Past traumas. Self-hate. Destructive, limiting beliefs. It’s literally coming out as you vomit.
My purge wasn’t over once I’d finished throwing up. I started to cry uncontrollably, but the tears didn’t stem from sadness. They were cathartic and provided release, eventually turning into tears of joy. Purging on ayahuasca can come in many forms, not just vomiting. It can come out as laughing, yawning, crying, physical movements, or diarrhea. It’s all normal, and it’s all brought on with nothing but love.
After I stopped crying, I went back to my mattress to enjoy the music. I felt awash with unbounded gratitude. I felt connected. I felt so much love I could burst. Gracias, medicina.
Post-ceremony
At around 6 am, things started to wind down. I slept for a couple of hours and woke up to people starting to discuss the night’s events. I got up and went to sit by the fire again where I spoke to Patrick and Catalina about what had happened. Strangely, I started to experience some light visual effects and felt myself slipping back into a mild psychedelic state as we chatted. This had never happened to me before, but I went with it. It lasted around an hour, after which I felt great. We were to drink twice more that day, so we spent the hours leading up to the second ceremony talking, reading, relaxing, and journaling.
We drank again at around 5 pm. This time, the insights were more actionable. My mantras, self-talk, and the messages I got were all in Spanish. It showed me that I have no reason to ever be hesitant to speak Spanish. I got the message that I’m following the right path with my writing, and that I should pursue the ideas that I’ve had in the back of my mind for a while (hence this blogs!). I knew that I had to go forward, always trusting my own intuition. The medicine had taken a while to kick in, but once it did, I again had a very physical experience and a lot of intense nausea. At certain points, I considered drinking more, but I felt so nauseous that I couldn’t bring myself to. Eventually, I purged but continued to feel very uncomfortable and unstable. The music brought relief, but I knew I had to be patient. After a while, the discomfort subsided and I got some sleep before the third ceremony, which was to take place later that night.
The third ceremony felt like a reinforcement of the lessons I’d received in the first two, and more. At this point, as you can imagine, I was exhausted. We took the yagé at around 3 am (just over 24 hours after the first time we drank). The nausea hit again and felt even more relentless. I purged but felt no relief. Every time I felt like it was subsiding, and thought to myself, “I think it’s going now,” it would get worse. I felt like I was in an endless state of chuma and stomach pain. I closed my eyes and went on journeys through the psychedelic realm, but the discomfort kept me from fully surrendering. The medicine was teaching me serious patience, and would continue to do so until midday the following day. I knew I had to get comfortable being uncomfortable. I sat with the pain and opened myself up to whatever the medicine had to teach me.
I felt a deep understanding of how important it is to be true to myself. To not do things because that’s what I perceive other people expect of me, or because I want to be able to say that I’ve done them. This is the only way to live authentically, and ultimately carve out the path that I want for myself. I began to understand what it feels like to feel from the heart, and not only think my emotions in my head. It’s difficult to explain how you just “get” these things during an ayahuasca journey, but they just come to you. Things that I previously believed to be true turned into unquestionable truths. This was not necessarily new information, the medicine just reinforces it in a wholly new way. My mantra for this ceremony was: let go, be open, trust the process. It’s one that I’ll try to carry into my life as part of how I integrate these experiences.
Again, the stomach pain carried on for a few hours after the ceremony. I tried to get up and mingle with the others over breakfast, but I couldn’t stomach eating anything yet so I went to sit by the fire. It became clear that I wasn’t going to purge again, so I went to lie down until it subsided. In the space of three ceremonies, I had managed to completely flip how I thought about this discomfort. While in past ceremonies, I had spent that time willing for it to be over and to feel normal again, I understood now that this is how it has to go. The medicine is always teaching you something, even if it doesn’t feel like it. I had to let the yagé do its work.
We spent the rest of the day lying by the pool, sharing our experiences, and relaxing ahead of the following day’s ceremonies. That night, we shared medicines and each spoke about what we had learned so far. I summed mine up in one statement, which was also the name of the song that the musician had played to open the circle: confianza en el camino (trust in the process).
After the medicine circle came the sound healing, where the musicians used instruments from all around the world to create beautiful sounds and music. Admittedly, I was slipping in and out of sleep at this point, as it was around 2 am. It was beautiful, though, and after it was over we all got up to sleepily dance to a few of the songs. After that, I headed straight to bed and got a good night’s sleep before the final day of ceremonies.
Confianza en el camino
I awoke with a real sense of excitement. After speaking to a few others who had done this retreat before, the general consensus was that the final day’s yagé ceremony felt like a powerful culmination of the whole retreat. While you can never know what to expect, I had a hunch that this would be the case for me too. We had a light breakfast of crackers and fruit and nervously waited for the ceremony to begin.
At around 1 pm, we sat around the altar where the Taita pours the yagé, and he began his ritual of singing icaros over the plastic jugs that hold the brew while shaking his waira over the medicine. He finished and called us up to drink. I was one of the first. I drank, and gathered my blanket, pillow, bucket, toilet roll, and water bottle, and headed over to the poolside cabin with Patrick. We sat there waiting for it to kick in. After around an hour, Patrick got up to drink again. Another 30 minutes passed, and I wasn’t feeling anything yet, so I got up for a second cup. I relocated to my mat, and the music started.
I slowly started to slip into the familiar state. I was sitting crossed-legged with my eyes closed and started rocking back and forth to the music. As it got louder, I started swaying and sit-down dancing to its infectious rhythm. And off I went.
As the effects grew stronger, I reminded myself to focus on my breath. The visions started and I began to go what felt like upwards on a journey until I’d open my eyes and bring myself back once again. The effects slowly got much more intense, so I anchored myself in my breath and my internal mantras:
Let go
Be open
Trust the process
Todo es amor
The colours were like I’ve never seen before, and everything seemed to move with the music. Whenever I’d open my eyes, I’d see pink and orange hues coming from the musicians. When they played louder, the candle flame would get bigger and the atmosphere would thicken. I had some nausea, but nothing compared to the previous three ceremonies. I felt an unbounded connection to the music and thanked the musicians eternally for all of the ways in which they’d helped me through the process. I heard the goings-on of others in the group, some people were laughing, some puking, some babbling, but it was all good. It was all healing. I didn’t let them affect my experience heavily; every time something started to take me off track, I took some deep breaths, reminded myself of my mantras, and brought myself back to my centre. I was travelling through a continuum of colours, bodily feelings, and incredible sounds. Keenan came over to me to check on how I was doing. I managed to mutter “I’m good.” He looked so proud. “You’re killing it, Mags,” he said. “I’m killing it, Keenan,” I replied.
After a while of focusing on my breath, anchoring myself, and focusing on not getting led down paths I had the power to avoid, I began to slip into a more relaxed state. The experience was just as intense, but I felt like I had reached a point where I could focus on what the medicine was showing me rather than calming myself down. Overwhelmingly, the message was inner strength. I have more inner strength than I ever knew. It’s always there, and I’ll always be able to tap into it. Noone can ever take it away, and whatever life may bring, I know I can handle it. It felt like I’d uncovered a source of something that I knew was going to teach me, guide me, and be there for me for the rest of my life. And that was my heart, my eternal source of inner strength.
The experience drew on. Others laughed, screamed, cried, purged. It was all beautiful. It was all love. I slipped into a state of wonderment, calmness, gratitude, and ultimate appreciation for the medicine. Don’t get me wrong, weird stuff was happening (I could hear someone turning a blender on and off for around one-minute intervals – I later discovered that no one else had heard this and no one had been using a blender) – but I had the power to choose how I responded.
Eventually, after what felt like hours, the intensity of the effects began to subside. I was still very much chumada (tripping) when Catalina came to mobilize us to head down to the Inipi, and for a split second I considered whether I could do it. That thought quickly passed. I called on my inner strength, slowly arose from my mat, put on my bikini in the bathroom while taking a painstaking effort to not look in the mirror, and started to slowly and carefully make my way to the Inipi.
I remembered the patience, the strength, the beauty, the connectedness, the gratitude, and ultimately – the love – that the medicine had shown to me over the prior four days. I was exactly where I was supposed to be, and I’ll go exactly where I’m supposed to go, as long as I have confianza en el camino.
