[Part 4 of 5] Plant Medicine Trip Log — “The Cosmic Serpent”
They say that psychedelics can lead to what might be described as a “mystical experience”. The night of the first Ayahuasca ceremony felt exactly like that. Dying and being reborn a thousand and one times, then being revealed a wisdom (“Accept and Enjoy”) seemed like the ultimate reason for being here.
And because of that, I was convinced that what I went through was enough. The lesson had been delivered and there was no need to go into the next (and final) ceremony.
The Shaman thought differently. “You’ve been given this opportunity so accept it and enjoy it”, alluding to the previous insight. “Treat it like a journey. Travel and enjoy the scenery!”.
But I’m sure she sensed something else. Going through multiple lives and deaths left me drained and exhausted — a part of me didn’t want to do it again. That, and the snakes. A few pasajeras described encountering scary creatures, mostly snakes, in their Ayahuasca experience. A part of me wanted to avoid that as well.
Wishful thinking. The last ceremony put me face to face with the dreaded serpent.
The Shaman encouraged us to thank Grandma Ayahuasca. She wasn’t just a brew of Amazonian plants, she was the “Essence of Nature”. I tried to remember this beautiful idea as I drank the liquid that looked and tasted like tar.
The sweet music began. And with it we all dove into our own paths. Some went on the trip with giggles. Some sobbed. Some made curious little sounds that made you wonder whether they were in excruciating pain or absolute ecstasy.
But the journey for me started when everything came to a halt. When there was nothing else but silence. Piercing, intense silence.
It had a sound, a vibration to be more exact. It seemed like it was emanating from the crown of my head, but when I tuned in it was actually pulling me upwards. There were obscure geometric shapes that were alien, from another dimension. In fear, I searched for my breath and took a deep inhale opening my eyes to see the Maloka once again.
“Accept and enjoy. Accept and enjoy.”. I closed my eyes and tried to embody the words like a mantra.
The shamanic songs resumed and now the lyrics unfolded into breathtaking images of travels through lush rainforests and across epic mountains. I wasn’t alone on these adventures. In fact I was 3 different “people”.
There was my body: a child involuntary swaying with glee. My mind: a mischievous teenager at times, stopping the child from his innocent dance, yet also an assertive adult in other times, letting the child be. And then there was what I have come to call my “inner compass”: a wise elderly who always knew what was right. This wise one didn’t have to say a word, yet, I couldn’t help but hear it when all went quiet.
These 3 parts were working together in that last ceremony. Sometimes one took over the other and was “louder”. The body moved carelessly. The mind went into analyzing the images and forgot to be in the present moment. The inner compass sometimes sounded disciplinary, self-righteous even. But there were moments when they were all in harmony, and this was accompanied by an indescribable “state”.
Indescribable because it was nothing. And the moment the mind wanted to explain it or the body fidgeted, audible movement was created in the void and this “state of nothing” ceased to exist.
But being in it felt like pure bliss. And something else that was mysterious.
This state kept coming and going, or I kept stepping in and out of it. The 3 parts of me collaborated in a way that centered one another.
The vibrations of silence reappeared and now they were coming out of an object that looked sacred. I became a young pharaoh standing in front of something that flashed back and forth between an obelisk and an eye of a pyramid. It wanted to transmit something. A tremendous power. I resisted it.
“Accept and enjoy.”
This reminder made me let go and the power was placed on me like an armour. I suddenly saw myself as an almighty pharoah, but in his golden coffin. Arms crossed holding (hoarding!) precious objects. Eyes wide open too afraid to let go. My head was shaking “No”. My mind was trying to listen. There was something else that wanted to emerge.
“Share.”
And with that word my tight, crossed arms opened wide. I shared this “power” around the Maloka, keeping attention one by one on each person until this thing — what I imagined as love, wisdom, joy combined — was given.
This was the lesson from tonight. I felt its “right”-ness in my body like all the other wisdoms that I’ve come to learn on this trip.
I reached out to the journal by my side and traced the letters in the dark: “S H A R E”.
The more I went around the circle and shared, the more this learning made sense. It was expansive, infinite. I stepped out of the Maloka and shared this acquired insight with the trees, the mountains, the sky and the stars. The mind went into weird scenarios like aliens coming to earth and humans feeling threatened that what they believed they owned would be taken away. “Share!”, the wisdom declared as the correct response. It felt like the answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything. As true as 42.
But there was still something missing. I had to thank the wise old grannie.
Ayahuasca took a few forms that night. Once she appeared as a silhouette of a hunched-back grandma. She had a big smile that turned into hysteric laughs expressing how ecstatic she was that her grandchildren were learning life’s lessons. Another time she was a column of light, shining and graceful. And then of course, there was the time that she came as an anaconda.
I looked into her eyes — each and every time she came to visit that night — this time, green and reptilian. A moment of panic arose, but my 3 parts came together to ground me and remind me of one of my intentions. “Gracias abuelita,” arms stretched out to hug her. And every time this happened, the energy of gratitude and the gesture of embrace came back. My arms folded around myself and I felt warmth rising from within. A half smile of content.
The “medicine” was inside, and I thanked myself for allowing myself to take it in. There was a deep sense of gratitude, but also care and love.
A sound-bite of our times, this was probably what “loving one’s self” felt like. Everything was perfect the way it was, even and especially those that we think of as not. All was “good”. My mind tried to describe this deep feeling and the words it conjured was “Divine Satisfaction”.
“Mmmmmmmm,” the body sighed instead. I chuckled at a joke that if “Om” was the sound of the Universe, then it must be a cosmic, collective, sigh of satisfaction.
“Ommmmmmm.”
The night ended calmy, with all of us slowly crawling into the middle of the Maloka for snacks.
