Quiet giggles consume me as the wheels of my plane screech down on the tarmac of the Lima airport. My flight from Iquitos lasted about ninety minutes, taking me over beautiful jungle and mountain scenery, much of which was covered by thick clouds. It is Tuesday, April 29, 2014, at about 10:30 a.m., when I step into the foggy sunlight of Lima.
I am surprised that we stop in the middle of the tarmac. After climbing down a wheeled staircase, we are whisked onto a bus that then takes us to the terminal. My luggage is already checked through all the way to Cusco, but I still need to stop at the airline counter to check in to my next flight. I don’t understand why, but I have to get some type of sticker placed on my next ticket. My Spanish is improving on a consistent basis, but I still struggle to understand in some situations. When I ask at the counter, not even sure what I am asking for, the woman seems to understand, and seconds later an “airport tax” sticker is placed on my ticket to Cusco.
I have three hours to kill before my connecting flight leaves. Feeling guided, I check out the Cusco section of my tour book and make a few calls to reserve a hotel room. But I spend most of my time in Lima simply meditating in the waiting area of the departure gate.
Finally, after another short flight, at just before 3:15 p.m., I look out the window and see the city of Cusco nestled in a valley below me. Even though I have never been to Cusco in this lifetime, the energy here feels unusually familiar. A sense of “being home” consumes me as the inner giggles continue to flow.
I am landing in the mountain tops. The city itself resides at 11,152 feet (3399 meters) above sea level. I already know it will be quite the shift in both temperature and altitude. Both Iquitos and Lima are very close to sea level. As I step off the plane, the cool air is quite a shock.
Soon, with luggage in hand and a coat on my back, a taxi whisks me away to my hotel, situated just a block north of the “Plaza De Armas” in the old historic center of Cusco.
Freezing Cold
It is after 4:00 p.m. when I arrive at the Hostal Rojas. The sun has already disappeared behind nearby mountain tops, and without sun, I feel as if I have walked into a deep freeze. The temperature shift is quite dramatic after having lived in the sweltering hot jungle for four and a half months.
Once I am checked in, I bundle up and begin a quick exploration of the surrounding city-center area. As usual, I have done no advance research. It feels more adventurous to just figure things out as I go. Soon, I am sitting in a nearby restaurant, devouring a yummy meal of chicken shish-ka-bobs
That first night at the Hostal Rojas is freezing. The bed is piled high with three thick blankets, and as long as I remain under the heavy layers I am fine. But every time I make a trip to the bathroom (which turns out to be frequent), I get the chill of a lifetime. Even here in the mountains, the vast majority of people in this region live without any type of central heating.
Tourist, Shopper, And Tour Planner
I won’t go into a lot of detail about my time in Cusco. Such detail is already documented in my photo post titled: “Photos from Cusco” published on June 26, 2014.
In short, I spend most of two long days playing tourist, exploring the city and surrounding areas on foot and by tour bus. My third day in Cusco is consumed mostly by shopping and errands.
Feeling embarrassed by my baggy slacks (after losing 30 pounds), I purchase three new pair of slacks. They are obviously knock-off counterfeits, because they have brand name labels on them, but only cost around $25 each, and the workmanship seems to be quite substandard. But the slacks work for me – they fit around my waist without needing a belt, and I don’t seem to have many other options.
I also spend considerable time researching travel options for Machu Picchu. I want to make sense out of the maze of possibilities – whether to arrange my own trip or to book something through an agency, etc…
When all is said and done, I feel guided to purchase my own entry tickets to the ruins. I will spend one entire day (June 1, 2014) in the park itself, and will then spend a second day (June 2) climbing the famous Huayna Picchu (or Wayna Picchu) mountain that sits right behind the ruins in most photos of the area. Tickets for this hike are hard to come by. Right now, they are already sold out several weeks in advance … but during the high season (which is beginning now) they are often sold out several months in advance.
With entrance tickets in hand, I then walk to an office of “Peru Rail” where I buy roundtrip train tickets to Aguas Calientes (the city near the base of the ruins). I will arrive on May 31 and return on June 2.
I am excited to have tickets in hand. I have felt drawn to Machu Picchu for a very long time, and feel quite excited (and apprehensive) about climbing the Huayna Picchu mountain. I have heard so many conflicting stories. Some people tell me I will be able to easily complete the hike. Other accounts talk about how difficult and dangerous it is, making me wonder if I am in good-enough condition. But, my heart tells me to give it a try, and I will. The worst that can happen is that I will turn around and simply not finish.
Pisac Or Bust
On Friday, May 2, 2014, after completing all my errands, I check out of my hotel at just before 11:00 a.m., with another destination in mind.
I have felt drawn to the town of Pisac for a very long time. Pisac is about an hour away from Cusco. It too is nestled in a valley – one called “The Sacred Valley”. The Sacred Valley begins just over the mountain range to the east of Cusco. It is a long, winding valley that gradually drops in altitude until it reaches Aguas Calientes (1300 feet below Machu Picchu). Pisac is at the upper end of the valley, at an elevation of about 9751 feet (2972 meters) above sea level (1400 feet lower than Cusco). Aguas Calientes is at the lower end of the Sacred Valley, at an elevation 6690 feet (2040 meters).
Soon, after a short taxi ride, I pay 2.5 soles (about $1.00 US) and board a rickety old bus. Nearly an hour later, after winding through well-paved mountain roads, the bus descends into the Sacred Valley, and I step down into another reality.
Pisac is a small town, with perhaps 10,000 residents. Most of the homes are made from adobe, and the streets are dirty and narrow. The population here is made up of mostly indigenous people. The surrounding mountains are gorgeous and the energy here is delightful.
Pisac (and surrounding areas) has become a favorite spot for foreign travelers and expats. Like my former residence in San Marcos La Laguna, at Lake Atitlan in Guatemala, Pisac is filled with new age, holistic health, and spiritual people, all on their own variety of assorted journeys. Should I choose to do so, I could easily participate in massages, sweat lodges, yoga, social activities, tarot readings, astrology classes, and service opportunities, etc.
But what really draws me here is the possibility of renting a house and maybe working on the passion of writing a book – while simultaneously being able to participate in medicine ceremonies if I feel so inclined.
Social Shyness
After checking into an inexpensive hostel, I go to Ulrike’s restaurant – a place that I hear is a local hangout for westerners. As I eat by myself, I am shocked by how shy and unsure of myself that I feel. I realize that, while I have done a great deal of social healing, that I still have many old habits to face. Soon, a situation creates itself where I feel comfortable in talking to someone at a neighboring table. Before long, I have purchased a ticket to participate in a fundraiser activity for a local school.
After lunch, I explore the surrounding area for more than three hours, stopping at various businesses to ask questions – hoping to learn about places for rent etc. What I hear from most everyone is that there is no central source for information, and that houses are in short supply. The best way to find one is to connect socially with others, so that when one becomes available, I can jump at the opportunity. (I am also on a Facebook page that advertises housing opportunities in the Sacred Valley, but there is very little advertising happening right now.)
I feel a knot in my stomach as I contemplate the need to reach out socially. I am no longer afraid to do so, but socializing is not my primary purpose here. I want to mostly isolate and work on my writing.
Synchronicities And Social Exploration
I find my hostel to be cold, old, dark, and dreary, so when the power goes off in the morning (and other nearby places still have power), I pack up my bags and move to a much nicer place that I found in my explorations of yesterday. My new place is so much lighter, more modern, and even less expensive.
Even though I feel quite shy and alone (feeling as if I do not know anyone here), I actually already have a friend. At 10:30 a.m. I meet Andrea for breakfast. I knew her casually during my retreat in Iquitos. She and her partner have rented a house in a nearby town. Our breakfast conversation is delightful, giving me confidence that “I can do this”.
After a fun morning, I pick up my phone and call another man that I have not yet met. He is an astrologer and author, but I don’t know that yet. All I know is that he has a small house that will be available to sublet from May 10 to June 3 – with the caveat that he needs someone to care for his cats.
I meet Dan at 2:00 p.m., and have soon agreed to rent his place. I will move into his house in just seven days. It all feels so synchronous … and it is. Somehow, I choose to ignore the fact that I have cat allergies – allergies that can be quite severe with certain cats. I trust that all is well.
Later that evening, as I use my ticket to attend the fundraiser (purchased yesterday at lunch), I find myself feeling extremely alone and awkward (a very old and strong party pattern). But I try not to focus on those feelings, and instead attempt to act confident and outgoing. I do connect with a few people, but continue to feel awkward. I am the “new person” here, and everyone else seems to have deep social bonds with already established friends.
Not beating myself up – being quite gentle in fact – I choose to leave as soon as the entertainment part of the activity is over. When people sit down to eat, and I am left standing alone, I head back to my hostel room. The thought of approaching a table full of people and asking to join them just feels too awkward, and I am not hungry anyway.
It was a big stretch for me to even attend the party. Rather than criticize myself for leaving, I congratulate myself for having gone in the first place. I am, however, quite surprised that my shyness continues to be so strong.
Synchronous Ceremonies
As fate would have it, I quickly build a fun friendship with my neighbor at the new hostel. He is a really nice man from Canada who is having a lot of fun attending various ayahuasca ceremonies in the area. I pick his brain, writing down names and phone numbers, and have soon made arrangements to attend my first ayahuasca ceremony while here in Pisac.
On Monday evening, May 5, 2014, I spend forty-five minutes walking to the ceremonial center, just up the canyon from the nearby town of Taray. Alonso Del Rio (the shaman) has a beautiful piece of property here, with a large ceremonial maloca. I arrive an hour early, and spend time getting to know a few people from Mexico.
The ceremony itself begins just after 6:00 p.m..
I am surprised by how the ayahuasca does not taste bad to me. In fact, compared to what I was drinking in Iquitos, this is very palatable. And within twenty or thirty minutes, I find myself in a deep journey – strong, but not overpowering. I manage to stay in a relaxed “sweet spot”, enjoying the journey.
But the journey fades shortly after 8:00 p.m., just after Alonso has opened up the possibility of a second dose. After some internal debate, I walk over and sit in front of Alonso, asking for a little more.
A Familiar Pattern
Within ten minutes after consuming the second small dose, I am back in a deep journey – one that lasts a very long time.
I have few clear memories from the evening, and the only intuitive messages that come to me are related to the importance of self love – and of loving others with pure innocence and lack of judgment – seeing them in their own divinity.
I love the music of the evening. I even try to join in the singing (we are allowed to) – but I just feel too exhausted to project any volume. I see this exhaustion as an emotion in and of itself – an emotion of resistance and tiredness in the midst of a beautiful journey.
After four and a half hours, the ceremony is closed at around 10:30 p.m. – but I remain deeply in my journey, still feeling weak and exhausted. I am not sure if it is physical or emotional, but at times I feel extremely cold. I am wrapped up in many layers of clothing and blankets, but I simply cannot get warm.
Shortly after midnight, I feel a sense of darkness that tries to consume me – one accompanied by nausea and dizziness. Intuitions tell me this is just self-sabotage, but it is very real. I feel disconnected from my heart and guidance, not sure what is going on – doing all I can to remain focused on love.
A Warm Bed
During a trip to the bathroom, as I attempt to vomit, I feel as if I am on the edge of losing my sanity. I sit on the floor of that bathroom for what must be at least twenty minutes. I am unsuccessful in my attempt to purge, and am swirling in a miserable, dizzying journey. I recognize that this is just an old pattern of miserable emotions that I need to feel and release, but it is not a fun experience.
Finally, at 1:10 a.m., my friend from the hostel tells me that he is going to walk home now. I ask if I can join him. I want to get back in a real bed, and I don’t want to walk forty-five minutes alone, in the dark, at this early hour. As we step outside, I wobble and feel a tiny bit dizzy, but am confident that I can make it. To my delight, however, a local woman leaves at the same time. She has a car, and quickly volunteers to take us to the edge of Pisac.
I am so grateful to be back in my soft bed with warm blankets. Eventually, I even manage to get a few hours of broken rest.
Distracted, Energized, And Resting
I wake up on Tuesday morning still feeling weak and tired. But soon, as I get myself going, I find the strength to function.
Just before noon, I catch a collectivo (shared mini van) to Cusco. I need more money and do not fully trust the ATM here in town. It is a fast trip, and I am back in Pisac before 3:00 p.m..
I have been distracted and tired all day – but this is to be expected with the energy of ayahuasca still coursing through my body. Finally, later that evening, after resting and watching a movie or two, I manage to engage in a beautiful meditation – a meditation that leaves me basking in magical energy flows.
Early Wednesday morning, I return to that meditation, and enjoy more of the same energy. My heart seems to be opening even further as the magical energy dances around.
For the next few days, I mostly rest, being quite gentle with myself. I recognize that with the altitude and temperature shifts, I need to slow down and give myself time to adjust.
On Friday morning, I am delighted when I learn that my friend Sufi will be flying to Peru next Tuesday, and that she will likely come to Pisac a few days later. I look forward to sharing more time with her.
A Purging Ceremony
On Friday evening (May 9, 2014), I participate in my second ayahuasca ceremony here in Pisac – this one under the leadership of Diego Palma. I really enjoy his energy and style of interacting with others as I sit through a pre-ceremony meeting.
After drinking the ayahuasca at around 9:20 p.m., I am surprised by how quickly I begin to feel the effects – perhaps only twenty minutes later. I soon feel nausea and am shocked when I am eventually the first person to vomit. It is an intense purge that goes on for several minutes. Later, feeling the medicine very strongly, I am not even sure if I am capable of walking outside to the bathroom. I make it, but am very wobbly.
The most weird thing of the evening is the intensely painful intestinal gas that overwhelms me. It churns and pops in my lower belly, making audible sounds as the pressurized misery moves here and there in the intestines. I am agonizingly bloated – and it is all nothing but hot air. Yet I know that it is somehow an integral and important part of my process tonight.
Soon, I stumble back to that bathroom, this time engaging in another extremely noisy vomiting purge.
Overall, I vomit a total of three or four times in the first hour and a half. This surprises me greatly as I wonder what is going on. This is the most I have purged since my October 2012 ceremony in Guatemala. I know the intensity is serving me, but it is also quite overwhelming, especially when my arms and legs begin vibrating and shaking mildly.
I feel a strong desire to simply whimper and moan in misery, and I believe this to be very real emotion that I need to feel before it can be released. I surrender and allow myself to sink into the emotion, while simultaneously struggling to minimize external sounds and expression. The emotions are so strong that I have little choice but to feel them deeply. I have no strength to do anything else.
Joy And Contentment
I am not the only one having an intense journey tonight. Others around me seem to be struggling even more than me. We are packed tightly into this small ceremonial space, and it is the first ayahuasca ceremony for both of the people on either side of me. We are so close that they frequently touch and bump me.
The “old me” might have been deeply annoyed by this. The “new me” flows with deep compassion and love, seeing these two as my brother and sister – as old friends. I am not bothered at all by the physical contact, and am instead ignoring it with love.
Eventually, as the intensity of my own journey subsides at around 11:30 p.m., I manage to start bringing in light and love – even finding the strength and energy to sing along with some of the songs being sung.
Over time, I gradually move into a place of joy and contentment, bursting with love and genuine smiles that come from the heart.
The ceremony closes around 2:00 a.m., but the songs continue as others sing and play instruments. Finally feeling complete, I choose to walk home at around 2:40 a.m..
Post Ceremony Pondering
As I walk slowly in the dark, enjoying the incredible star-filled sky, I ponder about the intense misery that flowed through me earlier in the evening. There is still no doubt that what I felt tonight was very real and very old emotion – emotion that I have repressed, resisted, and fought throughout my life.
“Getting LOST in the emotion would have been self-sabotage,” intuitions also bring clarity, “but it was still very important to let myself feel the emotion, doing so without identifying with it … without getting lost in it.”
The ceremony tonight was profound, showing me that there yet remain deep and core emotions that block me from being able to be fully present.
By 3:30 a.m., I am back in my hostel bed, and I manage to fall asleep by around 4:00 a.m., only getting a couple of hours of good rest.
Kitty Chaos
Early Saturday morning, still feeling quite tired, I walk out to Dan’s house to feed the cats. I then return to my hostel, enjoy a nice conversation with my friend, pack up my bags, catch a taxi, and soon move to my new “temporary home”.
Not being prepared to cook, I then head out to get lunch and do necessary shopping for kitchen staples. Feeling energized, I spend the entire afternoon working on my blog. It is time to start catching up in my writing.
I noticed it when first deciding to live in this little house, but now, even before sleeping here, the place is already beginning to bother me. The house is quite cluttered and dirty and has a very strong cat smell. I still hope that I will love it here, but am also wondering if perhaps I might have made a mistake.
“It will be purrfect,” I giggle, reminding myself that it was my heart that guided me here.
But as I later try to sleep, I realize just how strong my allergies really are. Plus, the little kitties are extremely active and noisy as they play. When I pull the comforter up to my face, my eyes begin to itch intensely, and my sinuses start to swell and plug up, making it difficult to breathe.
“Everything happens for a reason,” I remind myself in meditation. “Maybe it is time to allow these allergies to come to the surface, while using ayahuasca, so that I can purge and release the energies behind the allergies.”
Somehow, I manage to relax and fall asleep – but the kitties wake me up repeatedly as they chew on my luggage, run around, scratch in their litter box, and frequently sit on the bed next to my pillow.
Back To Writing
When morning comes, I crawl out of bed by 6:30 a.m., and am surprised that I am not tired at all. As I move around, the allergies soon fade and my nose clears. I quickly feed the kitties, shower, and for the first time since January, I cook oatmeal and start a pot of beans in Dan’s pressure cooker.
Then, also for the first time since January, I spend the day writing. I have a huge and daunting writing task ahead of me. On Monday, I manage to finish and edit my first installment of writing and integration. I am excited when I hit the “publish” button, sending “An Ayahuasca Healing Adventure – Part 1” out for all to read.
And I do it just in time to prepare for yet-another ayahuasca ceremony.
A Double Dose
I leave home early, arriving at my destination before 7:00 p.m., feeling eager to set up my space. The ceremony tonight will be in the same space as the one on Friday, but this one will be led by “Jean Piel” – another ayahuascero who works with Diego Palma. I should probably mention that many of the ceremonies here in Pisac are quite different from those led by indigenous shamans in the jungle. Instead, they are similar to the first ceremony I ever attended in Mexico, with many different kinds of music, songs, and instruments. I have also noticed that in my first two ceremonies, there has been almost no direct one-on-one time with the shaman/leader.
As I sit in the ceremonial maloca, waiting for the ceremony to begin, I feel profoundly social as I engage in a delightful conversation with a beautiful young man from Arizona.
After more group introductory discussion, I finally get to drink my ayahuasca at around 9:20. I feel the effects mildly, but they never get strong. At 10:30 p.m., still not feeling much, I walk over and sit in front of Jean Piel, asking for a second dose.
“I just want a tiny bit more,” I tell him.
But his partner Julie is the one who pours my second dose, and she fills my cup up to the top. I almost tell her “No, I don’t want that much” – but intuitions whisper that maybe I need to trust what is happening. I soon drink the whole amount – filling me with a second full dose of plant medicine.
The medicine comes on very strong. Within fifteen minutes I am deep in the journey. In the same timeframe, I am suddenly overwhelmed by freezing cold, as if I were walking naked in a blizzard. I pull a thick blanket around me and up over my head, desperately trying to warm myself. But the cold is energetic and not physical. Something in me is really resisting.
An Unwelcome Bath
Meanwhile, many others in the room have been purging intensely with just a single dose. Later, many people tell me that the medicine tonight was stronger than normal.
I do not remember much from the remainder of the evening, other than the fact that I am freezing, miserable, and purge several times. The first couple of purges are weak, but I finally clear my stomach completely (energetically and physically) about an hour later.
The most traumatic thing of the evening is that at one point “Brenda-doll” falls into my purge bucket. I frequently hold Bobby-bear and Brenda-doll during ceremonies. When I cannot find her, it takes several minutes to realize what has happened. I am overwhelmed with sadness when I discover her drenched, essentially taking a “bath” in putrid brown stomach contents.
Barely able to walk, I quickly carry Brenda-doll to the bathroom to rinse and wash her off as best I can.
Perceived Darkness
When I return to the ceremony space, I feel intensely lost. I sense a lot of “dark energy” in the room. I am not sure if it is my own projection, or if it is real. And I am stuck in my head, not feeling sure if I need to surrender to this energy, or resist it. My head and my fear both tell me to resist.
I spend most of the remaining evening whimpering in agony as I struggle to remain connected to my heart power. I am lost and unable to focus … mostly just struggling with the emotional energies flowing out of me.
I repeatedly attempt to surrender to what is happening, but I cannot. Fear surfaces – fear about the perceived darkness. And weakness distracts me. I have no ability to focus mentally, and just drift aimlessly while whimpering in exhaustion.
Several times, I attempt to sing along with a few songs, but my voice is weak and shaky. And my body twitches with agitated energy, especially the arms.
Repeatedly, I do my best to check in with guidance. What I keep getting is that this is indeed real emotion – emotion that I am going into more deeply than I have ever allowed before. I find it somewhat frightening, because I know it would be quite easy to get lost and drown in this energy.
Even so, I see all of this as GOOD – as being exactly what I need in order to release more stuff from the bottom of my big emotional barrel – releasing putrid and frightening stuff from my field.
A Wobbly Ending
At 2:00 a.m., when the candles are lit in the center of the room (indicating the close of ceremony), I am far from done. I continue to struggle to find focus. I do my best to ignore the noisy distractions and the mindless conversations (my perception) going on around me.
Finally, at around 3:00 a.m., I start talking to and hugging a couple of people. I am beginning to feel better and more grounded.
When I have my strength back, at around 3:40 a.m., I leave to walk home. I am very wobbly, but strong enough to make it. I wander down the dirt road as if I were drunk, but less than a half hour later I make it through the dark and back to my little house. I quickly crawl under the covers and do manage to get about three hours of broken sleep.
When I wake up at 7:00 a.m., I continue to feel agitated energy pulsing intensely through me. I want to whimper and cry some more. I try to rest … and try to meditate … but I am quite non-functional.
Finally, at just after 9:00 a.m., I set off on another journey, feeling much stronger.
Exploring Huachuma
For quite some time, I have been interested in another plant medicine – one whose roots lie in the shamanic traditions of the indigenous people from the Andes Mountains. In both English and Spanish, the medicine is called San Pedro. In Peru, it is called Huachuma. It is a mescaline-based medicine that comes from a cactus that is widespread in this part of the world.
Feeling that it is time to check it out, I have made arrangements to do a ceremony tomorrow (Wednesday) with a man named Paul Temple (highly recommended to me by a few people). Today (Tuesday) I am going out to his house to help prepare the medicine.
After arriving at just before 10:00 a.m., I enjoy the fascinating discussions and subsequent experience of helping to peel the cactus and harvest the darker green portions. Soon, Paul has it all in a large kettle as he adds water and brings it to a boil. I am excited to be sharing this experience with another young friend (not Sufi) – one that I also first met in Guatemala. She just arrived in town a few days ago, and it is fun to see her.
After resting for the remainder of Tuesday, and another sneezing night of cat allergies, I get up early on Wednesday morning, May 14, 2014 – beginning the 40 minute walk back to Paul’s home at around 7:30.
After a morning of visiting and drinking tea, we all walk down to the ceremonial space at just after 9:00 a.m..
An Inner Deep Freeze
There are ten of us present, including Paul (our leader). As soon as we finish the drinking ceremony, we separate and find our own private space somewhere within the boundaries of Paul’s gorgeously landscaped garden areas.
I begin to feel very mild effects after about 40 minutes, including a pleasant energy flow in my legs and lower chakras; but that is about all I feel from the medicine.
At around 11:30 a.m., I am still not feeling much, other than a nice energy with bright colors. I sense that I am “on the edge” of going deeper, but am simply not getting there. At around noon, after discussing my “threshold” with Paul, I decide that I want to drink a little more medicine. Paul gives me perhaps another third of a dose.
Soon, rather than remaining in a sitting up position, I lie down, with my fingertips in the grass. Gradually, I feel the medicine connecting me with energies of the earth, and “reality” begins to confuse me. When I close my eyes, I feel as if I am journeying outside of time. When I open my eyes, I am startled back to the present. It is amazing, and magical.
But what startles me most is that I feel as if I am beginning to freeze, from the inside out, as if a deep freeze has taken up residence inside my bones.
A Pending Fire
All along, I have believed that San Pedro (Huachuma) just gave people a beautiful connection and heightened sensitivity to nature and mother earth. I am rapidly learning that it is much, much more than that.
Paul soon helps me move to a place around the corner, into a spot with bright sun, and then begins to tell me that the cold I feel is NOT from the outside – that it is energetic.
I rest here for a long time, drifting all over the place when I close my eyes, but still shivering furiously. The cold seems to be focused mostly in my spine and legs. I do not know what to make of it, and cannot seem to move beyond it.
Meanwhile, Paul shares several stories with me, talking about his own past experiences with the freezing cold, and reassuring me that this is a very common thing with huachuma.
“Brenda,” Paul tells me at about 1:30 p.m., “I am going to build a fire inside and move you to it. You will find that the fire will not help to warm you up. This will show you that this is not an external cold.”
Freezing In The Heat
Paul then disappears for a while before returning to escort me inside. As we pass through his dining area, I ask permission to take a quick restroom break. As I attempt to climb the staircase to Paul’s bathroom, I barely manage to maintain balance as I move one foot at a time. I am very wobbly, and feel as if I am not fully in my body. I am quite numb and detached. When I stand in front of the mirror, my face looks puffy and swollen. I am later told that this is just my own perception, that my face is perfectly normal.
And as I pee, it feels as if I am feeling someone else’s body. It is quite an unexpected experience.
Finally, as I curl up in front of a blazing fire, I am quite confused http://storecialis.net/brand-cialis/. I feel the strong heat on my skin, and my clothing feels warm to the touch – but my back continues to shiver uncontrollably, as if I am locked in a freezer with no clothes on. The truth is that I remain tightly bundled up under multiple layers of clothing.
Stuck, Lost, And Confused
I spend the afternoon in front of the fire, mostly lying down. Time seems to pass extremely slowly. I am all over the place, outside of time. When I open my eyes, I often see another member of our group squatting in front of the fire. But each time I see him, I wonder if he is real. Often, when I see him, I wonder if I am looping in time, because I seem to be reliving a former visual. I observe him repeatedly moving to the fire and then returning to his own spot across the room. It is profoundly confusing.
Sometimes I see many people in the kitchen, or walking momentarily into the room with the fireplace. But when I briefly close my eyes and open them again, the people are not there. I really am time warping.
I occasionally glance at my watch. An hour seems to take forever.
Soon, I sit up and notice that I feel as if I am “one” with everyone around me, as if we are simply different expressions of each other, as if we literally are each other. In my confusion, another woman from the group signals for me to come over and rest my head on her lap. When I do so, I feel as if there is no boundary between us.
I am so lost, and so FREEZING.
When the woman asks how I am doing, I start to sob as I attempt to explain the confusing cold, and my shivering experiences. I am in my head, trying to understand, trying to figure out what I should be feeling and doing.
I am attempting to surrender to the experience; but I feel stuck, lost, and confused.
Still Freezing
Finally, as I again find myself all alone, another woman enters the room. I get the intuitive sense that I have energetically (at another level) asked her to join and support me. We soon make eye contact.
“I am there for you,” she tells me as our eyes meet.
She sits in front of me and smiles at me whenever I open my eyes. She tells me that just last week, in her first ceremony, she too was overwhelmed with freezing cold. It helps to know that this is energetic, and part of my process. I just wish I understood it.
Every time that I close my eyes, I drift off on a journey. When I open them, this woman is right there smiling at me. It feels like forever.
“Do you want me to stay longer with you,” She asks during one open-eye connection.
I immediately begin to cry as I think about her leaving. She tells me she will stay, and she does so for a very long time.
“Ask your heart what you need,” she encourages me. “Ask huachuma to show you what this freezing is about.”
I try, but I simply cannot find any answers. Instead, I begin to cry again. She stares into my eyes, and as I look back, I see her face changing frequently, as if I am seeing a variety of medicine women at various ages. All of the faces are compassionate, both old and young, both grandmother figures and young girls.
It is a beautiful experience, but I am still freezing.
Searching For Answers
At this point I am across the room from the fire. I think about going back, but I refuse to do so, because I know it will not make any difference.
“I don’t know what to do,” I ask a few people in the room for advice. “Do I just need to surrender to this freezing cold?”
“Yes, that is good,” two people answer me.
“No,” another responds. “You don’t DO it.”
I feel deeply confused, but I kind of understand. I know this is a journey that cannot be “done” … but one which must somehow be “surrendered to” and “allowed”.
But as hard as I focus, I am unable to let go … unable to find warmth and relaxation … and not sure if I am even supposed to.
“There is so much light and energy moving in you,” one woman repeatedly tells me.
I am not quite sure if she can actually see or feel the light in me, or if she is just trying to make me feel better. I am quite lost in the cold and am not feeling much guidance at all. I try to let go and surrender, but I just continue to freeze. And every time that I close my eyes, I drift off into who knows where.
At one point, the second woman holds my hand.
“Wow,” she tells me, “your hands are really hot.”
I find it fascinating to think that my body is hot while I simultaneously feel so cold, but I do believe her. Somehow, this realization actually brings me a measure of emotional comfort, reinforcing to me that the cold I feel is energetic and not physical.
Glowing Compassion
The hours seem to drift by like years. It begins to get dark at around 6:00 p.m., and others soon join us inside by the fireplace. Part of the group, however, stays outside, enjoying a campfire. I want to join them, but don’t even feel that I have the strength to get up.
Paul soon brings me a small bowl of soup. I feel so strange as I begin to eat. I am awkward, having a hard time even being sure where my mouth is. Very carefully, I hold the bowl next to my mouth and gradually spoon the liquid through my lips. As the hot soup goes down my throat, I feel the warmth moving through me, but the sensation is bizarre and unearthly, as if it is not my throat that I am feeling.
When Paul brings more soup, followed by toasted bread with butter and honey, I gobble it all down. I had no idea I was so hungry. But even with the warm food in my belly, I continue to shiver.
Finally, at around 8:00 p.m., I find the strength to stand up and go outside. I do my best to join the conversation around the campfire, and am surprised when at times I have to slow down to wait for my mouth to form the words that I am trying to speak.
I feel a deep loving connection with everyone here. There is such a glowing compassion between us all.
At around 9:30 p.m., a few people leave to walk into town. I consider trying to go with them, but I do not feel ready to make such a long walk. Paul soon gives me more hot tea, and we sit and talk for a long while.
I love Paul’s deeply compassionate way of working with me. The combination of his physical appearance, his voice, and his wizard-like demeanor, all remind me of Gandalf from The Lord of the Rings. As he talks, I have to repeatedly focus on what he is saying in order to not drift away and get lost.
A Long Walk Home
At around 10:20 p.m., I tell Paul that I feel ready to try walking home as soon as I finish my tea. He reassures me that I can sleep near the fire if I want to, and I remind him that I have some kitties that need to be fed.
“Are you sure that you are ready?” Paul double checks with me before I say goodbye.
“Yeah, I can make it,” I reassure him.
I am not fully back into this dimension, and am still a little wobbly, but I want to be in my own bed. I fully trust my guidance, telling me that I will be fine. The long walk seems to take forever, but I also make great time, arriving back at my little house by 11:00 p.m.. After quickly feeding the cats, I crawl into bed and try to rest. But I cannot sleep; I am still freezing.
Eventually I begin to feel warmer and more relaxed, and I manage to drift off to sleep.
Time To Surrender
When I wake up on Thursday morning, I am still feeling some of the energy from the medicine. I am weak and hungry, but only eat bananas and mandarin oranges. I just want to rest in bed. Finally, at around noon, I go out and get a hamburger in town, hoping that the meat will help me to ground myself.
Later, I am still not fully coherent when I cook rice and beans for dinner. When I go to bed at 9:30 p.m., I find myself again shivering in the bone-chilling cold from within. I start to feel lots of fear. As I try to relax, I feel energy shifting in my chest – similar to the sensations of a foot waking up after having had the blood flow restricted. I continue to focus on relaxation as the waking-up energies spread higher into the shoulders.
Still feeling a little fear, I later get up and do a small amount of internet research about Huachuma (San Pedro). After finding that my experience is not an unusual one, I feel much more relaxed and trusting, and I finally fall asleep sometime before midnight.
At around 3:30 a.m. on Friday morning, however, I wake up, again freezing and shivering. Finally, I make another effort to surrender to the cold.
Profound And Beyond Words
I begin to breathe deeply, in a form of deep yogic breathing, while focusing on fully allowing and surrendering to whatever wants to happen. Gradually, I feel energies shift and move in my body, first consuming my heart and shoulder areas. Soon, the energies spread into the arms, then the neck and on to the head and facial regions. Soon, a great deal of beautiful energy radiates throughout my head.
Intuitive clarity tells me that the “freezing cold” is a symptom of the energies that are being worked with inside of my body – of emotional densities being loosened, and of energetic blockages being released and shifted. I somehow know that my breath and focus on relaxation is helping to allow the process to go further, and faster. I am profoundly surprised by how intense the energies continue to be, given that it has been nearly thirty hours since I consumed the medicine.
The meditation is beautiful as I continue to let the energetic vibrations spread throughout my body. The energies come in waves, and are magical.
Finally, while still meditating at 6:00 a.m., I get out of bed to feed the cats, and then lie down again to continue the magic. I soon feel guided to drink a full dose of cacao.
“Wow,” I later write in my journal. “I want to do huachuma again, (if it ever wears off that is, LOL). Something quite profound is happening … beyond words … beyond explanation … beyond understanding … but I know it is shifting my energetic reality in ways that will advance me to a different level.”
Let It Go
On Thursday evening, I receive a Facebook message from my friend Rocio. She asks how my “freezing” is doing, and then sends me a link to a song. I love it so much that I download it from YouTube. I had shivered when I first heard the song while in a Utah theatre back in November 2013, but it now takes on a whole new depth and meaning. It is the song “Let it Go”, from the Disney movie “Frozen”.
While the lyrics do not reflect exactly what is happening with me, they are perfect for me in this moment. It is the story of a young princess with special magic – magic that she had repressed throughout her young life, all in an effort to fit in and not frighten others. As her magic is suddenly and unexpectedly exposed – and as people accuse her of horrible evils – she runs away to the mountains and decides to finally, for the first time in her life, actually embrace who she really is.
If you want to give it a listen, here is the YouTube Link:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YVVTZgwYwVo&app=desktop
And here are the words:
Let It Go
From the Disney movie: Frozen
Sung by: Idina Menzel
The snow glows white on the mountain tonight
Not a footprint to be seen
A kingdom of isolation
And it looks like I’m the queen
The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside
Couldn’t keep it in, Heaven knows I’ve tried
Don’t let them in, don’t let them see
Be the good girl you always have to be
Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know
Well, now they know
Let it go, let it go
Can’t hold it back anymore
Let it go, let it go
Turn away and slam the door
I don’t care what they’re going to say
Let the storm rage on
The cold never bothered me anyway
It’s funny how some distance
Makes everything seem small
And the fears that once controlled me
Can’t get to me at all
It’s time to see what I can do
To test the limits and break through
No right, no wrong, no rules for me, I’m free
Let it go, let it go
I am one with the wind and sky
Let it go, let it go
You’ll never see me cry
Here I’ll stand, and here I’ll stay
Let the storm rage on
My power flurries through the air into the ground
My soul is spiraling in frozen fractals all around
And one thought crystallizes like an icy blast
I’m never going back
The past is in the past
Let it go, let it go
And I’ll rise like the break of dawn
Let it go, let it go
That perfect girl is gone
Here I stand, in the light of day
Let the storm rage on
The cold never bothered me anyway
Grounded And Balanced
Friday morning, as I ponder the four intense ceremonies of this past week and a half, I suddenly remember that I was also deeply “freezing” in two of the three ayahuasca ceremonies.
It becomes obvious to me that both the ayahuasca and the huachuma are working together with me, showing me the freezing cold as a metaphor while helping to open some of the clenched blockages that continue to restrict further energy flow.
After drinking a dose of cacao, I decide to spend the morning sitting in the soothing energy of a radiant sun, playing with the kitties while enjoying the natural warmth that bathes my body. I feel the energy of the cacao, but do not focus on emotional processing. Instead, I just enjoy the energy. Later, as I walk into town for another burger and fries, I bump into Paul Temple at the restaurant. It seems that he is doing another unscheduled huachuma ceremony on Sunday, and I feel excited to participate and take this journey further.
In the afternoon, being much more grounded and balanced, I resume my writing, working on the second blog documenting my three month retreat in Iquitos. Just as I finish the first draft, at around 7:30 p.m., I am suddenly consumed by more freezing shivers. Being unable to find relief, I put on several layers of warm clothing and crawl into bed, shivering with an odd pulsing energy.
Shifting Energies, From Freezing To Sweltering
The energy literally reminds me of one of those pulsing shower heads that shoots out rapid bursts of pressurized water. But this is not energy massaging me from the outside. Instead, it is bombarding me on the inside, and it is freezing cold.
I do not use a watch to measure, but my heart seems to be beating rapidly, at around 130 to 140 beats per minute. Intuitions tell me that all is well, and rather than fighting the experience, I instead breathe deeply into it, not trying to control anything.
Soon, as I place the palm of my hand on my belly and chest areas, I am shocked. My skin is actually quite HOT to the touch, even though I continue to shiver with intense freezing cold.
Eventually, I fall asleep and get a few hours of much needed rest. When I suddenly wake up at around 11:30 p.m., I am shocked by how I am now extremely hot and flushed, as if I were sitting in a furnace. In fact, my face feels as if it might be red and sunburned. Over the next fifteen minutes, I remove all layers of extra clothing, leaving only my pajamas.
“Did the temperature in the house suddenly shift?” I ponder with a giggle.
“I don’t think so,” I answer my own question. “This is just the energies playing with me.”
I soon notice that when I breathe deeply, doing so with mindful presence, that I start to feel quite hot. Then, if I stop, I begin to feel much cooler. I remember stories that I have heard about how some people are able to generate body heat through meditation. I know that this is what is happening to me right now.
Spinal Densities
As I ponder on my pillow, strong intuitions tell me that ever since the ceremony on Wednesday I have been releasing energetic blockages from my back – releasing energies from my spine behind the heart and solar plexus regions. I remember how, in the late 1990s, a chiropractor had told me that in many ways, my spine was like “concrete”. It is now obvious to me that that I have been harboring a huge amount of emotional density in this region, and that the huachuma has been helping me to release much of it.
My logical mind wants to question and analyze these insights, but the intuitions are clear, and I trust them.
Finally, sleep again consumes me, also bringing a series of very weird dreams. I feel as if I really am in a different reality.
Trusting My Heart
On Saturday, May 17, 2014, I get up early, feeling energized and inspired. I spend much of the day finishing, editing, and publishing “An Ayahuasca Healing Adventure – Part 2” – fully enjoying the magical integration that always happens when I go back in time to write about past experience. As usual, the process of writing is quite profound.
As the day nears completion, I am excited about the prospect of continuing my mysterious journey with huachuma. As I ponder tomorrow’s pending ceremony, I wonder if this “freezing journey” will continue, or if I will be taken in another direction.
The only thing I know for sure is that I feel a strong affinity with the medicine. I do not yet fully understand (at a mental level) what has happened this week, but intuitions tell me that it is all quite profound, and that I need to go deeper.
At this point in my journey, I feel quite content in simply trusting my heart and intuitions. And I am not the least bit concerned about the possibility of freezing, yet again.
Copyright © 2014 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved