Noetic Justice.
Rx:
Trade Name: Soul-Aid
Generic: Ayahuasca
Disp: One shot
Directions: Take one shot prn to shine a light on your shadow side.
Refills: If you can hear the call for the second cup and you can get up to get it: have another.
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I drank ayahuasca for four consecutive nights at Rhythmia, a life advancement center, in Costa Rica, during a viral pandemic. I’m a happily married, middle aged parent and physician who has been working non-stop, for over a year, in every possible capacity, in the fight against COVID-19. I decided to drink ayahuasca to help me heal the many issues I have been struggling with throughout my life, the ones I was aware of as well as those that remained repressed and encased in the fortress of my cranium. I also pursued this plant because the COVID-19 pandemic has guided me down a different path, that of psychedelic therapy. I’ve learned that wounded healers need to address their own injuries in order to provide their patients with the best possible care.
COVID changed the way I practice infectious disease(ID) and I’m suffering from burn out like many colleagues. I am currently enrolled in a year long training course in psychedelic-assisted therapy and one lecturer in particular encouraged participants to experience these powerful healing medicines for themselves. This, as you can imagine, is very different from my position as an ID physician, as we don’t typically start an IV and run vancomycin through our veins for learning purposes.
Nearly fifty of us gathered at Rythmia to drink these plants in the maloka under the close watch of several shaman and their devout assistants all dressed in ceremonial clothes with colorful beads, shells and bells that jingled when they walked. People came from all over the world, Russia, Slovakia, England, Ireland, etc. There were people in their 20s- their late 60s, an even mixture of men and women.
The maloka is a sacred ceremonial space where music, that appeared not of this earth, filled the beautiful room as did the copal smoke from a pot carried around by the shaman. The setting sun was easily observed from the windows that bounded the room. The tropical plants swayed in the soft welcomed breeze whose whisper you could hear through these open windows. Mattresses lined the floor of the maloka. At each persons mattress was a pillow, blanket, roll of toilet paper and a bucket, to puke in. Ayahuasca is a purgative. Often resulting in vomiting, diarrhea, crying, or yawning. The thought is, you purge you merge, your soul that is. The purging is healing. The lights are low. No food after 2 pm.
Night 1
Start Time: 5:30 pm
End Time: 2:30 am
Intention: Show me who I have become.
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It was the first night of ceremony and everyone in the room was excited, yet nervous. We were told Ayahuasca can be unpredictable. Set your intentions, we were instructed. Show me who I have become is a common intention set on the first night. Chanting took over. The shamans had specific prayers for the Ayahuasca before they were able to offer it to the participants. After the chanting was finished we formed two lines and each received a shot glass full of brown liquid. Once we reached the front of the line we whispered our intentions into the cup. The soul-aid tastes like pachamama herself, Mother Earth, like a bitter molasses mixed with dirt and river water. We each slugged back our serving of this plant brew from Brazil and headed for our mattresses. Waiting. What was she going to do? Ayahuasca is female. Would I see god? Or my ancestors? Have alien surgery? Was I the victim of horrible trauma and repressed it all these years? About 30 mins after drinking the retching began. I heard the men start vomiting first. It wasn’t typical vomiting. It was a purging from deep within, from the core of their being. It was so loud, at times it sounded as if it was a part of the music. Then the crying. The cries were of an inexplicable sadness. A cry from the earth’s center. This too was so loud. My stomach started to rumble. I became increasingly nauseous. I vomited. I cried. I cried hard. I began rocking back and forth. I was so restless and couldn’t get comfortable no matter how I positioned myself. I began to wonder what the fuck I was doing there. I’m going to die. I’m leaving my three children motherless. Wow, I’m so damaged. How did I get so desperate? I felt as if I was having a panic attack. My chest hurt, I felt short of breath. I was crying uncontrollably. I looked in the bucket as I puked and asked “show me who I have become.” As I hurled I felt like the sewer clowns from Steven King’s “It” were about to talk back from the depths of my vomit pool. Needless to say, I didn’t like this. I started to have thoughts about where my life has taken me and the wife and mother I have become. I wasn’t the worst, but I was far from proud. The chest pain was so intense. I couldn’t shut off my doctor brain. I couldn’t trust the medicine of Ayahuasca and I fought her all night long. I had to go outside. The restlessness was unrelenting. I grabbed my bucket. I puked intermittently. I could hardly walk. An assistant came to me and set up a blanket for me under the stars. I laid there and I wailed. I cried so hard. A woman came to me. She was another guest at Rythmia, like myself. She sat with me. She hugged me as she said “so much sadness”. Then I was alone again. Constantly moving, writhing. I then laid on my abdomen in a cobra position and reared up as this snake took over my body. Ayahuasca is a snake. A feminine snake. And just as quickly as she took over me the light and color drained out from this snake body and it died. A dramatic Disney like death. I took this to be the death of my ego. My ego was dying all night. I began to think of my mother whom I haven’t spoken to in years. Then as I laid there, being tended to with potions and solutions and feathers of the shamans, I soon felt the souls of many female ancestors leave my womb. I wailed and wailed as they left my body. I felt that I carried these women with me and they were finally being freed by this medicine. What the fuck? No one told me about this. I’m crazy. We are all crazy. Crazy and desperate. How sad I thought. I was fighting all night. I was fighting Ayahuasca. I found myself lying on my blanket with my fists up in a fighting position. It hurt so badly. Emotionally and physically. I kept battling. I soon found myself in an army crawl. My ego wouldn’t give up. It died and was resurrected many times during the night. I kept thinking about my daughters and I just kept fighting. It was a Vale Tudo match, an unarmed, full contact combat face off between Ayahuasca and my ego and it was intense. As awful as this night seemed it wasn’t all terrible as this night I forgave my mother. It came to me that she had her own childhood trauma that impacted her development and subsequent ability to parent me. I somehow found forgiveness. Then I saw myself as an 8 year old child. She was in Native American attire and had a bow and arrow. This was my inner child. She has been a warrior for me since I was a kid. My protector. I enjoyed seeing her. I wanted her to know she can put down the weapons. She didn’t have to fight for me anymore. But she wouldn’t put them down. Not yet. I wanted to go home. The night came to a close. I felt retched. Back at my room I was trying to think of an excuse to leave. I had chest tightness all night. Others had amazing experiences of alien journeys and seeing ancestors. I was blown away by their stories. People on Ayahuasca can learn they were abused as children. I didn’t know this was something that could come up here. I was afraid. I only drank one cup.
Night 2
Start Time: 5:30 pm
End Time: 2:30 am
Intention: Show me how to trust.
After my previous night it became apparent that I didn’t trust Ayahuasca and I probably didn’t trust anyone. Interestingly, the night before I left for Costa Rica my grandmother, stepmother and sister all sat with me after dinner around our dining room table. They wanted me to get the most out of my experience so they shared with me that they each thought that I didn’t trust women. When they told me this I had never felt more misunderstood. I walked away from that dinner feeling confused and angry that my own family didn’t know me. After struggling all night during my first ceremony, the next night I decided to ask Aya to show me how to trust. This night we drank Brad’s Brew, an Ayahuasca made by Brad, one of the Shaman at Rythmia. There are no words to describe Brad. It’s like he’s not even human. He’s a perfect mixture of a human, plant and animal. A magnificent species that just takes your breath away. I got online for my cup. I conveyed my intention and went to my mattress. Just breathe I said to myself. It’s ok. About 30 mins later I puked. Then I was a baby in my crib. I could hear the ooh and ahh of my parents. I cried because I could hear/feel they loved me. Then the moaning started. The woman next to me was moaning, seemingly very loudly. Then it began to make me wonder why I was hearing moaning as I was a baby in a crib. I couldn’t enjoy the vision I was having of my parents due to this troubling moaning. I began to wonder if I was molested. I couldn’t understand why I kept hearing loud moans and why it bothered me to my core. Just breathe. It’s ok. Ayahuasca’s vines grew within my veins. I didn’t fight her this night. I let her in to treat me. To help me treat me. I assumed my ego lost the previous nights battle. I soon saw an injured horse. I was standing over it with a gun for the kill shot. Just as I was about to pull the trigger I stopped. I realized I didn’t have to take the life of this creature. I can help heal it’s broken leg. I’m a healer. This was making sense. The music raged on. It felt as if I was in a wrinkle in time. The music was hard at times, like a tripped out carnival, screeching, with rapidly changing colors and scenery. I soon, however, found myself in the pit of despair. Dante’s Inferno in the depths of hell. It seemed as if there was constant moaning and orgies. I heard the retching and puking and crying so loudly in my ears. Then the chanting became louder. The shamans were stomping on the ground. The music was dark and deep. I felt as if the death brigade was approaching. I went outside with my blanket and my puke bucket. The shamans were helping me again. I couldn’t get comfortable. I was so nauseous. I wasn’t able to look up at the stars. I kept my head down. I felt like a coward. Like I wasn’t good enough. I think I fought my whole life because I felt this way. I always had to be the best. I went back inside and soon enough I began to feel better and the discomfort became less noticeable. I was finally able to get off my mattress again. I went outside and paced by the fireplace, which was a large gorgeous fire pit referred to as grandfather fire. Grandfather fire is a place you can go and ditch negative thoughts in. I dumped mine there. I saw the beautiful white hammocks in the distance. I wanted to walk to one, but I was afraid. They seemed so far away and unreachable. I was worried if I made it that I would fall off or it would collapse. I then found myself walking slowly in the darkness. I passed by a young woman who was sitting in the grass talking to herself. I found a hammock, I sat on it with my feet in the dirt connecting to the earth. I smiled. I then got into the hammock. First with one leg hanging out like the boy in jungle book. Then I was soon fully cradled. Held. I thought of my children and their love for our hammock at home. I smiled as I rocked. Then the girl in the grass began to vomit. Then cry. I felt her pain. I went inside. Inside the moaning grew louder. The sounds of the vomiting seemed constant. Ayahuasca is like a roller coaster with continuous ups and downs. Lifelike. All of the sudden I felt as if I was being held by mother Ayahuasca. I was a kid hiding behind her, comforted and comfortable, untouchable. Soon a pinkish-whitish light opened above my chest, like 80’s neon in color. I then saw my 8 year old warrior inner child again. Then the light faded and my child self was no longer visible. It became apparent to me that she went home. My soul was merged. Thoughts of Laura, the 4 year old child with cancer that I cared for in my teens, entered my mind. Followed by thoughts of my daughters, my sister, stepmother and grandmother. I was soon overwhelmed with immense love and healing. I interpreted this as heal my heart, another recommended intention at Rythmia. I had a gentle night, compared to night 1, but after hearing other people’s stories I became envious that I didn’t have a robotic surgery or see god. I was hoping the next time I would find clarity. I only drank one cup and I knew I needed two next time. This night I learned that not only did I not trust women, but I didn’t trust anyone.
Night 3
Start Time: 5:30 pm
End Time: 2:30 am
Intention: Show me why the moaning bothers me and give me clarity. So far, on the first two nights, I was incredibly uncomfortable with the moaning of others. My mind had taken over and I became incredibly fearful that I may have been abused when I was young. I had never thought I was before this experience, but I was open to learning if it happened and I repressed it. I wanted to face and then release this if it had occurred. I wanted to move forward instead of being held back by that demon. Ayahuasca seems to be very effective at revealing memories of childhood trauma. This night was women’s night. A celebration of women and their divinity. It was another type of Ayahuasca from Brazil. After we gathered in a circle for preparation before ceremony, I walked back to my mattress, stepped on a bee and got stung. I was so upset. I ran to one of the assistants… my doctor brain was kicking in. Maybe I’m allergic. Maybe I will have anaphylactic shock while on Ayahuasca and I shouldn’t do it. The medic met me outside. I felt forces were trying to get in my way of me drinking the medicine. I never believed in forces or spirits or gods of any kind for the record. Not only did I not believe, but I looked down on those who did. Without proof I couldn’t believe. I said to the assistant, what should I do? She looked at me and said “make this a part of your journey.” So I did. After confirming I had normal vital signs and no severe allergic reaction seemed imminent I went back inside and got online for my drink. I downed a shot and went to my mattress. Let’s do this. Soon I found myself being operated on by robots. They went to work on my teeth. It didn’t hurt. It was uncomfortable and I was lying there with my mouth open like I would in the dentists chair. What were they working on exactly? After they were done I called them back and pointed to my teeth for them to fix a cap, I knew I needed more work done, apparently. Then Ayahuasca herself operated on my brain… the beautiful feminine snake and she let me assist. We were doing a controlectomy (removing my control) and it was fucking incredible. My whole life I have been trying to control anything and everything presented to me. This has impacted friendships, family relationships and my marriage. It has also greatly affected my parenting style. After my teeth and my brain, my chest was then cracked open — further resecting my control centers. I felt so light. Soon after this many women in my life began to come to me. I saw who needed help. Family and friends. Some men too, but mostly women. I saw them in Dante’s inferno and it was obvious they needed Ayahuasca. That night I learned that the fact that I had to undergo three non-elective c-sections bothered and hurt me and I never dealt with those emotions. I never addressed my feelings regarding not being able to have vaginal deliveries. I’m the type of woman who would squat and give birth in the woods. I repressed this and it came out after drinking Ayahuasca. Someone very dear to me approached me in this vision. In real life she wasn’t able to have her own children. In that maloka that night I left my body and gave it to her to have her own child. I learned or confirmed I’m an empath. I was bound to the mattress at times by my arms. I don’t yet know what this was about. It felt like I was on a cross, but I’m not sure. I felt called to the bathroom to meet Mary/ Day of the Dead. Judgement vibes. The feeling in the red lit bathroom was dark and I felt I was to be shown something when I went inside. She didn’t show me anything. But I didn’t like being in there. I was afraid I was going to get raped or something terrible would happen. But then I reminded myself that all the people there were guardian angels that I could trust and all they cared about was us healing. Guardian angels were a total joke to me before I came here.
In my journey I saw my sister with a broken wing and she needed help but I couldn’t do any more to help her. It became obvious she needed to come do the work herself. I kept turning toward her to help. A distant memory came forward where we were in sleep away camp and she was homesick. The counselors came to me and asked me to go visit her. It hadn’t even occurred to me to visit her. We sat in the back of her bunk. She had on her feetie pajamas and was crying that she missed home. I sat with her and we laughed together. I soon remembered how I carry guilt for being a shitty sister. It seemed everyone in the room was working together to heal each other. They danced, they cried, they puked and yawned as a machine in unison with a common goal. I got a download. All of the sudden I felt a computer come up behind me and download information into my body. I didn’t feel comfortable with a direct download to the motherboard (maybe I had some control left) and was able to negotiate for a thumb drive of sorts. I still don’t know what information I was given. I learned about The Consumption. The Consumption is the opposite of the light and life of Ayahuasca. It’s the evil, the media, the big pharma, the mass production of animal meat, the drugs and booze and strippers and porn, and big box stores, the corruption… it’s all that is wrong with the world. I learned that in order to live in the light it will be a constant fight against The Consumption. It will always be there. I must find balance. It became even more obvious to me that our prison system couldn’t be further from what these tortured souls need. They are hurting like all of us. They need to heal themselves. These are humans that we lock up with their sadness and darkness and we give them no light or love. Just bars and walls and we perpetuate the evil. This is a part of The Consumption. I walked out of the maloka that night with immense feelings of gratitude and love. I left that room in love with every person in it, including myself. The trusted shamans and their helpers. The other people there on this journey with me looking for answers and healing. Most of the night I watched my neighbor cry and puke. I was so happy for him that he was getting it all out. So so so happy. I just lied their watching him. I wasn’t molested, at least that didn’t come up. I felt like I got the jack pot bonus round this night. Many people have to ask Aya to show them what they should do with their lives. She showed me without asking. She showed me that I need to continue to pursue my path in psychedelic therapy and ultimately provide it to people who can’t afford it. I didn’t puke but had aggressive diarrhea x 2. I drank 1 and a half cups.
Night 4 Yage Colombian Ayahuasca
Start Time: 7:30 pm
End Time: 12:00 pm (yes, noon)
Intention: Show me how to remain in the light after I leave here.
This night we drank a thick brew from Colombia under the watch of Shaman Mitri. He’s an Israeli who looks like my cousin Larry’s twin, handsome, bald with a lot of jewelry. Yage, is known to be an intense purgative, yet I didn’t puke. I took a swig from my cup and laid on my mattress. I picked the mattress next to the Shaman Chris. I felt protected and watched sitting close to him. I began to hear my stomach rumble. Never trust a Yage fart my brother once told me. I sat up. I felt fucked up…. wobbly and unsteady and worried I wouldn’t make it to the bathroom. I put my glasses on and sat there. Chris looked at me. He said “do you need to go to the bathroom?” He walked me there, waited for me outside the bathroom and walked me back. The shaman are there for you. They take a little Ayahuasca as well. They have drank these plants so many times. They know how to navigate them. I had a very gentle evening minus the explosive diarrhea. I fell asleep for a few hours and at times I felt bound to the bed at my arms. I enjoyed the chanting. There seemed to be less crying in the room compared to previous nights. People were dancing. There was a lot of puking. The shamans created healing circles and spent so much time individually healing each and every person in that room. They chanted for each of us. Skipping no one. That night Aya showed me that in order to remain in the light I must become the light. Ayahuasca taught me that we all have baggage. Some were the victims of inexplicable trauma and some got off easier, but it doesn’t matter the depth of your grievance. We are all living with repressed emotions and deep rooted torment, but Ayahuasca can help a lot of people heal this past. She brings balance and shines a light on the darkest places in us all. The people I met on this journey will be with me everyday, even if we never chat again. These light workers and light warriors will continue the fight for the light against The Consumption. Yes, I just said that.
Since I’ve been back:
I used to not be able to listen to “sad” emotion invoking music. I would leave the room or ask people to change the song. If I had to listen it would make me cringe and cry in misery. Now I can listen. I don’t leave the room. I cry when I want to and I’m present. There in the moment. I enjoy the music. I used to sit and watch my children swim. I would never go in and play in the water with them. Now I swim with my children, not only that, but I do a running jump into the water. Now I color with them. During my journey with Ayahuasca I saw myself in my bedroom playing on my phone while my husband watched movies with my kids in the other room. I saw myself put my hand in my kids face while they interrupted me as I prioritized work over them. Now I can hear them. It’s like I have been reset. Reprogrammed. Maybe that’s what the download was. I am re-introducing them to nature. She was always there, but we lost her somehow. We hug trees. Yup. That’s a real thing. I used to just stand there as our lives went by. Now I’m in it. I’m fully in it and it’s fucking great. I’ve realized that my inner child is the 8 year old kid that was sent to sleepaway camp for 8 weeks without knowing a single person. If you asked me about sleepaway camp before I went to Rythmia I would have told you it was the best thing that ever happened to me as a youth. What actually happened was very different and now I’m familiar with the story. When I was younger, my home life was full of verbal abuse. My parents constantly screamed at one another. It was a loveless house. My family sent me to sleepaway camp for 8 weeks when I was 8 years old. Now I clearly remember sitting on the bunk porch feeling sad and alone. Sure I didn’t like being home, but I definitely didn’t like feeling abandoned. I felt I was on my own. Going to sleepaway camp is a privilege, but if you’re a kid feeling pushed out of an abusive house to a place where you don’t know a single person, it can be very scary. Hence, a bully was born. When I came home from Rythmia I sat in the woods with my three daughters who were all about to go off to sleepaway camp. I explained to them what I learned about myself and my experience and I reminded them they are not being pushed out, we want them home, but we want them to have the choice to go away to camp if that’s what they wanted. This was an incredible take away from my journey at Rythmia, one that greatly impacted myself and my children and further reinforced my support of plant medicine. Rythmia refers to the expected life changing events that occur there as miracles. Miracles were never something I subscribed to but now I’m a full blown missionary. Intention deficit disorder has reached global pandemic proportions. It’s time to get to work.
