You can only save ONE of these three people (who would you choose?)
Lessons from my first Ayahuasca ceremony
It was 2013, and I had just moved to Boulder, CO, a few months before from New York City. KB and headed west with a insanely packed car (KB’s meticulous packing skills definitely paid off), without jobs, and a lot of trust that things would somehow work out.
I had never done drugs other than alcohol and smoked pot twice with not awesome outcomes, but when my friend Eve told me about something called Ayahuasca, I knew in my gut I would try it. I was desperate for healing, and this sounded like something that could get me real results. I was also terrified. Why I had stayed away from drugs in the first place were:
My family’s history of mental illness, and I was scared that doing drugs might trigger something bad
I was terrified of not being in control
What made me think I could do it is that the Shaman/Curandero facilitating it was respected by several of the veteran healer people I’d met in Boulder, some of those men would be there chaperoning the event, and both my best friend at the time and my husband would be there. I felt a call that I should be there, and as usual, I listened to that gut voice.
Up the mountain to meet Grandmother Ayahuasca
At about 6 pm, we drove 25 minutes up the mountain to where the overnight journey would take place. It was winter, and the snow was glimmering white on the ground and trees.
The building we arrived at had a big open room with yoga mats and blankets lining all the walls, and the setup for the Shaman and his helpers were in the middle of one of the longer walls facing the woods. Many of the cool Boulder people I’d met over the past months were there. Dressed in yoga clothes, loose shawls, hemp shirts, and the women wearing feather earrings, about 25 people were lounging around in small groups. A sweet scent I’d come to know as Sage and Palo Santo filled the slightly cold air. A fire was crackling in a wood stove. The ceremony was starting soon, around 9 pm, and I was both excited and terrified.
I picked the spot between KB and Eve and sat down. I saw the two helpers, Douglas and Jeremy, talking in the corner. Douglas was an incredible healer in his 60s, and Jeremy was a world-renowned cancer Doctor. Seeing Douglas throw his head of white curls back and let out his big laugh made me feel safe. I waved at him, and he gave me a big smile. (Both of these men are dead now and so very missed. Bless you both from my heart).
It was time for the ceremony to get started.
We all sat down in anticipation and looked over at the place where the Shaman was settling in. To the right of him, a wonderful woman named Harmony was sitting cross-legged and smiling at us all. To the left sat a young man, blonde, thin, wearing John Lennon-looking glasses. I remember thinking that he looked way out of place where he was sitting next to the Shaman, and he was smirking kind of annoyingly.
Let the journey begin
The Curandero was a dark-haired man from Columbia. He spoke in a deep voice that was both soothing and commanding. He explained the process. First, we would all stand in one line to drink the medicine, then we would all lie down in our spots. After that, he would sing the traditional healing songs from the rainforest that would aid us on our healing journey. At some point in the night, we would do a “water ceremony.” We were instructed not to drink anything else or eat anything during the journey. We were also told not to communicate with the other participants we were all supposed to have our own individual experience and not disrupe the others. At some point in the early morning, we would do a “Limpia” – a cleansing ritual which would denote the ending of the ceremony. We would then participate in integration time and share what we had experienced with one another. Finally, we would have breakfast together. Some common symptoms of the cleansing of the medicine were puking, shitting, and vivid hallucinations. We were given buckets that we would all use for throwing up and shown the bathroom we’d potentially shit our brains out. I looked over at KB, and he didn’t look thrilled about hearing about this part.
The Medicine
As I was standing in the line behind my husband to go take the medicine, I was shaking with nervousness. Everything inside of me told me, “Run, don’t do it, it’s too dangerous!” but I pressed on. When I was finally standing in front of the Shaman, looking into his eyes and the cup with strange brown goo that he was holding out at me, a deep calm came over me. I felt like I’d done this before and bravely took the ceramic cup and brought it to my lips, and drank every last drop of the liquid. It had a distinct taste. Kind of sticky sweet, a little pruny, herbal, and sort of earthy. Eve had warned me about the flavor in advance, so I expected it to be disgusting. But I actually quite enjoyed it.
I went back to my yoga mat, laid down between KB and Eve, and pulled my blankets up all the way under my chin. I was wondering when the medicine was going to kick in.
I had loved the Shaman’s speech. He had told us that their name for the medicine other than Ayahuasca was “Grandmother.” Given my own traumatic history with my grandmother, I was excited to get in contact with the spirit of the Amazon jungle in the form of an old, wise, powerful woman. I waited, yearned, for her to come to visit me and tell me what I needed to do to heal. I wondered what it would feel like when the medicine finally kicked in. And then suddenly, I didn’t have to wait any longer. I felt my awareness slide down, which felt like a slide inside a dark tunnel, and my consciousness began to warp and spin and bright colors were dancing inside me.
Scene 1 - You can only save one
Now, we get to the tricky part. And I will risk trying to paint you a picture of the most striking parts of my journey without it being like the painful experience of someone telling you their dream…you know what I mean.
Grandmother has me in an energetic death grip. She’s showing me one of my most pervasive codependent patterns. I’m shown person after person that I’ve tried to “help” by inserting myself as the savior, solution, or Bandaid. I see that by focusing on the other’s needs, I’ve stumped their growth, and in actuality, I’ve prolonged their suffering instead of helping them. One situation after another, in a seemingly endless stream of me fixing, helping, and supporting others, and how this in TRUTH hasn’t been helpful. The experience morphs. Now I’m acutely aware of my best friend struggling on my left and my husband hurting on my right. I can tell that he’s having a miserable time. I see the three of us from above, me in the middle in agonizing pain.
Grandmother’s message is clear:
In this life, you can only save ONE.
Who is it going to be?
The realization pierces the core of my being.
The only one I CAN save in this life. Is me.
Scene 2 - The switch
I’m suffering. Every part of me hurts physically, emotionally, psychologically, and energetically. I lie there writhing in agony for what feels like an eternity. I’m shaking. I’m sweating. In the periphery of my consciousness, people are throwing up in their buckets. At some point, the Shaman is standing over me I hear his song, and I can feel its impact. He’s waving feathers over my hurting body. As he moves on, I gather all my strength to crawl to the bottom of my mat and signal to Dr. Jeremy to come over. I shakily take his hand and whisper, “How long is this going to take?” asking when my pain will be over. He looks back at me and asks, “Yes, Karna. When will this be over?”.
At that moment, I realize I have a CHOICE!
Suddenly everything switches and pure warmth and peace wash over my whole being! Jeremy smiles and lets go of my hand, and walks away. Then, it switches back again to pain. Then, to peace. And then, I switch back and forth a few times until I get the hang of choosing the bliss state. After many grueling hours, my journey changed, and suddenly, a new kind of heaven opens up.
Scene 3 - Water as Life
It’s time for the water ceremony. I once again sit at the edge of my mat. I have to walk over to a glass bowl to drink. Walking takes a lot of concentration. I’m finally standing in front of the bowl and slowly pour myself a glass of water. I see the light reflecting in the shimmering fluid. It’s painfully beautiful. I stare at it for many seconds, mesmerized. I feel like I’m about to drink liquid diamonds. The pleasure consumes me as I feel the velvet, coolness pour over my lips, tongue, and down my throat. I close my eyes with the blissful sensation. I’m taking in life. Water is everything. The gratitude envelops me like a blanket of clouds.
I can feel the water molecules entering my bloodstream, I sense a cellular connection between me and all other life forms and plants on the earth through WATER.
I sink into belonging through water, and I rest in the calm joy of holy aquatic communion.
Often during these types of ceremonies, you’re not supposed to move or leave the room. But my body needs to twirl and move, so I meander outside into the star and moonlight. I let my body lose, and it feels like I’m moving in Matrix speed and style. I’m twirling, and the stars descend upon me. It’s fucking glorious. I have no clue how long I was out there dancing – possibly eons – but somehow, at some point, I find my way back inside.
The lesson from Grandmother
The night is giving way to morning, and it’s time for the final cleansing ritual. We sit down in the lotus position on the floor while one of the helpers takes Agua de Florida (a flowery-smelling water) in his mouth and sprays it over my face and body. A part of me feels a bit weirded out by this young guy spitting on me, but I roll with it because I’m so blissed out at this point, that everything appears tinted with a golden hue, and I want to stay in its warmth forever.
The ceremony is mostly over, minus the sharing circle at the end, which is lovely and intimate.
The Curandero reminds us.
As this ceremony is now over, the real journey begins.
The one where we get to integrate what we have been shown into our regular life.
It’s a sobering thought.
I didn’t end up puking and pooping (this time), but I am feeling clear, lighter, and renewed. Grandmother Ayahuasca revealed her infinite wisdom to me, and I leave knowing that I am forever changed.
Is Ayahuasca for me?
Do I think Ayahuasca is for everyone? Hell no! This is incredibly potent medicine, and as such, in the wrong or inexperienced hands, it can go terribly wrong. I know people who feels like it’s ruined their life. I also know many people, like myself, for whom this medicine has been instrumental in moving through personal, collective, and ancestral trauma.
There are also appropriation issues, charlatans, and problems surrounding brining the Ayahuasca tradition here to the US. This article is my favorite for understanding the many facets of the practices, Ayahuasca tourism and beyond. I never thought I would see a day when someone on the Bachelor Franchise would talk about Ayahuasca, but last week it happened, and it spawned me writing this whole thing.
I’ve included helpful links for those who want to know more about the potential benefits and dangers of this practice. I have to this day sat in three separate ceremonies, and they have unequivocally changed me and my inner world for the better. But I encourage you to be very discerning on your own path with this medicine because at the end of the day: YOU are the medicine. (Ro Marlen)
What are you think about all this? Tell me in the comments or write me back.
Big blessings 💜
Karna
🎊 HAPPY ANNIVERSARY! 🎉
October marked ONE year of Unfolding on Substack and this is the 40th article!
I am so happy and proud that I have been able to sustain this writing practice for over a year and I am excited for what’s to come.
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Happy writing anniversary!! Way to show up. Great storytelling. I love getting to see what you share here.
Wow, what an experience! Thanks so much for sharing this. I've always been curious about ayahuasca and you write about your experience in such a vivid, wonderful way.