IV.II.VIII – One With Nature
IV.II.VIII
ONE WITH NATURE
From fishing for piranhas to ziplining over treetops, from drinking from vines to swimming with pink dolphins (yep, we did end up finding a couple at the end!), adventures in the Amazon seem to be never ending. And so it was only fitting that my final adventure would be one that would bring everything to a full 360 – the ayahuasca ceremony.
Ayahuasca is a brew made from the vine Banisteriopsis caapi and a plant called chacruna amongst others. The brew contains dimethyltryptamine, a psychoactive substance more commonly known as DMT. This potion is used by shamans during a spiritual ceremony to cleanse and purify oneself. Literally, due to its emetic and purgative properties, and figuratively from a spiritual point of view. Some would go on week-long retreats and go on all kinds of cleansing diets prior to what they hope to be a life-changing experience, whilst others (like the undersigned) would just go for a single session in order to try it out.
Prior to the ceremony, my own personal shaman briefed me on what to expect during the ritual (how cool is it that I can actually say I had my own personal shaman huh?). I’d probably be vomiting my guts out but that’s okay because it means all the negative emotions and energy stored within me are being released. I’d probably be crapping my pants but that’s okay because these things happen, and they’d be there to help me clean the mess (so very reassuring). I’d also be having all kinds of spiritual revelations about myself, the universe and whatever else is out there. Some have seen the past, some the present, some the future. Some spoke to god, some to the earth.
Now I don’t know about you but I’m quite the cynic. I don’t believe in the metaphysical. I don’t believe in energy or souls or karma or magic.
I also don’t believe in the existence of god. The only thing that stops me from saying I’m an atheist is that science cannot prove the inexistence of god which I guess makes me agnostic. Also, philosophically speaking, if science were to ever prove the existence of god, such an event would preclude the discovered thing from being considered as such, given that the definition of ‘god’ implies that they are immaterial and thus cannot be measured. Phew, I’m winded, what a mouthful huh?
As such I don’t believe in this one omnipotent, omnipresent and omniscient entity that is said to be the ruler of everything and everyone. Be that as it may, I’d like to think that if there is indeed a god somewhere out there; one that is to judge me and possibly send me to a designated afterlife once I’m done with this one, my uninfluenced actions would have counted just the same as those that would have otherwise been done to earn a place in the kingdom of heaven. I’d like to think that dedicating my life to saving lives or being a generally good person would count at least as much as going to mass or sacrificing a virgin on bank holidays. My point? That since the existence or inexistence of god does not influence my actions, the existence or inexistence of god is of no consequence to me personally. Also that I have no qualms with those who do; or those who refer to the universe or the big bang or whatever it is that came before it as ‘god’. To me it’s just semantics. Holy hell, now this was a tangent huh?
I think I felt the need to ramble on about this is to show you that cynical though I might be, I still think there’s a place for spirituality in life. To me, the mind and the brain may be one and the same but it doesn’t mean I cannot tap into my inner consciousness to find out more about myself and everything around me. Our consciousness is made up of different levels which hold information gathered by all our senses throughout our entire lives. Now some of these levels are easily accessible, say by actively thinking or recalling a memory. Others might need more of a push. Like for example meditation or hypnosis. Or, more on the hardcore side, something that alters the way our brain functions. Psychoactive compounds found in certain drugs, lack of oxygen in near-death experiences and so on and so forth.
It’s still all very physical and scientific; a multitude of biological and chemical pathways that converge to give the individual a spiritual experience. Putting all this down to a supernatural event is frankly an easy way out to me. Just because technology hasn’t yet caught up to identifying the individual physical pathways doesn’t mean there isn’t a physical reason behind something.
And so, regardless of my beliefs or lack thereof, and without taking away any of the magic of the world we live in, I try to not close my mind off to such experiences. I braced myself for an experience which would alter my state of mind and potentially lead me to enlightenment or possibly mental disarray. I wondered what hallucinations I might get to have. My god, imagine I’d get to see my dad or hear his voice again! Even if it would be just a figment of my imagination; a memory unearthed from my subconscious. He’d been dead only two years, but it felt kinda like he never existed in the first place. It had been so long since I could picture his face or remember his voice. That was all I could think of before the ceremony. Not the vomiting or the crapping my pants. Nothing else but the hope of getting to see him once again.
It was finally time. The sun had set, everyone had gone to sleep, and it was finally time for the ceremony. In the dead of night, I walked to the cabin where the shaman and my guide were waiting for me in total darkness.
I lied down on some cushions and the shaman explained the whole thing once again. By that time, my eyes had finally acclimatised to the void surrounding us. Right in front of me was the shaman in his ceremonial robes, sitting on a low-lying chair in front of a table with various bottles and bowls. On his right was my guide lying on a hammock. I was handed a cup full of a dark, vile fluid – the infamous ayahuasca. Finally. I took a mouthful and gulped it down. The most bitter and acidic tasting thing I had every put in mouth. Yuck! I could have easily retched just from the aftertaste. But I didn’t. I held on. I braced myself and kept it down. Then the shaman took the cup and downed the remainder. I laid back, closed my eyes and started to concentrate on my breathing.
In and out. In. Out. Iiiin. And ouuut. In… Out… The rustling of the leaves. The whooshing of the wind. I was starting to become one with the jungle. I was almost one with the jungle. Until my guide started snoring that is. “It’s okay, I’ll focus on my breathing and start over”. I started all over. In and out, in and out. Almost one with the jungle again. There I was. My psyche, my chakras, my energy, all out in the open, ready to merge with the rest of the universe. And almost as if on cue, the shaman takes out his shapaca; a glorified bundle of leaves and sticks and starts rustling like there’s no tomorrow. It brought me right back to the material world which was now brought to life by his voice as he started chanting:
“Du rai ra ra, du rai ra ra,
Muchas gracias energia,
Energia del agua,
Energia de la tierra,
Muchas gracias ayahuasca,
Buenas noches,
Du rai ra ra, du ru ru ru.”
This was repeated an infinity of times, over and over, with this whistling whooshy sound after every stanza. But it was kinda okay, I guess? In fact, I got into the rhythm of it after a while. Breathe in, breathe out. In and out. In… Out… And suddenly black wasn’t black anymore. It wasn’t not black, but it wasn’t quite black either.
A 3-dimensional black? Does that make sense? No? It doesn’t make sense to me either presently, but it did back then. And from out of nowhere these lines started popping out. Blue, digital lines that moved forwards as if drawing something onto the 3-dimensional black. Kinda reminded me of the album cover of ‘Unknown Pleasures’ by Joy Division. In fact, the minute I thought about it, the lines moved to form that exact same image in my head. I could control the lines! “Hmm, I can draw anything and everything I want; it’s like a mental etchy-sketch!” I tried picturing my dad’s face. But how can you picture something which you’ve forgotten? My brain disregarded that question and proceeded to form his face. I could even hear his voice out of nowhere, repeating everything I wanted it to. But it wasn’t real. None of it was. It wasn’t even close to reality. His face, his voice… It was all electronic, digital, fake. A virtual recreation of a brain hooked up on DMT. It was hollow, empty. The realisation made the lines break into millions of birds. They were blue at first, but then they started changing colour. From blue to indigo then purple. It was beautiful. It really was.
I was brought back to the real black of the room. I had to throw up. Of course, having had years of practice through alcohol binging, this was nothing out of the norm for me. I grabbed the bucket next to me and just got it all out like a pro and went back to minding my own business. It was quite easy to fall back into that altered state of mind and start hallucinating random stuff. Like when I visualised multiple realities which then collapsed into one only for me to realise that the best reality out of all of them is the one I’m currently living in. Cool right? Easier still was to snap back to reality whenever my guide would have a particularly loud snore or when the shaman would spit, gag or retch. Multiple times. Way too many times. Then I could hear his belly grumble. He excused himself and finally I was left to my own devices. I could finally concentrate once again.
In and out. In… Out… The rustling of the leaves. The whooshing of the wind. I was starting to become one with the jungle. And then… And then I did. I was one with the jungle. I could picture myself as being part of the same foliage and soil that I was surrounded by. The whistling of the birds. The croaking of the frogs. I was one with the jungle. The blue lines reappeared out of the roots of the trees. They flew to the sky and guided me to somewhere far away. They started forming a mountain. And then another one right in front of it. Then some ruins in between. It was all too familiar but it took me quite a while to realise what it was… It was Machu Picchu! I was hallucinating Machu friggin Picchu! And then, the lines starting changing colour; all the colours of the rainbow – red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, purple. And then more colours. Colours I didn’t know existed. Colours I didn’t know could exist! My god – it was all so clear! The explosively colourful Peruvian clothes must have been inspired by Ayahuasca! It was all so obvious… There I was… Alone in the ruins of Machu Picchu; glowing in the colours of the gods. That was exactly what I had thought I’d feel when I’d visit one of the seven Wonders of the World! Against all odds, I got to experience that!
Only briefly so. You know that feeling when you’re having the time of your life at a party but it’s cut short because your friend who’s driving wants to leave? That party was my hallucination. That friend? My own personal shaman flushing the toilet. At that point all I wanted was for the effect of the hallucinogenic to fade away. It kinda gets tiring finding your centre or whatever only to be dragged right back by the one who’s supposed to guide you to it.
So, final verdict? I’d definitely recommend it. With good company though. Someone who doesn’t snore, spit or flush preferably.