Chapter 6

December 31, 2013

At four o’clock, buckets of water filled with fragrant flower petals wait for us near the jungle’s edge on a bench beside the large fire pit where the Ayahuasca is brewed. I pick up a blue bucket and gently pour the water and flowers onto my head, then neck, shoulders, arms, hands, back, chest, stomach, butt, genitalia, legs and feet, covering every inch of my body. I rub the water and petals against my skin as I inhale the sweet aroma. The flower bath is designed to cleanse the mind, body and spirit, and to protect against negative energy from entering before and during the ceremony. We’re encouraged to let the petals dry onto our skin to enhance the protective properties and to make us more appealing to Mother Ayahuasca.

I look over at Sid and Carl, both covered in green leaves, and they each look like some combination of Tarzan, Adam and a swamp creature. Goosebumps emerge from my skin, partly from the crisp refreshment of the bath, and partly from my excitement about tonight’s Ayahuasca ceremony—an experience I’ve been looking forward to for two years; an experience I understand as a rite of passage.

At six o’clock, Dan, Guy, Jon, Sid, Carl and I head to the maloca to practice yoga. Rafa takes us through a yin yoga during which we hold postures for three minutes each. The practice is designed to relax and enhance receptiveness to the healing powers of Ayahuasca and the shamans. My breath deepens, my hips open, my body loosens and lightens, and my mind clears. As I enter corpse pose to conclude the class, rain pours through the jungle and thunder booms through the air. Through closed eyelids, I see flashes of lightning and listen to the showers pitter-patter the maloca’s roof.

“Man, this is magical. The thunderstorm,” Sid says softly as we stand to roll up our mats.

“I know, man. Everything seems to be happening just as I would want it to,” I reply.

“A thunderstorm in the jungle on New Year’s Eve, the night of our first Ayahuasca experience. Shit’s about to get real!” Carl smiles and we all giggle.

I walk shirtless in the pouring rain back to my room to prepare for the ceremony, which begins in an hour’s time. I’m mindful of each movement I make, appreciative of every breath I take, and I look around the room to determine what I want to bring with me to the ceremony. I change into the comfortable blue ceremonial pants and put on a grey tank top. I grab my water bottle, flashlight, a hoodie, and four mapachos, in case I’m inclined to smoke during the ceremony. Butterflies flutter in my stomach.

Around 7:30, I walk into the maloca and sit down on my mattress. A single candle illuminates the space. A happy excitement and lightness fills me and the air. I sit smiling as the others come to take their place. Jon bounces with giddiness on the mattress next to me as he and Tatyana share laughs.

“Mike, are you ready?” Jon asks with a beaming smile.

I chuckle, “Yes. How about you?”

“So ready. Enjoy the journey.”

“You too, homie.”

I glance around the room and everyone from our group is present. Geoffrey, the man who participated in his first Ayahuasca experience with Dan earlier this year and who is back at Nihue Rao for a five-week stay, sits on the mattress beside Dan’s. A French man sits quietly on a mattress across the room. Ana, Rafa, Ricardo, Erjomenes and Ersilia are all here too. Jon hands me a floral water that I’m to dab on my chest, back of my neck, both temples, between my brow and on top of my head to protect against dark energies.

I’m called up first. I stand carefully. Striding slowly from my mattress and across the circle, my eyes focus on Erjomenes and the brew he pours into a small glass. I sit down cross-legged in front of the shaman. Erjomenes hands me the glass of earthy Ayahuasca. I hold the reddish-brown liquid in my right hand, smell it, and whisper my intent to the divine spirit. I gulp the medicine, let it slide down my throat and into my stomach. Pausing a moment, I hand the glass back to the shaman, stand up and walk back to my mattress with excitement in my mind and peace in my soul.

I am ready.

Sitting on my mattress with pillows pressed between my back and the wall of the maloca, I watch Jon, Tatyana, Dan, Geoffrey, Sid, Carl, Guy, and the French man drink the medicine. Rafa blows out the candle before the shamans each drink their medicine and nausea brews in my gut—a nausea similar to that induced by other psychedelics: a comforting and teaching nausea, one that I know will persist but will not trouble me.

Anticipating the trip and cognizant of tonight being New Year’s Eve, I decide to reflect on my life lessons and experiences from 2013. I reflect on my physicality—the incessant quest to improve my movement quality and athleticism—and how I become obsessed, training three-plus hours everyday with a strict regimen and insufficient recovery, ultimately neglecting other areas of life essential to my happiness. I become constantly fatigued, exhausted no matter how much I sleep. My strength plummets, handstands become painfully difficult, and my body feels heavy. I will show up to work at the ad agency around noon and am spent four hours later. My energy has all but disappeared and the world seems dark: both my sex drive and vigor have vanished, and I resolve that putting a bullet in my brain is the best option, if I can’t feel normal again within two years.

Committed to overcoming the fatigue, I consult with a natural health practitioner who helps me develop an appreciation for Yin energy, the female energy and relaxation. I begin a daily meditation practice, fill my mind with positive thoughts, and start to play: rather than focus so wholeheartedly on the training regimen, I focus on play, eventually re-discovering the joy of movement—the reason I had become so interested in the first place. I practice less, socialize more, and slowly but surely, become healthier and happier.

I contemplate the relationships I’ve developed and the people and businesses I’ve helped through my advertising agency. I think about building I Wager That (IWT), the startup I’ve been working on, and traveling to my business partner and friend Charlie’s cottage where I first encounter the lovely Linnea; the way she looks, moves, her philosophies and energy are all things I love.

I think about traveling to Burning Man[1] with Sid: the magic, the beauty, the people, the warm and loving souls, the music, the dancing, the recognition that this is what we live for—the existence that we ought to celebrate, and the infinite energy channeled from above that permeates all people and things participating. Burning Man is less a festival and more a way of life.

My return to Toronto from Burning Man is wonderfully uplifting. I am uplifted and I am uplifting, and I am uplifting others. I develop a deeper appreciation for my expressiveness—through spoken word, written word, dance and movement, and through my ability to converse deeply.

I think of meeting Linnea at the corner of Ossington and Dundas Street, hugging hello, and then sharing dinner and rapturous conversation at Foxley before venturing to The Hunt Club to see some of her magnificent art. The piece that’s name escapes me but now hangs on my wall: a grey, black and white rib cage with a belly full of beautifully blossoming pink flowers: We are from the Earth like leaves growing on a tree, a philosophy of mine expressed visually by this woman I’m coming to know. Linnea and I share more time together: rock climbing and meals. And conversation in which time vanishes: an intellectual fornication, the most oral of sex.

I think about the first meal I make for us: the ever-so-slightly overcooked bison liver, sweet potato/coconut oil/cinnamon mash, the asparagus and garlic-butter roasted mushrooms and wine before kissing her lips, her neck and then stomach, a slight mental apprehension on her part—her physical readiness apparent—before she realizes that she can trust me with her whole heart and allowing me to kiss, taste and explore her with my mouth and tongue: a responsiveness and conversation so symbiotic that I become ragingly erect for the first time in a while. I think about Linnea taking me in her mouth, the warmth and wetness so immersive, like my whole being is being caressed by her tongue. I enter her, a vessel into a port that feels like home. The cosmic rapture, the intertwining of physical and philosophical spirits, the orgasmic lust enveloped by love, the passion immersed in compassion, and the continually expanding vantage point into a reality and depth so profound.

I think about my Halloween trip to New York City with Sid to meet with some Burner, new and old friends; the Robot Heart[2] party of love, respect and positive vibes with our fellow Torontonians Art Department destroying the dance floor with powerful beats. I think about the Burning Man book that Sid and I made and then sharing it with Nala and Lara—two of the dear friends we made in the Nevada desert; the magical and immersive re-living of the experiences we together shared, an experience we will always have that cannot be taken away. This was a place of loving, emerging out of the sexual and into the platonic. The Sunday night with the four of us, plus our new friend Enja. Half-naked, on mushrooms, and under the influence of entrancing music, we dance and share love in addition to a few drugs.

Upon return to Toronto, I reconnect with Linnea, our beings becoming increasingly intertwined. The verbal admission of love succeeding the ever-deepening physical and spiritual articulation of the same. As I re-live my and Linnea’s sexuality, I think of Mother Ayahuasca’s desire for refrain from sexual release. I ask whether she’d be jealous of my mind’s visions before recognizing that no, Mother Ayahuasca is attracted to this energy. But, I also recognize that the time is fast approaching to fully engage with the maternal root of the rainforest. A warm fire rises and fills the right side of my body, the nausea mounting.

Mother Ayahuasca, can you please wait a few more minutes as I reflect on the rest of my year? . . . . . Whoa, I’m talking to a plant. An allowance is permitted. I quickly and intensively reflect on IWT, the cryptocurrency[3] mining operation I’m a part of, my dearest friends, family and Christmas, then off to Peru where I am warmly embraced by Dan, Tatyana, Jon, Guy and our jungle leader Victor. I think about my exploration, grounding and integration with the Amazon River and rainforest, and I can feel that the integration is about to become more deeply rooted. December 31, 2013 is the most peaceful day of my life, and I communicate, Mamma Ayahuasca, I am ready. I am ready to be shown whatever you would like and need to show me. I am open to any and all things, and I hope to learn from you, and I hope that you can learn from me. I welcome our collaboration, and I welcome you into me. My intentions are two-fold:

1. To gain clarity on my business and career path: is it a fear I need to overcome with respect to launching I Wager That, or is it an intuition I should listen to that suggests that I Wager That is not my right path?
   
2. To gain deeper insight into my body: to learn how to recalibrate certain movement patterns so as to heal the neuromuscular pathways that sometimes manifest as discomfort in the left side of my body.

With eyes closed, I sit cross-legged in a meditative pose, keeping the energy at a lower, less nauseating center, and I wonder if I’ll vomit. I feel a series of warm visuals caress my third eye, my mind, my body and my soul. Deep in the right side of my perceptual field and emerging from a distance, I see green and purple beams of light that remind me of Aurora Borealis. Like the Northern Lights, the beams flutter and wave as they slowly and lovingly reach toward me.

I open my eyes and transition into the physical world. The feeling of the beams persists at a slightly lower intensity, while my vision of them dampens to about one-fifth of what I can see with eyes shut. I turn my head to the left and can no longer see the beams. I turn my head back to the right, let my eyelids drop, and the visualizations return with the same rhythm as before, a little further on than where I had last seen them. These loving beams continue whether I consciously engage with them or not, the same way a cloud floats through the sky, independently of a viewer’s gaze. Everything that I’m seeing is objective. The beams flow, waving and warm, and aim at my left shoulder. My concern for involuntary vomiting ceases. The beams turn my body so that I lie down on my left side and curl up in a position close to fetal. A warm blanket of green and purple beams envelops me as Mamma Ayahuasca shows me I’m safe.

There is nothing to worry about, my child. Relax, I will take care of you and everything will be all right, she communicates. This is love, and this is maternity.

I giggle and I sigh, and I wonder whether this will be the extent of my first experience. If so, that’s fine by me. Just to have experienced this warm and subtle embrace would be a wonderful and sufficient introduction. I think I might fall asleep . . .

A shaman begins to sing a powerful, melodic and strange sound, not entirely pleasant, but far from unpleasant. Orange and yellow spots, triangles and other shapes enter the left side of my perceptual field. The shapes move with the shaman’s sound, emanating from his mouth and gently expanding rightward across my perceptual field. Mamma is a portal allowing me to see and enter a new dimension. Progressively, this new dimension takes the place of what was previously the empty space between my neck and the forty-five foot tall ceiling of the maloca dome.

A second shaman’s voice (Ricardo’s, I believe) enters the dimension with red, purple and green patterns. Ersilia’s song then fills the air with a full spectrum of colour and sound. Everything is untraditionally harmonious to my Western perspective, and I giggle at the funny sounds and think about rolling onto my back.

Turning, I open my arms and heart as I feel Mamma Ayahuasca release me into this new dimension, a place I have never seen before. The umbilical cord gently severs, but she remains around me, in case I need support. Supportive but not suffocating, the mark of a wonderful and loving mother.

Lying on my back, I giggle some more and begin to hum to the sights, sounds and feelings that fill this space and time, and I start to dance, bobbing my head, shaking my legs, moving my torso, and gently pumping my arms. I feel like a five-year old skipping down the street. This is joy. Pure, unadulterated joy.

Three beings present themselves in my right perceptual field. Three small black humanoid beings cloaked with grey hoods and outlined by sharp and vibrant orange, pink and yellow lines. What the . . .?

A bright orange line floats in the foreground between my head and body. A yellow line floats in the upper distance, while pink lines fill the background in an indistinct manner. The beings are female and about three feet tall. The one in front slowly reveals herself to me, opens her cloak and sends me love. I wonder if Linnea would be upset by this encounter before recognizing that the being’s expression of love is friendly, warm, protective and maternal, not sexual.

The colours expand, all different colours flower and line my perceptual energy field amongst the loving darkness. I open my eyes to see whether this dimension is a hallucination. With eyes open, the visual of the dimension weakens softly while the energy remains present and accessible. I realize the dimension is not a hallucination, but ever-present. With the opening and closing of my eyes, I can toggle between the physical reality and this new dimension; two dimensions that intersect harmoniously, but with a degree of separateness, like the way the air meets the ocean’s surface. This space unfamiliar to my conscious memories, but somehow familiar to my being, as though I’ve been here before. But, I can’t place my finger on when.

I engage with the physical reality as I watch Sid light a mapacho. I look around the room and feel everyone’s energy. While I am on an individual quest, we are all interacting to engage with this space. The new dimension is differently present with my eyes open, and the film title Eyes Wide Shut resonates with me.

I close my eyelids to immerse myself in the new dimension some more. The three female beings show me more love as I hear Jon vomit beside me. I telepathically ask whether he’s all right and I’m assured that he’s just fine. I consider the communication that takes place in this realm, and I realize that when the Ayahuasca or the spirits share an idea, they do so beyond words. Language is unnecessary and idea exchange requires no interpretation. The impartation is direct, nothing lost in translation.

I notice my own mind shift between linguistic articulation of the experience and an articulation beyond words. I imagine trying to explain love to a friend with words. Unless he knows the experience of love, my words will never do the experience justice. I then imagine being able to deposit my experience of love into my friend’s mind and into the fibers of his being. The latter is what communication is like in this realm.

Caressing my soul, the three humanoid spirits slowly shift leftward and a new series of spirit species appears in the foreground. I feel a sense of incompleteness and longing for the humanoids before receiving assurance that they are always here for me.

The new spirits are each a series of six or seven worm-like tubes stacked on top of one another, and they remind me of drawings of mitochondria. I call them mitos. Unlike the humanoids, who remain floating in the background, the mitos have white eyes and glow full of different colours: blue then back to black, yellow then back to black, red then black. With each colourful glow, my visual of the mitos’ eyes succumbs to the soft, bright luminosity, like the sun shining behind a friend’s face and blotting out his eyes. When the spirits fade black, their bright white eyes become more apparent. The mitos turn brown and I see there are dozens of them. They grow and swell, and normally I would describe them as disgusting, but in this moment, I see how beautiful they are. These mitos have a relationship with the brewing diarrhea I become conscious of in my large intestine. Eventually, I’ll need to expel the diarrhea, yet I have full control of when that eventuality will occur. Now is not the time. I’m enjoying this new dimension too much to leave for the washroom.

My perceptual energy field becomes kaleidoscopic but with less mirroring and more infinite in direction and potentiality. This is a kaleidoscope a blind man could see.

The mitos slide toward the outground as a new friend emerges: a small male, elderly in love and wisdom but youthful in energy and demeanor. He’s as tall as the humanoids and has a relationship with them. He has a horse’s head with a body propped up like a teddy bear’s: legs in a seated, open V with arms open as though he’s inviting a hug. His body is black with a vibrant and sharp pinkish-red outline, and I sense his infinitely open and glowing heart, though I cannot see it. He shows without telling that he’s a brother, a best friend, and a grandfather. I think of him as Centurion.

The icaros[4] continue to vibrate throughout my entire reality, helping shape it and helping me see it all. I hear Jon’s necklace shake as though it’s immediately beside my right ear. I wonder if these spirits are the ones Jon had spoken about earlier during our conversation on ascension, and I realize they are. Whether Jon perceives these spirits the same way, or whether he uses the same nomenclature to describe them, I’m not sure, but it doesn’t matter since both he and I are aware of their essence.

Initially, I was open to hearing Jon’s philosophies but maintained a healthy skepticism; partly because of the stigma attached to terms like “psychic,” “spirit” and “ascending to dimensions beyond the physical”, but now I recognize the essence of what he articulated. I confront the fact that our Western culture often criticizes psychics for not actually predicting the future. Instead, we seem to think that the psychics speak with vagueness and merely plant seeds that end up dictating the listener’s experience. And while there are surely fraudulent psychics, I now realize that “psychic” experience needn’t be about prediction, but in fact about guidance; about helping a listener grow, about helping a particular quest flower into all of its potential—a flowerishing[5] that transcends space and time. And thus, the psychic guidance is a collaborative effort, much like my experience so far with Ayahuasca. And a flowerishing much like the flowerishing of the Ayahuasca vine itself: a flowerishing that helps so many flowerish and flourish.

I toggle my awareness more strongly to the new dimension and I see Centurion seated and loving, still in the foreground but slightly less so; the humanoids have drifted closer than the mitos, and I begin to notice that my entire visual and energy field is made up of an infinite number of spirits and spirit species—like when you look in between stars and begin to see the stars beyond the stars. These spirits are all aware of one another in the same way that I’m aware of each of them. Biological, bacterial, humanoid, mammalian, serpents, plant-like, feather-like, infinite in degree and expressions, so many forms which I don’t yet have words to describe, and everyone of them showing love, each with a different articulation, collectively exhibiting love as a whole.

I am so safe and full of love and unbelievable wonder. How will I share this? How can I express this experience? How can I articulate it to my own mind!? How can I integrate this experience with my previously conceived notions of reality? Will I paint it? Will I write it? Will I speak it? Will I produce a film? And will some who I share it with deem me insane? How!? What!? What the fuck!? Wow. Wow! I giggle and sigh and Phew! and I understand that I needn’t articulate and share it all in this moment. I needn’t figure it all out right now. The amount of information is, while progressive and gentle, almost overwhelming. But, not quite overwhelming: Mamma Ayahuasca takes great care to show and teach me in a way that I will be able to integrate.

While these thoughts flow through me, the visual symphony flows through my perceptual field. Peacefully, I lie back to enjoy the show as more beings appear and recede. Enshrouded with love, I hear a whisper, “Mike . . .” and I look around. I hear a second “Mike . . .” and I inquire within. Is this whisper a hallucination? Is it in my new dimension? In the physical realm? I see the whisper present itself as small and energetic white spots of light in my left perceptual field. I watch the vibrations and navigate my body towards the source.

“Hey, who is that?” I ask aloud.

“Mike, hey man, how are you?” I think it’s Rafa.

“Man . . . wow. Um, I’m amazing. I can’t really see you . . .” I laugh, “man, it’s a bit tough to move, a bit tough to navigate, but wonderfully so.” I now realize it’s Dan, not Rafa.

“Hahaha awesome, buddy. Do you want a second dose?”

My mind explodes with a contemplation I did not realize existed. “A second dose!? Phew . . . . . No man, I think I’m good.”

“All right brother. Enjoy,” Dan smiles and walks away as I further contemplate a second dose, realizing that I am in the perfect place, in Mamma Ayahuasca’s loving embrace, and that another dose is unnecessary.

I sit up and stare with eyes closed, perceiving the infinity of this dimension, so grateful to experience this, comfortable with the idea of this journey ending shortly or continuing forever.

I toggle back to the friendly spirits and notice the conversation taking place not only inter-species, intra-species, and with me, but also the species’ interactions with my fellow humans in the physical world. I notice the soft glow of Tatyana’s flashlight as her head intersects with the other dimension, the nearby spirits shifting to accommodate her presence. I smile and hum.

Rafa’s white robe and energy emerge from my left.

“Mike, it’s time for your song,” he says, encouraging me to stand up. I’m uncertain I want to shift my attention from the colourful spirits, and I’m unconvinced the shamans can help further my understanding. I better not go. Mamma Ayahuasca is and will continue showing me all I need to see. But, wanting to respect the ceremony and feeling assured that I can always return to the new dimension in the event the shaman disappoints, I hear the Ayahuasca whisper, “Go. Explore.”

Feeling like I’ve landed on a planet with a different gravitational pull, I stand up and walk more like a two-year old than an adult. After a couple of stumbled steps, I find my bearings as Rafa and I giggle our way to the shaman.

“Rafa man, this is magical.”

“I’m glad you enjoy it,” he smiles, and I carefully sit down cross-legged a few feet from some energy that I can’t really see.

Disoriented in the physical space, I’m unsure if the shaman that sits across from me is Ricardo or Erjomenes. I stare at the form, which is about seven times larger than any human being, a gigantic grey and black swelling cloud of what looks like smoke, and I have next to no idea where the shaman’s physical form ends and his spiritual energy begins.

At the top of the cloud, the spiritual energy begins to sway like a treetop in the wind. The sway slides down the cloud, building up steam along the way before it reaches three feet above the ground—presumably where the shaman’s head resides—and the shaman begins to chant intense and mysterious melodies. I watch with dropped jaw. My shoulders slouch forward, eyes open wider than ever before—a new definition for awe. The song intensifies, and more swaying, rotating, shifting and waving emanate from the shaman’s place in space. I laugh in disbelief, paradoxically believing it at the same time, and I sway in conversation and collaboration with this mighty form I behold.

Any other moment in my life, I would perceive this gigantic black and grey, bellowing and powerful form inches from my face as ominous and terrifying, but here, now, I am under maternal protection and I know this energy that sings and dances with me is breathtakingly beautiful.

The energy, the spirit grows and becomes louder, sways more violently and gets extremely close. I want to touch the physical form but am unsure if it’s appropriate, so I slowly offer my right arm into the energy field. We almost make contact and I wonder whether touching will be like sticking my arm into a soothing bath or a hellish fire, but I’m unafraid and confident in the former.

A giant burst of black energy like a mushroom cloud exploding from an atom bomb hurtles toward my face, and five hands shoot from the cloud as two of them grip the crown and sides of my head firmly pulling upward as the cloud engulfs my skull and I hear

PHOOOOOOSSSSSHHHH!!! 

My head propels in the direction the hands pulled me as two more black bodiless hands explode from within the grey cloud, grip my crown and sides of my head at a slightly different angle, and rip away in an intense massage-like manner.

PHOOOOOOSSSSSHHHH!!!

Inside this intense cloud of swaying energy like a tornado whipping me in nine different directions, five hands come at me again with two grabbing my neck and back of my head.

PHOOOOOOSSSSSHHHH!!!

Entranced in this exchange, I’m discombobulated and fearless.

PHOOOOOOSSSSSHHHH!!!

Two more hands aggress my lower neck, tension slips away, I’m full of power, awe-inspired in a violent loving dance battle with no chance of damage. Surrounded by all-encompassing spirit energy, a cloud and five hands fly at my face; one grabs my left shoulder as another rips up my left rhomboid in the exact location I intended to heal with my second intention, and all tension vanishes. Complete muscular relaxation. The giant energy disappears, leaving only the slightest smoky trace. I thrash my head to the left and to the right, but the shaman is gone.

I sit still, unsure about what just happened. I peer into the darkness, and through grey smoke, I see Erjomenes sitting still as a statue far back on his mattress. His eyes are deep and intense, though I can’t tell whether they’re looking at me, through me, or to somewhere I’m unaware of.

“Mike, that’s the end of your song,” Rafa says as I regain my senses. I stand up in the most confused state and laugh in surrender. Rafa laughs with me all the way back to my mattress. I collapse back onto my bed and whisperingly yell, “WHAT THE FUCK!? WHAT THE FUCK!? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  WHOOOAA!! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . WHAT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . THE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .FUCK!? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . WOW! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .WHAT!? WHAT!? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . WHAT THE FUCK!?” as I grab my head and shoot my hands up my face, over my crown and into space. What!? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . What is going on? I smile, mind blown somewhere into the distant cosmos, and I am incredulously happy. Three tears fall from my right eye.

I become aware of the new dimension I’ve returned to, and I feel Centurion’s love in the immediate background as sideways serpents slither east and west and then off into the distance. Brightly coloured and slimy, these snakes would have previously frightened me, but here and now, they caress me with love. Full of beauty and soul, these snakes are not here to harm me. I become conscious of my body existing both inside and outside this new dimension, the orange foregrounding line running across my neck, the dimension above looking like a pink and green Alex Grey painting. I perceive my digestive tract, intestines and all, full of different lively bacterial spirits. White amoeba-looking gut flora with eyes populate the space both above and below the orange foregrounding line. Happy, Furby-like creatures are interspersed with the flora, and I understand my body as a vessel through which many spirits pass, physically living, dying and being excreted; existences existing eternally. My body is not my own, but a shared space for trillions of spirits—a universe unto itself—and I must continue to make this universe as welcoming as possible to the right kind of spirits: this to be achieved by continuing to nourish my body with all the right kinds of nutrients. I recognize how important health is to me. 

I ponder the feelings that make me feel best and that make me feel most connected with my highest potential and my highest form of consciousness: love, gratitude, joy, peace, compassion, passion, and I think about the people and things that help me achieve these feelings.

I think about Linnea, and her physical form appears briefly in my left perceptual field before she morphs into and reveals her spiritual self: a warm, glowing, slightly yellowish, gentle bright white slightly oval-shaped globe, reminiscent of a beautiful egg with a small black slit at the center, like that on top of a piggy-bank. I observe her energy for ten seconds. She is the warmest, most beautiful, loving, powerful, glowing, happy, pure, delightful, full-of-light, magical, wonderful, true, caring, lively, lovely spirit. Our souls embrace, merging together like puzzle pieces designed for one another, and we glow radiant light. It is the most comforting, loving and right feeling. It’s the feeling of home. It’s the feeling of being in my home amongst infinity. Our spirits express these sentiments together. This is a powerful and wonderful connection, and it is one that values and protects each other’s independence. There’s an understanding that we needn’t be together at all times, for we have our own individual quests, but that we are always connected and together in a spiritual sense, and that we are always there for one another when needed. We both express I am always here for you. It is a support system of infinite depth made of infinite love.

Though I communicate with Linnea’s spirit, I feel a compulsion to eventually communicate this experience with her in the physical world. Is it even necessary to write her or call, or is she supremely aware of our spiritual intertwining of souls, despite my body being in Peru and hers back in Toronto on this final eve of 2013? I know we will speak soon enough, and I enjoy my time in her spirit’s warm embrace. I could stay here forever, but out of respect for my personal Ayahuascan quest, she encourages me to Go. Explore. I kiss her goodbye and drift from the left side of my perceptual field along to the right.

I bump into my great friend Simon. Our spirits hug with mutual admiration and we notice Centurion nearby. I see Ido Portal, a brilliant movement mentor, move from a one-arm handstand into a lizard crawl before transforming into an actual lizard. I see Ugis, the president of my advertising agency, who smiles and takes the shape of a big happy fish with glasses. The Ayahuasca, the shamans, and my concentration then guide my focus towards my first intention.

I contemplate my vice presidency at the ad agency. It’s fun and rewarding, but not fulfilling enough to sustain me long-term. I look at the dimension of spirits and consciousness, all of it existing infinitely, consequential and full of profound significance. This space is where I come from. It is where I was born out of, it is where I progress towards, it is where I dream, it is where my highest consciousness resides, and it is where I will forever and always be.

My vision shifts to the right, to what I have learned to be the more masculine side, while femininity resides mostly in the left. In this right side, I see men dressed in suits who put on a façade in the name of business, all for a relatively meaningless exchange of inconsequential information and money. I perceive a great deal of the business that takes place in the world as bullshit. Our physical world is merely transient. Those acts that do not contribute or connect to this infinite dimension and higher form of consciousness miss the point I crave to make. So much of the business and governance that takes place in the Western world are driven by fear. They are wrong and they make people unfulfilled and unhappy. Even the winner of the rat race is still a rat, and I think that humanity’s equilibrium has shifted too far into the masculine direction, thereby creating a fear-mongering patriarchy. While the goal-oriented, driven, Yang and masculine side of the equation is imperative to physical progress, the maternal, feminine, present and Yin side of the equation is imperative to spiritual growth. Only when man and nature balance in harmony will all have the potential for happiness.

I stare into the realm of sentient beings to see an ethereal, white porcelain-looking and hairless man burst head and shoulders upwards from a swamp. He punches his arms to the side and sheds his thick, shackled skin. He explodes upwards again from another of the same swamp, sheds more skin, and he explodes upwards again and again, ten times in total from ten of the same swamp, punching his arms to the side and shedding more skin with each ascent. From this vision, I realize that a lot of what I’ve been doing and working towards conflicts with my spirit and my true desires. I’m pursuing IWT due to my entrepreneurial yearning and not because I’m passionate about the idea. It’s a great idea, and probably one that will come to fruition—whether engineered by Charlie or someone else—but I am not passionate to execute the idea in the way it needs to be executed. If not for the money, there’s no chance I would work on the project, which is a fear-based motive and not one emanating from love. So, if I don’t admit my inadequate passion now, I risk putting myself in a position that will manifest in some ugly form a few months or a few years from now. And thus, as it stands, an honest conversation with Charlie needs to be had.

I think about my relationship with Linnea, as I’m sure my ambition is partly what attracts her to me. Though she’s independent, I want to provide for us. But, I realize that if I operate from love, there’s no reason to fear my financial future. I have no doubt about my ability to create wonderful and powerful things. What those things are, I don’t yet know, but my creativity and time will help me sort those things out. Is it writing? Podcasting? A combination of the two? A full execution of my love for full disclosure in an attempt to make the world a more honest, open and loving place? For now, I think I’ll simply take the time, retract a little from my agency role, and focus only on clients I have and the prospects whose values align with my own, all the while remaining open to other opportunities.

These thoughts live so clear in this infinite and new dimensional space, and yet my ego still struggles to fully accept them. These revelations exist as realizations progressing towards, but not yet, foregone conclusions. The uncertainty scares me not, for I feel Mamma Ayahuasca’s whispering assurance, Relax, my child. Everything will be all right.

Beings and spirits continue to shift and drift like a mosaic of clouds in a big African sky. This is the most fascinating place I’ve ever seen: to think that all this exists and that I had no prior conscious awareness of it! Yet, it feels so right and familiar. I think of DMT, the “Spirit Molecule”, its nickname now obvious to me. This is the stuff we’re made of.

I think of how I arrived here. I think of all my life, both physical and spiritual, leading up to this moment. I think of Dan and Pulse Tours for bringing me here. I think of Tatyana’s maternal warmth in helping Dan coordinate our plans and events throughout our time around the Peruvian Amazon. I think of Victor, our gracious and pure jungle-guiding brother—a man connected with it all. I think of the shamans and Mother Ayahuasca showing me the portal into this omnipresent reality, the colours, the visuals, the feelings that continue to blow my mind.

I shift my attention to movement, trying to interpret the residual effects of Erjomenes’ storm massage and tension release. I have an intuitive sense for how to avoid the aggravation of old injuries: move more freely, and always explore new forms and patterns. Work towards moving outside of and beyond patterns to a complete free form and flowing space. By not shifting and progressing from the same linear patterns, the same symptoms and neuromuscular expressions of ailment will only re-surface. Believe passionately that my body is free to move in any capacity imaginable. Believe and act so passionately that this freedom becomes possible.

A giant flower emerges into the foreground. The flower’s core glows a beautiful orange-yellow as its purple petals struggle to spread open and wide, covered by a white fuzz that inhibits its maternal prowess. I see its core as a sun that gives the petals a fighting chance. Only if the flower receives a little more water and light will the petals free themselves from the fuzz and blossom into their full potential. I recognize the flower as my mother and the white fuzz as the depression she has battled since I was a child, much more successfully in recent years. Her physical form appears. I am powerfully aware that all she needs to become truly happy is a little more love and a little more appreciation. With that, she will develop the self-love to blossom into the beautiful flower that she really is.

My mom drifts to the background as the physical form of my father appears in the foreground. He rotates as though on an axis, and I’m a bit unsure what to think or feel: a great and loving man, but whose spirit I cannot see. This isn’t a bad thing, but I suspect he could be more emotionally vulnerable and open, which I speculate would allow for some personal growth. I want to ask him, “Dad, are you willing to consider that everything you know about reality might be different than you think?” I think about showing him Ayahuasca. As a specialist in internal medicine, I respect and admire his quest and ability to help people in suffering. Though I’m not sure his role needs to change, for he has helped thousands upon thousands of people, I wonder if a different perspective on the body, mind and health as a whole could improve his practice. I look at Western medicine and see it not as health care, but as sick care instead: patients lead unhealthy lives for decades and then look to another human being, and perhaps a series of green and blue pills, to cure them. But, health is not acquired in a day. It is built over a lifetime. The human body requires certain foundational elements to thrive: positive, happy thinking, sound nutrition, movement and physical activity, and a purpose: mind, body and soul. No Zoloft prescription will ever provide those elements, and in the Western world, we must evolve past treating symptoms to addressing causes. I’m confident such evolution is already taking shape, and I wonder if my dad could help it along its way.

Dance music emanates from a New Year’s celebration in a village nearby. The music integrates with the icaros, and I dance physically and spiritually with the tune. Centurion drifts to the foreground as pink and red fill the field. An orange and blue bird flies to the forefront with a damaged wing. He flutters softly without direction, and I can tell he’s struggling to find one. I recognize the bird as my younger brother Rob, and I speak to him, “I can help you mend this wing. We can do this together.” The bird smiles a confident smile. I think my brother would love and benefit from an Ayahuasca experience, and allow him to de-shackle from the chains he carries. Rob flies into the background as the humanoids and some new spirits appear together. I start wondering about IWT again as the friendly beings shower me with love. One of the shamans vomits and Jon burps as though he’s hovering right beside my ear. I wonder about the trip’s conclusion, and the brown biological diarrhea spirits float from beneath the foreground into the transitionary space between the physical world and the new dimension. I contemplate purging that which has been brewing.

I shift up onto my knees, locate my flashlight, and carefully plant my right heel onto the maloca’s wooden floor. I press myself up slowly. It feels like I’m walking on the moon, my vision not entirely in sync with my eardrums and proprioception. I pull the door open and step outside in search of my flip-flops. Sid appears outside and his energy reminds me of a wide-eyed and happy lion.

“How are you, brother!?” he laughs. We exchange some “Phews!” and words of borderline disbelief before I leave for the washroom.

Inside the washroom, the new dimension is inaccessible. The maloca is a sacred space reserved for sacred spaces, and this bathroom is reserved for purging, for leaving things behind and shedding shackles. I shit ferociously and with ease as I flash my light on the concrete floor. My bulb reveals faces that express the more negative emotions—emotions that have been purged in this room. I think of IWT as I continue to shit. I’m not sure if the new dimension will remain accessible upon my return to the maloca, but I’ll be content either way.

On the toilet, I sit filled with questions, and ponder like The Thinker. I take solace in the fact that a caterpillar does not become a butterfly in one day. Mamma Ayahuasca assures me that everything is all right now and that I am living my spiritual quest. It’s never all figured out, but I always have my place in this infinite realm in which I have existed forever, and loving spirits all the time surround me.

As my body expels waste and toxins with the help of gut flora spirits, I receive confirmation that my digestive system is on point and that I should continue with the way I eat. This moment represents the cleanest I’ve ever felt, and I recognize that my purges are not reactions to a poison, but a medicine, instead. I contemplate vomiting, but decide not tonight, and walk the twenty-five steps back to our ceremonial shrine.

Upon re-entry, a candle shines and the icaros have stopped. The ceremony ended during my purge, which I find fitting. I can no longer access the new dimension as I sit down on my mattress. Carl and Sid giggle, so I walk over to join them. Sid and I have more or less returned to sobriety while Carl remains in a state of intense physicality. He focuses on gulping each and every breath.

“I . . .” Carl takes a big breath and continues, “have . . .” he pauses and gasps for air, “to think . . .” he gasps again, “about . . . every,” big breath, “breath,” he gets out before giggling. “I can’t . . . . . . think . . . . . about . . . . . anything . . . . . else,” he laughs again and rolls over onto his side. Carl’s intention for his first ceremony was to become more present. His mind often races, and he wants to better appreciate each moment. Tonight, he can think about nothing more than the present moment as he purges through deep breathing and fluids from his nose and eyes. He had a second intention of learning how to better find the good in all people. He admits to being dismissive of new people when he becomes aware of a flaw in their character. He knows that something can be learned from everyone, so he wants to work on seeing past their flaws.

“Sid, what was your experience like?” I ask.

“Phew. Man, it was really positive. I had a lot of visuals, and the prevailing colours were purple and green. The energy was very feminine; I guess that’s Mother Ayahuasca,” Sid explains. “There were all these species and animals on a lower plane that moved into this giant funnel that shot upwards,” he continues as he moves his hands from out wide to inward and then upward in a way that reminds me of a tree trunk rising into the sky. “It was powerful, unlike anything I’ve experienced before.”

Carl reaches his left arm back towards us and feels around the mattress. “Guys,” he gasps for air before continuing, “even . . . . . though . . . . . I’m . . . . . not . . . . . talking . . . . . I’m still . . . . . here. You . . . . guys . . . . . are G’s.”

“Thanks Ma. We know. You are too,” I say as I pat Carl on the back.

“You’re a G, Ma,” Sid adds.

“And Sid . . .” Carl gasps for air, “I know . . . I’m hard on you . . . . sometimes . . . . sometimes the way . . . . you behave . . . . pisses me off . . . . how you go . . . . into Sods[6] mode . . . . and you’ll bail . . . . on commitments . . . . you just . . . . don’t give . . . . a fuck . . . . but now . . . . now, I see . . . . that your mind . . . . is like a work . . . . of art . . . . I’ve always . . . . understood your . . . . mind . . . . but now . . . . I see it . . . . as beautiful . . . . I appreciate it . . . . it’s like a work . . . . of art.” Carl pulls his arm back and rolls onto his side as Sid and I smile at each other.

I relate my experience to Sid and we discuss how great of a decision it was to venture down to Peru. “Thank you so much for suggesting this trip, brother,” I smile.

“Thanks for agreeing to it, brother,” Sid smiles back.

Fireworks sound in the not too distant village, and Tatyana, Dan and Jon light sparklers to celebrate the New Year.

Around 1:00 am, five hours since our journey commenced, everyone from the ceremony has either left for their room or drifted into a slumber inside our loving maloca. I lie on the same mattress as Sid to remain close to my brothers. I think of Centurion, Linnea, the humanoids, and Mother Ayahuasca as I fall to sleep.

Footnotes

[1] Burning Man is an annual weeklong festival held around Labour Day in the Black Rock desert of Nevada. The Burning Man organization creates the infrastructure of Black Rock City, wherein 70,000 participants (a.k.a. “Burners”) dedicate themselves to the spirit of community, art, self-expression, and self-reliance. They depart one week later, leaving no trace. As simple as this may seem, trying to explain what Burning Man is to someone who has never been to the event is like trying to explain a kaleidoscope to a blind person. To truly understand this event, one must participate. (Burningman.com)

[2] Robot Heart is a collective of artists and entrepreneurs who tour the world spreading love and music with their incredible parties.

[3] Cryptocurrencies are emerging mediums of exchange, of which Bitcoin is the most well known.

[4] The songs sung by shamans during Ayahuasca ceremonies are known as icaros. Rather than invent the icaros themselves, the shamans claim to learn the songs from spirits. 

[5] A word Rafa said that resonated with me.

[6] Sods is a nickname our friends have for Sid that depicts him in party mode: To Sods, it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. He completely shuts it out and lives only in the present moment.