Tears stream down my cheeks as I meditatively devour a breakfast of oatmeal, laced with Guatemalan chocolate, papaya and banana. As I sit here preparing to share my amazing adventures of the last two months, I do not know where to begin. So much gratitude fills my heart, while at the same time, unexpected emotions swirl and flow on their way toward graceful release.
The music of Josh Groban keeps me company as I quietly meditate and reflect on the profoundly synchronous journey that has again uprooted my life, whisking me away from Guatemala, and launching me into a magical new jungle quest through the wilds of Peru – a journey that has already produced amazing growth and healing, and I have barely begun.
In the paragraphs that follow, I will attempt to capture the highlights of that journey, focusing primarily on the deep emotional aspects of events that can never be adequately captured with words.
Grateful Goodbyes
The final busy week in Guatemala brings beautiful closure. It is a week filled with cleaning and packing, abundant hugs, and frequent tear-filled goodbyes. In the space-clearing category, it is my dear friend Sufi who saves the day. Over the last three and a half years, I have accumulated so many possessions that must be left behind – kitchen supplies, hand-me-down clothing, art/craft items, books, and the list goes on. To my delight, Sufi agrees to take it all off my hands, keeping what serves her, while passing the rest on to local indigenous people who can benefit from my abandoned treasures. I struggle to fit what I plan to keep into two suitcases and a large backpack. How could I have collected so much stuff?
On the night before I leave, Sufi and I walk down to the boat dock and take in the cool night air while basking in the magical energy of Lake Atitlan. As we enjoy this final time together, tears begin to stream down my cheeks and overwhelming gratitude consumes my heart. I first came to this place in April 2010, expecting to stay perhaps a month. Now, here I am three and a half years later, not even the same person. I leave here with so much growth, so much healing, and so much unforgettable experience – none of which could ever have been learned from reading a book or listening to a lecture. Words cannot possibly express the feelings that vibrate through my soul.
Early on Monday, November 11, 2013, I say goodbye to my cozy apartment and walk, escorted by several friends, to the center of little San Marcos La Laguna. Soon, I climb aboard a small minivan, with my first destination being Antigua – the ancient capital of Guatemala. Early the following morning, an airport shuttle picks me up at my hotel. Later, as the wheels of the plane lift off the ground, I catch one final glimpse out the window, watching this magical land of Guatemala disappear beneath the cloud cover below.
I am eager to move on, but my heart tells me I am still, and always will be connected to this Mayan paradise that I have called home for these last few years.
Joyful Reunions
After a quick layover and customs visit in Los Angeles, I arrive in Salt Lake City by mid-afternoon. The reunions are happy and abundant. Over the course of the next three weeks, I enjoy the blessing of frequent family time with siblings, children, and especially grandchildren. I so love those precious grandchildren. And when I am not with family, I take advantage of nonstop opportunities to visit with dear friends, both old and new. Finally, I take advantage of the little gaps, filling all remaining time with shopping and errands, all in preparation for my next adventure to Peru.
Emotional Encounters
But perhaps the unexpected highlight of the trip came at the very end. It was not necessarily a joyful experience, but it did bring healing to deep emotional wounds of the past.
In November 2000, I began a nine-month relationship with Dave. It was both a beautiful experience, and a red-flag-filled growth lesson. I loved him and fully expected that we might end up married, spending our lives together. Nine months later, the relationship self-destructed in agonizingly painful ways, leaving me feeling betrayed and emotionally devastated. For years, as I picked up the emotional pieces, I could not even be in the same room with Dave. His very presence triggered so much pain and repressed emotion that I could not stand the idea of being near him.
I always knew that our relationship was divinely inspired, and I never lost the gratitude for having experienced it, but the only redeeming grace I was able to find in everyday life was the fact that I came away as best friends with his ex-wife, my dear friend Michelle. In fact, Michelle and I are not just friends. We are sisters from different mothers. We both know that we have spent many lifetimes together, Her nonstop love and support have been such an incredible blessing in my life over these last twelve years. I know it is becoming a trite phrase, but words simply cannot express the deep gratitude that occupies a special place in my heart.
As my final weeks in Guatemala ticked away into the history books, I learned that Dave was dying from advanced stage-four-plus cancer. When I first heard of his serious condition, intuitive tingles filled my heart, telling me I would be home during his passing, and that I would have an important role to play in the unfolding events. I even had the feeling that I would be there during his last breaths, as I had been with both of my parents, and with my former mother-in-law.
After arriving in Salt Lake City, confusion filled my heart as I first visited Dave in the nursing home. He was still communicative, but quite emotionally detached. I felt no desire to talk to him, and simply observed as dear Michelle carried the conversation. As we left, I wondered where that original intuition had come from. I felt as if this were my final visit, and I had no desire to see him, ever again.
Emotional Closure
On midday Thursday, December 5, I am out driving around, considering going to a movie. Visits to family and friends are complete, shopping and errands are a thing of the past, and my final two days in Utah are wide open with no plans whatsoever. Suddenly the phone rings. Michelle is on the other end of the call. Dave is in process with ongoing strokes and is being rushed to the emergency room.
There isn’t even a question in my mind when I tell Michelle that I will pick her up in a few minutes. Less than an hour later, Michelle and I stand by Dave’s side in the emergency room as doctors rush to diagnose and treat his ongoing stroke. Over the course of the next six hours, both in the ER and Intensive Care, I find great love and compassion for a man whose presence has triggered nothing but painful disdain in my heart for more than a decade. Peace swells in my heart. I know I am doing the right thing. I know this is exactly where I need to be. I am an adopted sister to Michelle, and I have long been “Aunt Brenda” to her two grown children and grandchild. I am here for them, and my heart swells with joy and gratitude for the opportunity.
On Friday, my final day in Salt Lake City, I am again out driving around when an intuitive feeling consumes me – a feeling telling me to go visit Dave at the nursing home. He is now on hospice care, in a coma, in what could be his final hours. When I arrive, I am alone with him until mid-afternoon. To my unexpected pleasure, I find the courage to speak out loud, genuinely thanking him for the beautiful times we spent together, expressing gratitude for the fun adventures we shared, and for the growth our relationship had brought to me.
Soon, I visit with his two sisters while they have a final visit with their beloved brother. But it is events later that evening that warm my heart the most. With nothing else to do on this final day, I feel guided to hang around the nursing home, providing support to Dave’s two children while they spend a final evening with their daddy. I understand the death process. I have experienced it with my own parents and I can help. In the course of those few hours, my relationship profoundly strengthens with both Michael and Wendy.
Early Saturday morning, Michelle drops me off at the airport and I fly off into the morning sun, with my first destination being LAX – the Los Angeles International airport. I will spend the day in LA hanging out with my dear friend Pam. Later that afternoon, as I check the internet at my hotel, I receive word that Dave passed away.
In spite of the events, gratitude fills my heart as I ponder the amazing healing and closure that has blessed my life in the last two days – and for the beautiful relationships that are strengthening as a result. New clarity and joy begin to take root. The future is looking very bright.
Tourist Time
My flight to Lima is effortless and uneventful, other than the long de-icing delay in Atlanta – a delay that causes us to arrive in Lima about ninety minutes late. It is nearly 3:00 a.m. on Monday, December 9, when the taxicab finally drops me off at my hotel in the Miraflores district of Lima. My home for the next five days will be the Hostal Inka Frog – a tiny little hotel with mid-priced rooms, nestled in a more affluent area, not far from the cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean.
I play tourist on Monday through Thursday, taking advantage of my free time to explore various areas in Lima, walking endlessly as my pasty-white skin shifts to a light brown – a brown that is borderline pink.
I love the beautiful vistas along the famous cliffs of Lima as I look out across the vast expanses of the Pacific, and I take advantage of the opportunity to stick my toes in that cold frothy surf as the rough sandy gravel beneath my feet causes me to step with prickly caution. I explore numerous neighborhoods in Miraflores, participate in a guided tour of nearby ruins, and twice adventure on city buses that take me to the old historic center of Lima where I explore the catacombs of an old monastery and observe the “changing of the guards” at the national palace.
Lima is a huge and expansive city, with around 8.5 million residents. Some of the “barrios” are very affluent and modern, and are very safe for tourists. Others are very third-world in nature, with conditions of poverty and stress. I did not venture into any unsafe areas on my own. It will not be until Saturday that such an experience unexpectedly enters my reality.
A City Tour
I could only giggle when I learned in October that my friend Judy, from the San Diego area, would be going to Peru at about the same time as me. More delight filled my heart as I learned that she had her own journey with the Amazonian plant medicines, and that she too would be spending time in Iquitos. As magical synchronicities would reveal, I was arriving in Iquitos more than a month before my own retreat, and that month would be filled with many shared adventures that might not have happened if the timing were any different.
Judy’s flight arrived in Lima during the wee morning hours of Friday, December 13. As the synchronicity Gods would have it, my hotel was not available for the weekend, so I met Judy later that morning, moving my luggage and sharing her hotel room for the next two days.
On her flight, Judy had engaged in delightful conversation with a young couple from Lima. They had offered to take Judy on a city tour, and I ended up being invited to join them.
On Saturday, December 14, they pick us up at our hotel and first take us to a delightful restaurant where they treat us to a yummy taste of Peruvian cuisine. Later, we climb into their new SUV and tour another local ruin before exploring the beach road, driving to beautiful vista points at the far southern edges of Lima. Since the road at this part of the beach is one-way, our return journey requires us to pass through a tunnel and a quick jaunt through the corner of a less-affluent neighborhood. I am filled with bliss as I enjoy the views through my lowered window. Right now, I do not have a care in the world.
An Unexpected Turn Of Events
Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, a large angry man appears at my window, reaches in, grabs the small cotton purse on my lap, and disappears as quickly as he had appeared. The strap of the purse is around my neck, but the stitching is so weak that it instantly breaks, leaving the strap hanging around my neck. I react instinctively and grab for the tiny purse. As my fingers wrap around the bottom, the bag slips from my grasp, disappearing with the frantic man. It all took place in less than a half-second, and to this day the events replay in my mind as if in slow motion.
Instinctively I try to open my door and give chase, but I cannot get the latch to open. I am grateful when Sam, our driver calms me down and tells me it is good that I did not go out running on my own. I am in a daze of confusion, unaware of what is happening as I can only focus on the fact that my purse was just stolen. It is only later that I fully understood what happened.
As we exited the tunnel, Sam saw a man watching us. The man made a call on his cell phone, and Sam paid close attention. As the SUV slowed in traffic, Sam had instructed his wife (Erika) to close her window because he suspected what might happen … but Sam was unaware that my window was also down, so he did not give me similar instructions. Apparently, the man by the tunnel called someone else and told them that a rich vehicle was driving with the windows down. The recipient of that phone call was waiting down the street for just the right opportunity.
As I continue to try to open my door, Sam calmly backs up the SUV and begins to follow the pointing fingers of neighborhood bystanders – many of whom had observed what had happened. Apparently, a mototaxi had also given chase. Following the pointing fingers, we make three turns that take us into a narrow road. Halfway down the narrow road are several police officers, one of which is holding my bag. Sam tells me to wait until it is safe. When an officer indicates, I get out and approach. He asks me to look in the bag and see if anything is missing.
Just this morning I had gone to the ATM and withdrawn $700 in preparation for my trip to Iquitos tomorrow. All of that cash, plus my debit and credit cards were in a wallet. I had strong intentions to put that wallet in the hotel safe before going on the tour. I had even talked to Judy about putting my wallet in that safe before we left.
As I run through the pockets of the purse, everything seems to be there, except the wallet. But I really do want to believe the wallet is in the safe in the hotel.
“I think everything is here,” I tell the police officer with quiet confidence.
As we drive away, we are never quite sure if the thief was apprehended, or if the police just found the purse and perhaps the robber had slipped through their grasp. We excitedly giggle and talk, reviewing what had happened as if it were a series of events from a scripted movie. It seemed as if the police were there waiting – as if they were staking out the location because there had been robberies here before. It seemed as if everyone around had helped us, and that no harm had really been done. It seemed as if the whole event was nothing but an eye-opening learning experience. In fact, the excitement was all we could talk about as we finished our tour over the next couple of hours.
A Heart Cracked Open
Around 7:00 p.m. on Saturday evening, Judy and I enter our hotel room and open the safe. My heart sinks as I reach inside and move my hand all over the edges of that eerily empty lock box. My wallet is not inside. Over $700 in cash, plus my debit and credit cards are gone. I still have my passport and a tiny bit of money, but there is no time to react – no time to make any decisions.
Judy and I already have tickets in hand. Tomorrow morning we fly to Iquitos. I try to be calm, but sick swirls-of-terror ferment in my belly. The thought of flying off into the jungle with very little money, and no way to get more – well that absolutely frightens me.
I try to meditate and to center myself. I want to be in my heart space before I make further decisions on what to do.
A panicked part of me wants to immediately return to the United States, to lick my losses and regroup, and to start all over again at a later time. I have no desire to cancel my retreat in January, but the idea of going to Iquitos right now feels as if I am stepping into a financial and survival nightmare. Right now, there is not a lot of trust or surrender in my heart.
Finally, accepting the inevitable, I get on the internet to check my online banking, verifying that my accounts have not been accessed. Then, with a huge lump in my gut, I use Skype to cancel all of my cards, knowing that I am finally admitting that the cards really are gone and beyond my reach.
At midnight, and various other times during the early morning hours, I find myself sitting on the floor of the hotel bathroom, quietly sobbing as I release agonizing emotion and seek higher guidance.
“I am still going to Iquitos tomorrow,” I finally reassure myself with trusting surrender. “I don’t know what will happen, or how events will unfold, but I know this is happening for a reason, and that it is all a part of my process. I know this is cracking me open and leaving me vulnerable so that new growth can occur.”
At one point in the middle of the night, I remember something my friend Trish had channeled to me before I began my travels in June 2009. She had told me that during my journey I would find myself alone in the jungle with absolutely nothing. I do not know if this is what she was talking about, but tomorrow morning I am flying off into the Amazon jungle, and at this point in time I feel as if I have absolutely no way to survive when I get there. I know how hard it is to get mail sent to this part of the world, and I believe it will be even more difficult in Iquitos. When I get there, I will be vulnerable and at the mercy of others. This is a space in which I have rarely allowed myself to be.
Eminent Surrender
As the Peruvian Airlines flight carries me across the Andes Mountains and the vast Amazon jungles, I continue to struggle. My heart is trusting but my head is obsessed with the fears of what is going to happen. I cannot get the chatter to cease, and I cannot focus on anything else.
Judy is a lifesaver. She withdraws $500 from her own bank account and loans it to me, and she lets me share her hotel room while I struggle to rearrange my life. The next two days feel like two weeks as a series of synchronous events rapidly unfold. First, I meet Bill Grimes at the “Dawn on the Amazon” restaurant and expedition center. He is so kind and helpful, reassuring me that DHL can easily deliver packages to Iquitos. He even offers to let me send the new cards to his office address. I then get information from a friend on Facebook, telling me about an online service that will let me transfer money from my own bank account, sending it to a bank in Iquitos where I can pick it up in cash in just an hour or two. And finally, a friend in Salt Lake agrees to have all my cards sent to him. He will collect them and mail them to me when they are all together. The final step is to contact my bank and credit card companies to get the new cards sent. Amazingly, I am able to resolve most all of this by the afternoon of Monday, December 16, 2013 – barely a day after we arrived in Iquitos.
As Judy and I walk back to our hotel, we stop briefly to check out an inexpensive hostel (as a possibility for me) and I then ask if she would mind stopping to check an apartment with me. As I walk around the cozy little apartment, it catches my heart and I know I will be staying here for the next month. I don’t even bother to look anywhere else.
Tuesday morning, after another bank transfer, I return to the apartment, pay my rent in cash, arrange to move in the next morning, and I begin to relax. Finally, I can breathe and start to fully surrender to the present moment. Those terrifying survival fears seem to be disappearing.
An Unknown Destination
It really is a flurry of whirling activity. On that first Monday evening, one of Judy’s friends shows up at our hotel lobby around 4:30 p.m. and asks if we would like to participate in an Ayahuasca ceremony. It is our second night in Iquitos, and I am still in the midst of landing on my feet – yet the only obvious answer to that question is …
“Yes, I would love to do a ceremony tonight,” I tell Jose and Judy.
Thirty minutes later, Jose Navas – a Shaman here in Iquitos, picks us up at the hotel, escorts us to a mototaxi, and gives directions to the driver. Without a second to think, we are zooming down the taxi-crowded streets of Iquitos headed toward an unknown destination.
The Child Pose
Ten minutes later, we are walking through a very humble neighborhood, descending down a small hill to the shore of the Rio Itaya. We are joined by Jose and two other people as we board a small wooden boat that will take us up the river to a small retreat center where we will spend the night in ceremony.
I cannot believe how fast everything is happening. I haven’t even had time to come up for air, and here I am, floating down a river in the Amazon jungle, giggling with magical wonder and delight.
It is an intense but gentle ceremony, nothing like my first two experiences with Ayahuasca. About halfway through the journey, as my head spins with intense dizziness, I feel intuitive guidance to surrender … to quit trying to sit properly with focus … and to instead lean forward on my mattress, placing myself in a yoga “child pose”, on my hands and knees with my face resting on my hands.
Almost immediately, I feel strong guidance telling me that this is how I have spent my entire life. I am like an armadillo, cowering on the ground, with my back forming a protective shell, hiding from the world, trying to protect something inside of me from being exposed or harmed.
I do vomit a couple of times during the evening, releasing unknown layers of emotion, but other than that, the evening is gentle. The ceremony ends by 10:30 p.m., and I spend the remainder of the night trying to rest and sleep when possible.
I got what I came for. A lot happened, but I do not have much mental understanding of what it means – and I am fine with that. I clearly understand that I was given an experiential glimpse of why I am still so stuck. I continue to have huge protective shells around me as I try to protect deep childhood wounds from being exposed to the light of day. In fact, my subconscious body-clenching is a major component of those shells.
I loved working with Jose tonight. His icaros (shamanic songs) were perfect for what I needed. I experienced a sense of deep trust as I felt his confident space-holding energy keeping me safe throughout the evening.
What a beautiful way to spend my second night in Iquitos! It definitely helped to calm me down and to remind me of why I am here.
Emotional Giggles
On Tuesday, after dealing with another bank transfer and paying the rent on my new apartment, I hang out with Judy. It seems like her attempts to make plans are all falling through, but at just the perfect moment, more synchronicities occur and we end up spending the evening at the home of her first teacher here in Iquitos – at the home of a shaman named Javier. I love the evening conversation, and am delighted by how relaxed and giggly I am now feeling.
Wow, what a difference three days can make – three days that now feel like three weeks. It was just Saturday night that I was emotionally squirming with inner turmoil, and now I am laughing and joking with pure happiness.
To Tamshiyacu And Back Again
Early Wednesday morning (December 18, 2013) I pack up my belongings, carry them two blocks, and check in to my new apartment. But the only thing I do is set by bags on the kitchen floor before quickly turning around and leaving.
Judy and I have other plans. Today, Judy begins her own two-week retreat, and she has graciously invited me to join her in her journey. After checking out of her hotel, we catch a mototaxi to an unfamiliar (to us) boat dock, where we quickly squeeze in as the last two passengers on a boat destined for a town named Tamshiyacu. The journey involves an hour-and-ten-minute speedboat ride up the Amazon River.
It is an amazing adventure – the logistics of which I have verbally and visually documented in my photo post (Iquitos Part 2).
That night, Don Lucho (Judy’s teacher for the next two weeks) led the two of us in a short Ayahuasca ceremony.
Don Lucho’s medicine is intense. As he sings his icaros, I feel like every sound in the room literally shakes me from the inside of my head. My rational mind is somewhat disappointed by the lack of mental clarity surrounding the evening’s events, yet my heart reassures me that it was a good experience, and that for me, part of the process tonight was to quit trying to understand or analyze everything that happened.
I purged several times, and came away with a feeling of trust and surrender that all is well. Thursday afternoon, I say goodbye to Judy as Don Lucho takes me back to the boat dock on his motorcycle. The long river journey back to Iquitos is delightful … and for the first time in nearly a week, I am now totally on my own. The moment I get back to my new apartment, I unpack, shower, and take a very long nap. It has been an exhausting journey – the second of many to come.
Settling In
On Friday, I begin what turns into a several day journey of exploring Iquitos, searching stores to find long-sleeve shirts to protect me from the bugs and sun, and scouring the huge Belen street market in an attempt to stock my kitchen with a paring knife, dish towels, rice, beans, fruits, and other necessary supplies. It takes quite a bit of work to set up apartment living in a new place. There are so many little details to take care of, and doing so in sweltering sun and humidity proves to be exhausting.
As Saturday, December 21 enters the history books, I find it nearly impossible to realize that it has only been exactly one week since the robbery in Lima. At this point in time, it literally feels like lifetimes ago.
I spend the next several days, including Christmas day, just being lazy and gentle with myself as I adjust to the climate and to the surrounding chaos of Iquitos – a little city with crowded streets, intense energy, and constant street noise. And at this time of year, everyone is rushing to get ready for the holidays.
During this time, I feel no desire to go out and be social. I want to isolate, rest, process, and simply be gentle with myself. I even feel a tiny bit of depression bubbling to the surface.
About Face
It is Thursday, December 26, when the emotions really start moving.
I spend the morning feeling tired and lazy. In a moment of exhaustion, I decide to pick up a new book “A Journey to Oneness”. I bought it in Utah and brought it with me. It is Rasha’s new book, one that describes her personal journey as she struggled to heal her own life while transcribing/channeling the “Oneness” book.
In the early chapters, as I read about some of Rasha’s own deeply stuck moments, I suddenly encounter a wall of my own deep emotions – emotions of stuckness, anger, and apathy. After an intense period of deep sobbing, allowing myself to feel and process these emotions, I have a newfound desire to raise my own energetic vibrations.
Soon, I am listening to beautiful music; then I resume a meditation practice that has eluded me all week. Finally, I am balanced and energized, ready to begin a journey of new adventures.
I walk over to his restaurant and ask my new friend Bill for any information he might have about shamans in the area. He says he normally doesn’t give out advice on such things, but then mentions that he has heard good things about someone named Slocum at a center called “Amaru Spirit”.
I quickly fire off an email to both Slocum and to several other local shamanic centers. Slocum replies almost immediately, telling me there is a ceremony tomorrow, and that he would like to talk to me first, but that I can come if I want. But when I respond saying “Yes, I want to come, how do I get there?” he never replies.
Social Delight
Friday, I feel a deep sense of trust, knowing that I will be doing a ceremony tonight even though I have still not yet heard from Slocum. I go about my day with a sense of confidence, maintaining a high vibration meditative state.
Suddenly, at noon, I check my computer and see an email from Slocum telling me he is in town and will meet me at 2:00 p.m. at Ari’s restaurant. I pack my bag with full confidence. Inner intuitions tell me to be prepared, and that I will be leaving the restaurant with Slocum, going straight to his retreat center. Those intuitions prove to be correct. I feel a strong connection with Slocum’s energy, and by 3:30 p.m. we have completed the twenty-minute journey up the Itaya river and Slocum is giving me a tour of his jungle facilities.
Almost effortlessly, I bond with the other participants at Amaru Spirit, enjoying deep and delightful conversations with people all afternoon. I haven’t felt this confident and social in a very long time. I love how I feel.
Lost In Suffering
But I am not here for the social aspect; it is the ceremony that I came for. The medicine comes on quickly, and is the most intense I have experienced to date. For the first few hours, I am lost in the swirl of dizzying intensity. It is not a pleasant experience. I feel as if I am being energetically attacked, and that part of me is doing everything it can to resist.
It is only later that I realize this is exactly what was happening. I was being shown how Madre Ayahuasca was trying to work on my walls of resistance – on my armadillo shell of protection that has been in place for so long. Loving energies were trying to help me tear down my resistance, but due to a life of protective barriers, those energies felt like a bombarding attack on my comfort and safety.
For the latter half of the ceremony, I moan and shake in fear and sheer exhaustion. Toward the end of the ceremony, I realize that what I believed to be fear is really a feeling of intense suffering and misery – deep core emotions that my shell was trying to protect, but that were now beginning to surface uncontrollably.
As I sit in this intense emotion, I attempt to focus. It seems that I am judging myself, telling myself I should not be feeling this way – that it is wrong to suffer and be in misery – that it is wrong to feel such victim-y emotions.
As I struggle through this journey, every out-breath is exhausting, moaning, whimpering, and draining. Every in-breath takes deep effort and focus. I am totally lost in the agony.
Lost In Suffering
Finally, intuitions tell me that my difficult experience stems from the fact that I am resisting, and that I instead need to surrender fully. As I decide to relax and just let go, I get the strong sensation that a part of me is literally dying – that I am energetically giving up the fight and am about to disappear.
I still do not mentally understand what is happening, but I realize it is time to stop trying to be strong.
I vomited and purged many times tonight, but because of the intensity, I have very little memory of any of that. One time I went into the bathroom and then got lost in ensuing purging. A while later, Slocum came out to rescue me. After repeatedly telling him I was fine, I finally realized that I was not … and that I was confused and stuck in that confusion. I then allowed him to escort me back to my mattress. I am not really sure how long I was out there.
The only thing that is clear about this ceremony is that I was completely lost in the misery and suffering, attempting to surrender, but unable to ground and center myself.
Finally, when Slocum approached and asked if I would like an energetic cleansing, I eagerly responded, “Yes, please.”
Compassionate Cleansing
Soon, Slocum asks again, and I realize that he wants me to stand up and walk with him to the front of the room, where I will lay down on the floor in front of our shaman, Roman – a man that I like to describe as an incredibly loving teddy-bear of a shaman.
Roman soon splashes a custom-made perfumed water on my head, face, neck, and shoulders. The liquid is profoundly soothing and grounding, quickly bringing me back to glimpses of peace. But I keep getting lost and going back into my confusing suffering.
Repeatedly Roman works with me until I am finally balanced. He whispers to me that I am a “Guerrerra valiente” (A valiant warrior), and that I have a huge heart, and that it is a pleasure for him to work with me.
“Igualmente,” I tell him, meaning that it is equally a pleasure for me. I am back, feeling mostly grounded and balanced.
Next, Slocum asks if I would like him to do a cleansing on me too. As Slocum starts to work with his Tibetan singing bowls, I begin to sob almost immediately. I am overflowing with gratitude and love. Both of these men are being so gentle and compassionate. Finally, when Slocum pats me all over with a bundle of sacred basil, I feel as if I am giggling in light. I return to my seat and sit in blissful peace until the end of the ceremony (which ends around midnight).
God Drama Realizations
As I sit talking to Slocum at the end of the ceremony, a woman named Jann joins us. Soon, Jann and I are new friends. Knowing that neither of us is going to sleep anyway, we sit in the ceremony room, conversing all night long, not stopping till nearly 5:00 a.m. when I finally say that I need to try to rest a little.
After enjoying a deliciously grounding, cacao-laced smoothy on Saturday morning, I ride back into Iquitos, sharing a boat with Slocum and his beautiful family. The rest of the day is mostly a blur. After taking a short nap, I suddenly wake up feeling as if I am back in ceremony. The energy is intense and overwhelming. That suffering and misery are back and it takes every ounce of strength that I can muster to keep returning to a balanced and centered state.
I soon realize that I am dealing with a life of reinforced programming – conditioning that automatically takes me to a state of repressed suffering – conditioning that has prevented me from allowing true loving joy or giggles into my life in anything more than a fleeting way. I now clearly understand that I am being given an opportunity to practice making a new choice – choosing to allow myself to feel the energetic pain and emotion, while at the same time choosing to remain in my light, joy, and loving power.
In fact, I suddenly realize that I am finally being experientially shown the core of my God Drama – of the game I play with deity. I have so much childhood pain and suffering buried inside of me, and I have refused to let it go until a higher power apologizes and makes it all better. I have understood all of this at a mental level for a very long time, but finally, I am beginning to experience it at a level other than rational mind. This suffering and pain really are my treasures, “my precious” ring, my ammunition against God for allowing a child to go through so much energetic misery.
It seems that my automatic energetic reaction to something that wants to tear down my walls is to resist the light and joy, and to instead withdraw and lick my wounds, attempting to keep those wounds safe and protected from outside interference.
A Crescendo Of Clarity
As I further meditate, the clarity continues to unfold. I really did experience intense energetic suffering as a tiny child. I was and am an incredibly sensitive empath that sponges up the painful emotions of everyone around me. It is so automatic that I had no choice but to give up and surrender to a life of misery and suffering. I built up layer after layer of shells and armor around that pain.
These protective layers kept me safe and shutdown, helping me to function normally in my life, keeping me alive and safe from the onslaught of bombarding energies. But these same protective layers also kept out the love and light that I so deeply craved, and they kept my own power and creativity trapped inside, with me having no connection to it nor awareness of it.
“I am so tired of this suffering,” I tell myself. “I am so tired of these protective walls. They have kept me safe and alive, but it is time to let them crumble and fall … time to surrender and to make the choice of joy, love, and peace.”
There is no outside force punishing me and keeping me from experiencing my own magic and loving power. It is my own protective walls that keep this magic and power hidden. And it is my God Drama that keeps me from allowing those walls to come down.
Conscious Choices
I am amazed by the fact that every time I rest over the next few days, these same intense energies again consume me. It is as if I am repeatedly returning to another Ayahuasca ceremony. I am on constant alert to focus and ground myself – to make these new choices of Joy and Love.
I treat the experience as a profound training ground … as an incredible opportunity to learn and grow in ways that I could never do before. I understand that it is me and my suffering that have kept me stuck, and that now, the healing can only come when I make the constant effort to change my automatic reactions.
I often used to resent Keith (in Guatemala) when he explained that these choices were “Conscious choices with blinders on”. I could never admit responsibility for that until now. Today I fully understand that it is a conscious choice to identify with the suffering that remains locked up inside, and it is a conscious choice to let it leave me – to have to actually feel it, but to not identify with it in any way.
Instead, I am learning to allow the suffering while profoundly loving the little child in me that suffered so profoundly as a tiny baby, as a child, as a teenager, and through most of my life. I can now love myself for having gone through this experience – doing so in ways that were never before possible.
Are You Sure?
Four days after the ceremony, on New Years Eve, I am finally strong enough to function normally … and guess what. I have decided to go to another ceremony tonight at Slocum’s Amaru Spirit retreat center. I cannot think of a better way to leave the old year and enter the new.
At barely twenty minutes into the ceremony, I am again pulled into an intense inner journey. The energy and vibrations are extremely intense at first. But the nice part about this ceremony is that I manage to not get lost. When I am able to remember, I focus on surrender. It is a constant struggle to focus on my breath, to take responsibility for my energetic state, and to remain focused on the light.
For whatever reason, about 90 minutes after the ceremony begins, as Slocum offers a second dose, I feel intuitively guided to go up front and drink more. I am beginning to return to normal and the intensity is wearing off. Something inside tells me I need to go deeper.
“Are you sure?” Slocum asks cautiously.
“Yes,” I respond with confidence.
Empath Energy Experiences
Wow, shortly after I drink the second dose, I am consumed by the intensity. Soon, a new girl who is drinking for her first time has an intense round of purging and sobbing. I feel happy for her as I sense her release. But then she decides she is done and wants to leave the ceremony. The assistant gently attempts to persuade her to stay, telling her that for her own safety, she is not allowed to leave the ceremony. She begins to argue and the emotions get intense.
Normally, I would not share any of this, but it is important for my own process. Suddenly, as the young woman argues outside, I glance up with eyes open, and I visually see an intense wave of dark putrid energy emitting from her location. It is consuming the room and coming right at me.
I both see and feel this dark, black, emotional, yucky energy, but I feel no fear. Instead, I stay in my heart, realizing that I am being given a profound example of where my suffering and misery came from. Tonight I am visually seeing the energy. I am aware of it and not letting it enter me. But as a tiny baby, and throughout my life, I have been a magnet for this same type of energy, and it has filled me repeatedly, causing me to be so confused and struggling.
Needless to say, as this experience of dark energy reaches its intensity, I go through some intense vomiting. It is a profound part of my process as I purge a great deal.
A Flow Of Suffering
Somewhere in here, I get lost and begin to cling to my bucket while I return to the suffering and misery.
The experience is so intense that I do not have the strength or willpower to focus on light and love. It just takes too much effort and I do not have the capacity right now. I don’t want to even try. I can’t try. Instead, I just give up and whimper in misery as I surrender to what is happening. (It is only in retrospect that I realize all of this was perfect.)
This time, with my resistance gone, I no longer experience the energetic pounding that banged on my protective walls in previous ceremonies. Even with “being lost”, I clearly understand that what I am now experiencing is all childhood stuff – stuff that I have been protecting – stuff that is still inside of me – stuff that I need to release – and stuff that I do have to feel as it is on its way out. It is not fun, but it IS necessary.
Complete Surrender
Later, during the ceremonial phase where Slocum and Roman help me with another energetic cleanse, I am shocked by how different this one becomes. Unlike four nights ago, nothing that Roman or Slocum do seems to bring me any grounding energy. I seem to be resisting and unable to let go.
I moan and whimper as Roman and Slocum work with me, doing whatever they were doing. (I really do not remember much.)
Finally, in a moment of complete exhaustion I give up and momentarily experience deep peace.
“There, finally, almost there,” I hear Roman whisper to Slocum.
I quickly realize that they are very closely watching my energy, helping me, guiding me at other levels. I have reached a state of total surrender where everything is suddenly calm and quiet. But it is fleeting, and within seconds I return to the agitated whimpering.
A minute or two later I again return to that state of calm and quiet, where all desire to whimper and suffer has vanished. Again Roman comments that I am there. This time it lasts longer. Repeatedly I start to slip away into the suffering before catching myself and again surrendering.
“The peace I seek comes from giving up, not fighting, not resisting, and not judging anything,” I ponder to myself. “Wow!”
Soon, after perhaps ten minutes of quiet bliss, Slocum escorts me back to my mattress, and I practice this new awareness until midnight when the ceremony ends. I am profoundly enjoying a sense of playfulness and joy. The energies continue to flow, but they are no longer overwhelming me. Instead, they are dancing around me in a way that does not affect me.
An All-Night Training
After the ceremony ends, I suddenly get lost in a pattern of suffering and nausea. I want to purge but cannot. I want help from Slocum, but clearly get the intuition telling me I am running an old pattern of self-sabotage – a pattern of insisting on outside help.
I don’t want to admit it, but I am being shown how I tend to play helpless, throwing a tantrum and insisting that others help me when I already know that if I put forth the required effort, I can do it all by myself. My God Drama anger demands that the healing needs to be done TO me – that I need my apology – that I need Higher Powers to make everything right – that I am not responsible and shouldn’t have to do this by myself.
Slocum encourages me to drink lots of water, and tells me this might help me purge. I take this as a hint that I should purge and vomit. But then, as I meditate back to that “Complete Surrender” place, the nausea vanishes. Soon the nausea returns and I again suffer and want to purge. Then I meditate back to that “Complete Surrender” space and feel peaceful yet again.
After a while, most everyone has gone back to their rooms – all except Slocum’s assistant. I feel as if I am still deeply journeying from my second dose, and I am still unable to consistently remain in my balanced state. Finally, around 2:30 a.m., as I reach a state of peaceful relaxation, I tell Slocum’s assistant that I am OK with being alone – and soon, I am just that, all alone in the ceremonial maloca.
Suddenly, I feel quite vulnerable and afraid. Again, I return to that complete surrender space, and the fear vanishes.
I am profoundly aware that I am experiencing a magical training – but this does not make the difficult experience any easier. I go in and out of this space, cycling between two extremes until 4:00 a.m. when the medicine begins to wear off. Soon, I find myself feeling increasing joy. I decide to sing some of my favorite inspirational songs, and I do so for 90 minutes. I stand up and dance around the room, repeating my personal mission statement with deep passion.
I am now in a beautiful energy. I feel as if I am home. I have found my place of ecstatic peace. Newfound hope fills my heart.
“I can do this,” I giggle. “I am healing myself and I CAN do this.”
As the sun comes up, I remain sleepless. As I go to the kitchen area for breakfast, I am exhausted and emotional. Profound new insights flow through me – insights into a life of self-sabotaging behavior – insights that are not especially fun to share with others. I can no longer blame anyone or anything else for how I feel. I clearly understand that everything is my choice.
In ways that cannot be communicated through words, I profoundly understand why it is easier to remain lost and alone rather than to embrace the strong and powerful magic of who I really am.
New Year, New Joy
Given my exhaustion and ongoing processing, Slocum offers to let me stay an extra day for free, allowing me to sleep in a little area above the ceremonial maloca. It is not luxury, but it has a bed with a mosquito net; and that is all I need.
I spend New Years Day in and out of intense energy. Sometimes, just like before, I feel as if I am back in ceremony. The energies are intense at times as I nap and return to my training ground of “Choosing joy and peace over the suffering”. It requires constant focus and effort.
Late that night, around 11:00 p.m., I find myself in a profoundly magical space as I use my voice box to vocally create vibrations that consume my whole body. Suddenly, I return to a state of magical joy and giggles. Soon, I sit up in bed and begin to sing songs, making up words and tunes that I have never before heard. I light a candle and dance around my room, leaving candles lit for most of the night.
I am in a state of near-bliss, overflowing with self-love, peace, joy, trust, and surrender – a state of not needing anything to be different – a state of not needing to sleep.
Finally, at 12:30 a.m., I again try to sleep, and immediately I am consumed by another round of intense journeying, with so much energy flowing through me that it feels as if my skin is crawling on the inside. Intuitively, I know that this is energy stuff that wants to shift and release at an energetic level. I surrender to this state, and for the next two hours go through intense practice of surrender and trust.
My sensitivities are wide open right now. I feel the blockages in my body. I feel the vibrations of my own vocal sounds in magical ways. I am feeling energies like never before.
Finally, around 2:30 a.m., I again try to sleep. I am disoriented and confused at times, but I think I actually get about three hours of deep, relaxed sleep. When I wake up around 6:00 a.m., I realize that I have been doing a great deal of dreaming – dreams where I was lucid and awake, but so weak I could do nothing but watch with awareness.
I Did It
Thursday, January 2, 2014, as I go to the kitchen area for breakfast, I find myself in beautiful energy. In spite of very little sleep I am energized and feeling very social.
“I did it,” I proudly congratulate myself. “I stayed in that peaceful place all night long, in spite of intense inner resistance.”
Shortly before noon, I take a boat back to Iquitos where I shower, take notes, and prepare for a long nap. But within minutes after resting my head on my pillow, I feel guided to get up and check my email and go get lunch. Just minutes before, Judy had emailed me, telling me she was back in town and asking if I want to go get lunch.
I love how synchronous guidance works.
Loving The Practice
That night, as I rest on my pillow, the energies again overwhelm me. Soon, as I surrender I find myself in a state of beautiful presence, observing the energies flowing in me without attachment to their intensity.
“Wow, this is beautiful,” I ponder.
Repeatedly I go back to bed, drift off into deep sleep, and again wake up in intense energy. Over and over again, I use this as a training ground to return to loving surrender. I am actually loving the training practice. It is a lot of work to remain in this centered space, but I am not about to give up.
The realizations are now stronger than ever that it was the feeling of being overwhelmed as a child – overwhelmed by the misery and sadness – that caused me to give up in futility and apathy.
Synchronous Ceremonies
Friday morning, feeling tired with no motivation to cook, I follow a hunch to go out for breakfast. To my surprise, when I reach the restaurant, I find Don Lucho … and then, when I look closer, Judy and another woman are with him. I am invited to sit down as Don Lucho excuses himself. It turns out to be another magical morning where synchronicities abound. I love the social time with Judy, and establish an amazing connection with Patricia, a woman from Chili.
I love the synchronous flow that is so pronounced in my journey right now. As soon as Patricia goes to the airport, Judy calls another shaman – a seventy-five year old deeply-experienced shaman named Adela. Soon, we are visiting with Adela at her house, arranging to go a ceremony with her tomorrow night.
Then, on Saturday morning, Judy and I go out to visit someone she has communicated with but never met in person – another shaman named Ron Wheelock. In the course of two days, I have met two new shamans, and arranged for two more ceremonies, the first of which is tonight.
Ending Self-Judgmennt
There are nine of us in Adela’s small private ceremonial maloca. It is old, rustic, and small, with a tiny little bathroom.
The medicine is strong, and I remember very little of the journey. The only thing I know for sure is that by 11:00 p.m., I was again getting lost in that agonizing space of misery and suffering. This time, however, I clearly remember that nothing in the ceremony itself had triggered this space. I am quite clear that what is moving through me is merely old emotion that wants to flow and be released.
As the ceremony ends, I am just entering the height of the suffering, struggling not to whimper and moan in a way that will disturb others.
The clarity that evolves through the long sleepless night tells me that, as a child, I was not allowed to cry or suffer. Yes, I felt emotions deeply, but was required to end their expression as quickly as possible. I felt self-conscious about verbally expressing my suffering, as if it was wrong to let any of my emotion come up in a way that might bother or disturb others. It is during this ceremony that I finally realize that I really need to give full permission to this suffering, allowing it to come up so it can flow out.
All of my life I have judged myself, being harsh with myself for feeling the pain, and not allowing myself to go there – bottling everything up instead.
During the long night after the ceremony, I let go of that self-judgment. I no longer believe that I am weak or wrong if I surrender to emotions that overwhelm me.
All day Sunday, I isolate and remain at home, being gentle with myself while allowing all feelings to come and go, judging nothing. That night, I sleep very well.
Joy Over Suffering
After a quiet Monday, spending one last day hanging out with Judy, I pack my small daypack and meet Judy around 11:20 a.m. on Tuesday morning, January 7, 2014.
Today we are both embarking on another journey, first sharing a mototaxi to the airport where Judy will fly home. Then, the same mototaxi will take me further out into the wild, the camp of Ron Wheelock. Some people call him the gringo shaman. Having gone through his own shamanic training here in the jungle, Ron now leads his own ceremonies, all by himself.
I arrive at his camp shortly after noon, and quickly make seven new friends. I feel alive and socially confident, and am quite eager to participate in another ceremony. In fact, intuitions tell me that I will likely stay here three nights so that I can take in a second ceremony on Thursday, January 9.
I begin the Tuesday ceremony with a milder dose of medicine. I am actually quite enjoying the more gentle effect until about midway through the evening when Ron decides to play a large gong in the middle of his ceremonial maloca.
At first, the loud metallic vibrations send pleasurable shivers of energy throughout my body, but after a while I begin to feel intense agitated energy, causing me to try to vomit. To my shock, as the gong experience ends, I find myself right back in layers of intense suffering. I find it extremely difficult to balance myself.
I spend the rest of the evening trying to return to that state of “Complete Surrender” that had worked so well in previous ceremonies. But tonight, I simply cannot get there. I can get close, but I never reach the peace.
Instead, I go through another layer of deep practice in choosing “Joy over the Suffering”.
High Vibes Please
When Ron ends the ceremony at midnight, I do not feel done. Soon I go to bed, but the suffering/joy practice continues. Finally, at around 1:00 a.m., I feel guidance telling me that I am about to vomit and that I need to go outside to the outhouse NOW. When I get there, the feeling comes on and I go through an intense layer of purging – not especially fun but very healing.
As before, I spend most of the night in a focused effort to remain balanced. It seems as if I am repeating the experience of my second ceremony with Slocum, giving me ample opportunity to put my new growth lessons into practice. All night long, I practice, practice, and practice, doing all I can to trust and surrender … to choose joy and light.
On Wednesday, I feel exhausted, and spend a great deal of time resting, regaining strength for the Thursday ceremony.
On Thursday, I disengage through most of the day. I am social, but find that some of the conversations today are really triggering me. I clearly see that this is preparing me for tonight, but even so, I try to avoid any conversation that has a lower vibration. I want to maintain a high energy and am not in a space where I want to expose myself to anything that might influence my energy in a draining way.
An Empath Journey
That night, after drinking a full dose of medicine, I feel almost nothing nearly an hour and a half later. Following intuitive feelings, I approach Ron and ask for more. He gives me another ¾ dose. Fifteen minutes later, I am deep in a very intense journey.
Prior to the ceremony, in my meditation, I had asked for an experience that would bring me profound understanding of my empath abilities, and how I tend to absorb the dense energies of others. I got exactly what I asked for.
Almost immediately, I felt as if the room was filled with intense, dark energy. I was not frightened. There were no demons wanting to attack me. It was just heavy, dark, dense, energy.
Then, as Ron began to play the gong, I opened my eyes and saw what looked like very rough currents of dark, tar-like energy flowing from the gong, filling the room and headed right for me. The experience was intense and took me immediately into deep purging, returning me to the yes/no/yes/no journey between suffering and joy.
Is It Mine?
For the remainder of the evening I pay deep attention to my energetic state, and every time I start to get lost in the suffering, I ask myself the question: “Is this energy even mine?”
Almost every time I ask, my suffering simply vanishes and the intuitive answer is, “No, I am just feeling outside energies.”
Repeatedly, as each wave of suffering attacks me, I ask the question and the awareness causes the energy to dissipate. Profound clarity whispers loudly that most of the suffering I have felt my whole life was just the same – it was not even my energy.
In cacao ceremonies, Keith had often helped me to understand just how strong my group empath abilities are – how I literally inhale the painful energies of others on a group and sometimes global level. I had many experiences in those ceremonies to convince me that this is true.
But tonight, playing with these energies in the Ayahuasca ceremony, I took that level of understanding to a profoundly new level – one way beyond the rational mind. I saw and experienced those energies in another context.
Now, it is more clear than ever before that most of the suffering I went through as a child was not physically caused. It was emotional energies drawn to me like a powerful magnet. I took it all in, believed it to all to be mine, felt it deeply, and judged myself for it.
“Is this even mine?” is now a question that I plan to always ask myself in the future.
I Choose Joy And Giggling
Once I figure out this lesson, I am able to spend the final hour of the ceremony in a very good and powerful space. I still cycle in and out of the energies, but I do it with awareness and power.
But when I go to bed just after midnight, I am immediately consumed by another round of “practice time.” As has been the pattern lately, I spend the next five hours practicing in what turns out to be another difficult journey.
It is only during the early morning of Friday, January 10, that I am able to reach a state of giggling joy. As before, I eventually find myself quietly singing songs and reciting my personal mission statement, while at times gigging and dancing with Bobby-bear. That cute little teddy bear has been with me to every one of my Ayahuasca ceremonies.
Later Friday afternoon, Ron is kind enough to drive me and two other people, taking us in his truck on the long drive back into Iquitos. After a much needed shower and dinner, my bed rarely felt more inviting.
I Choose Joy And Love
It is now Wednesday, January 15, 2014. I feel more motivated and alive than ever before. After spending Saturday resting and regaining strength, I have been working nonstop with focused passion and energy, organizing, uploading, and posting nearly 450 photos – a quest that has consumed all of three days. Today, I write with equal intensity and passion.
I feel newfound hope and a zest for life – hope and playful joy that have been absent throughout conscious memory. I know I am not done with my journey, and I understand that there likely remains a great deal of repressed emotion to deal with.
Each day will bring new adventures in growth, new healing, and new beginnings.
In fact, in just two and a half days, I begin the new journey that brought me to Iquitos in the first place. On Saturday morning, I meet the rest of my group at a local hotel. After a bus ride and an hour long ride up the Nanay river, we will then hike for another hour to our retreat center. From January 18 through April 16, I will be at a jungle lodge called the “Temple of the Way of Light.” I will be participating in three months of ceremonies, medicine plant diets, yoga, mediation, integrations, and who knows what.
The only thing I know for sure is that it will be filled with exciting growth and life changing experiences.
I had no idea what I would do during my first month in Iquitos. I am quite grateful that I did not even try to figure it out. I could never have orchestrated such magical growth and experiences if I had tried to plan them in advance.
The growth of this last month has been profound and magical. My experiences with Keith in Guatemala prepared me well, giving me deep understanding of my blockages. Madre Ayahuasca is taking me deeper into those blockages in a way the rational mind could never orchestrate.
As I prepare for what I expect to be an amazing three months of growth, the only thing I know for sure right now is that “I choose Joy and Love.” There is not much else that matters.
Copyright © 2014 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved