Disclaimer: Ayahuasca ceremonies are legal in Peru. The one I attended was supervised by two shamans, a couple, whose attentiveness to our well-being and comfort was exemplary.
Of course, I had heard the stories: the discomfort, the visions, the haunting long after administration of the medicine. Like many, I was curious about its effects, wondering what grand insight would be bestowed upon me (most people are very evasive about this and provide the vague blanket statement of: "it's different for everyone"; it's rather annoying). I imagined myself travelling to the cosmos (and hopefully back again to Earth), landing on distant planets and meeting if not the Mondoshawan at least the Draco or someone from our vast Universe! Well, in that respect, I was disappointed. Instead, what I was amazed by was the ceremony itself.
Our shamans, a couple, welcomed us in their maloca, at the top of a steep hill in a small village situated in the heart of the Sacred Valley. The location itself could not have been more picturesque, and as I sat on cushions, blankets piled high on either side of me, in the neat, round room, a fire in the centre, instruments and herbs carefully set out, I tried to imagine our guests carefully constructing their sacred space with red clay for the walls and reeds for the thatched roof. Immediately I felt at home, watching my friends get ready, some with relish, others with trepidation. Our shamans did not try to impress us; they proceeded with simplicity to burn the palo santo which would cleanse the air, prepare the rapé (sacred tobacco) and the ayahuasca also called the Grandmother medicine. The drink was so gentle that no one got sick; some of us fell asleep after a couple of hours. For my part, I was mesmerized by the music our shaman played: the drums, the flute, the panpipes, hitting high and low notes to elicit different responses. My response was what it always is to music: I happily danced on my cot. When the shaman came to check on me and asked how I was doing, I shouted out: bailar! Clearly, I was doing well, feeling impish and playful, delighted to be surrounded by friends, warmed by the fire, snuggled in blankets. We spent the night there, each experiencing the moment and dreaming in our own way.
The next morning, despite the lack of sleep (I ebbed in and out) and my unchanged clothes, I felt refreshed. The air was crisp, the hummingbirds were buzzing about, the flowers were bright. I did not have any aftereffects, even though I know some of my travel companions did. I just felt grateful to be there among them all, in this remote place, enjoying a unique moment.
This was my first journey. Here is what I learned:
- Dress warmly; now I know what the fuss is about concerning journey blankets. We were in autumn in the mountains in a maloka that was not insulated. The blankets provided were wonderful but I could have used an extra sweater.
- Find a trustworthy shaman and then, trust the shaman; he asked us for whom this was a first; he monitored all of us and adjusted doses accordingly.
- Experience the moment; I was expecting to go to space and instead was firmly rooted on Earth. It was fabulous: I get to remember the smells, sights and sounds of the ceremony.
- Focus on yourself. It is the shaman's responsibility to look after others. I noticed that some of my friends were going through emotional highs and lows. It was okay; they were well supported. I was happy to wiggle dance in my cot.
Below is a petrified section of the ayahuasca vine, affectionately called the Grandmother.
