“!Ayahuasca, Ayahuasca, where do we go from here?”

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Last night we had an Ayahuasca ceremony – a psychedelic ritual with a medicine man, a spiritual cleansing; we met a curandero, were touched upon and blessed by, seen by, seen right through, in a sense, by a shaman; we became acquainted with a Yachak. He has a mobile phone, we have his card, and he saw my stomach acid and my bad back and unsurprisingly noted that colona’s energy was pure (or sorted, or whatever the term was).

The dosage was less than mild, it was more of an accustomisation and practice of the concentration and attunement to the skills required to go on a full blown journey into the unknown. It was a coming together of things and an answer to some preliminary questions: what are our bodies like, how do they react to this, to which degree are we sensitised to the psychedelic realm, how do we pick up on various energies, energetic gestures and do we remain calm and focused? Things like that were “somewhat dealt with”. It was fairly short, all in all 3-4 hours, didn’t time it very well; in fact went there pretty much without contemplating documentation – as some Indian mystic, gentleman, who introduced himself on some random regional train in Karnataka or Kerala in an immaculate Oxford accent asking “Excuse me, do you have any reading matter?”, said: “Some things are better kept in the imagination”.

Nevertheless, I am here, now barfing like a teenager in the prime of her first kiss and tell moment.

There was magik and there was a connection – and there was a slight, short, split second in which the potency or potential or psychedelic pattern let itself be bodily felt, or a brief moment in which the bio-photonic energy of the Ayahuasca became unambiguously manifest – for just that little quarter of a second my soul surfed on a wave of otherworldliness. I guess some Eastern-philes might speak of an opening of the chown chakra – I know it best from the little companions of the field, from wearing a liberty cap, in the context of which, hectic as they are, I’d rather refer to it as having your brain ripped out by an omni-gulfing-enveloping forcefield which breathes like the entire universe through your skin and bones and flesh and composure. But it was but a split second. Just a slip, but also a promise of things to come. Some personal moments of clarity also presented themselves with uncompromising forcefulness to the both of us – our questions, the intentions that we, as you have to, traditionally, brought with us to get answered by the spirits, were not ignored; but this is not the time and place to discuss that. We have only just begun, miles to go.

The ritual extended into an exchange of psychedelic histories and we communed joint-ly to discover a shared fascination for social movements, change and rebellion against injustice, which we recognised in each others’ experiences and history as a global, all-around-the-world, problem.

In four days we will gather once more to continue the journey – this was a promise of “great” things to come. I guess another post to explain simply the unfolding of events in a sober, straightforward, algorithmic manner is in order. First it is time to sleep, but before that the final note:

Coming back home we added some red wine and a bit more of Eastern inspiration in a Euro-fashion and a surprisingly strong, confident, clear-sighted episode of about 45 minutes occured, triggered by the polytoxicomanic state, expressed in fluent, non-cocky yet determined and convincing manner – some emotional eloquence and reflection that a few glasses of wine could have never said: it was the Ayahuasca speaking, it was clear.

Happy Yule Fiesta!

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