April 3, 2023

Why I Did An Ayahuasca Ceremony

I did my first Ayahuasca ceremony over the weekend.  It’s something that I’ve been interested in trying for years, and I always said, ”I’ll do it when the time is right,” or when I have the right opportunity.  I had the right opportunity this weekend, so I tried it.  Here’s how it went.

It was at a nature reserve outside the capital of Colima in Mexico.  There is a lake there and some places to hike and camp.  There are also caves there, which my friends and I explored on a previous trip.  But this time, I was not there to hike.  I was there for the Ayahuasca ceremony.

We arrived a few hours before the ceremony started.  My girlfriend and I brought our dogs.  There was a big grass field, so we let the dogs run around on the field.  They told me the ceremony started at 10:00 p.m., which is when I usually go to bed.  Earlier that day, I almost decided not to do the ceremony because it started so late.  I even had the organizers return my money due to the late start time.

The leader who organized the ceremony returned my money, no questions asked – which went a long way towards earning my trust.  There were no games, no delays, and no bullshit.  I said the ceremony was too late for me, and they returned my money immediately, no problem.  I liked that.  It made me trust them – which is part of the reason I later changed my mind.  I decided that even though the ceremony started late, it was only one time.  I could stay up past my bedtime for one night.

It was a special occasion.  And I had a specific reason for doing Ayahuasca.  To me, this was important.  It was essential to go into the ceremony with a specific intention – a specific reason for being there.  I didn’t want to do it without a good reason.  Ayahuasca is ultimately about healing; it’s a healing journey.  So if I was going to do it, I wanted to make sure that I went into it to heal some part of me that was in pain.  I knew exactly what to ask for.

My specific reason for being there was pain in my neck and back.  I have chronic muscle tension in my neck and back, and it affects me every day.  I have had it for several years now—at least five years.  I have seen several doctors and specialists who have performed various tests on my neck and back.  All of the tests came back negative.  There is nothing wrong with my spine.  The bones and all of the disks are healthy.  The pain is muscular.  For me, stress causes muscle tension, and tension causes pain.  I tend to be stressed out, anxious, and angry.  For some people, this causes high blood pressure or ulcers.  For me, it manifests as back pain.

I have done meditation, massage therapy, foam rolling, heat therapy, cold therapy, electrotherapy, stretching, yoga, various exercises, and pretty much every other type of treatment you can think of.  I’m still stressed and anxious, and my back still hurts.  So I decided to try Ayahuasca.  Since nothing else was working, I figured I had nothing to lose.

The Beginning of the Ceremony

The room for the ceremony was a large shed, like a barn.  It was big enough to fit about 30 or 40 people comfortably.  Each person had a straw mat and whatever blankets or pillows they brought.  Each person prepared their bed.  Then we waited.

They told me to arrive at 9 p.m., which I did.  However, it was about 2 hours before the ceremony started.  We were waiting for everyone to get there.  I was bored.  I walked around and stretched.  I laid down and tried to rest because I knew I would be in for a long night, even though I didn’t know what to expect.  I was exhausted and wondered if I had made a bad decision by committing to this.  But I was committed.  I had no idea what would happen, but I knew why I was there and why I committed to it.  Around 11 p.m., the ceremony finally started.

Everyone in the shed stood in a circle, and the leaders led the group in some prayers and rituals.  I participated with an open mind even though religious ceremonies sometimes feel silly to me.  I always have an open mind and try to be respectful.  After the opening ceremonies, the leaders came around and began pouring us Ayahuasca one by one.  They asked everyone a few questions:  If they have any health problems?  If they’ve ever tried Ayahuasca before?  If they’re on any drugs or medications?  The questions were designed to make sure they got the dosing right.  Too little, and you might not have much of a trip.  Too much, and you could go straight to hell.

I was towards the end of the line, and I was excited when the leader got to me.  He was a friendly, heavyset guy with dreads.  He asked me questions and poured two small shots of Ayahuasca into my cup.  I asked whether I should sip it or take it all at once, and he told me to take it all at once.  So I took it down like a shot of alcohol.

It tasted bitter and earthy – like a mixture of grass, herbs, and roots.  It didn’t taste particularly good or terrible, but it made my stomach feel warm.  I had fasted beforehand (like they told me to), and my stomach was empty.  I could feel the brew moving around in my stomach and thought it would act quickly.  I did not want to throw up, even though I heard it’s common to throw up during Ayahuasca ceremonies.  The proctors made sure everyone had their own bowl specifically for them to vomit in.

The guy next to me had his vomit bowl on my side, which made me nervous.  I would have preferred that he move his puke bowl to the other side, as I did not want to get puked on.  However, someone else was on his other side, so there was no space.  I moved away to keep as much distance between him and me as possible because I didn’t want to get thrown up on.  There was a girl on my other side, and I made sure to leave her an appropriate amount of space as well.  I wanted myself and the people around me to be comfortable.

Then I laid there in the bed that I made and waited for the Ayahuasca to take hold.  It didn’t take long.  Within 30 minutes, I started to feel different.  The Ayahuasca was moving around in my stomach, and I hoped it didn’t make me sick.  I started thinking about the people I love.  That was my first reaction.

The first person I thought of was my girlfriend.  I realized that my most powerful love is my love for her – a powerful and beautiful realization.  It made me cry.  I cried when I realized how much I loved her.  She and I are together every day, almost all the time.  And I missed her.  She wasn’t at the ceremony with me.  Nor were our other friends who came to La Maria with us.  I was the only one who decided to do the Ayahuasca ceremony.  I wished I was with her and our two little dogs, Elvis and Maya.  That was my first realization while under the influence of Ayahuasca; I realized how much I love my girlfriend and that my most powerful love is my love for her.  This was good.  The ayahuasca trip was off to a good start.

But then things started to go sideways.  Nothing was wrong with me, but my neighbors weren’t doing well.  I heard people crying, coughing, burping, choking, vomiting, and yelling.  Everyone was out of their minds.  I began to think that maybe Ayahuasca was not something good after all.  This was some version of hell, complete with fire, smoke, and wails of agony.

I wanted to leave, not because I felt bad, but because my neighbors did.  It was impossible to enjoy myself in that environment.  I was genuinely disgusted by the noises and bodily functions around me.  I thought about leaving, even though we weren’t supposed to leave until the end of the ceremony.  A woman was crying, coughing, hacking, and gagging for an extended time.  Her sadness and suffering were affecting me.  I wanted to get out of there.  Seeing other people suffer like that was sending me on a bad trip.

That’s when the man next to me leaned over to the bowl, about two feet away from my head, and unleashed some of the most violent pukes I’ve ever seen.  I immediately jumped up and put on my shoes to leave.  I moved my stuff as far away from the guy as possible to avoid the puke, but I couldn’t go too far because there was a girl on my other side, and I was already close to her.  I wanted to ensure she had a comfortable amount of space, but I also did not want to get puked on.  She seemed to understand.  I was very uncomfortable.  I wanted to be with my girlfriend.  I decided to leave.

I walked outside the barn, past the campfire, and across the grass field to the cabanas where my girlfriend and other friends stayed.  I had almost reached the cabanas when I heard the voice of Constantino, the leader, ask me where I was going.  I told him I wanted to be with my girlfriend.  He told me she would not understand what I was experiencing because she was not on the same journey.  She had not taken Ayahuasca and, therefore, could not relate to what I felt at that moment.  He was not pushy at all in trying to get me to stay.  Not domineering or forceful.  Just inquisitive about what I was experiencing and why I wanted to leave.  I told him a woman was crying, and the man next to vomited violently several times.  I told him that the other people were suffering, and it caused me pain.  He told me that it was part of the process and that he was responsible for everyone there.  The thing is, he meant it.

Constantino

Before I met Constantino, I was weary that he might be some creepy or weird guy going around giving people Ayahuasca.  If I was going to try Ayahuasca, I had to be sure that the people I was doing it with were the right kind of people doing this for the right reasons.  No creeps.  That’s one reason it made me feel good that they returned my money right away earlier in the day when I said the ceremony started too late for me.

When we arrived, Constantino was one of the first people we saw.  He wore all white, which he had suggested everyone do, though it wasn’t mandatory.  He was clean-cut, clear-eyed, pleasant, and calm.  He was not anxious about anything.  He was not rushed, despite having a thousand things to think about.  He was organizing an event for 30-40 people.  If you’ve ever tried to organize an event, you know that’s a lot to think about.  But he wasn’t stressed at all.  He showed me the space, the barn where the ceremony would occur.  He asked me if I had any questions.  I asked him how many people were going to be there.  That’s when he told me they usually have 30-40.  That’s more than I was expecting.  That was the first time I realized I would be in a group of people that big.  But I had already committed and got a good feeling from Constantino.  So I told him I was in.  He told me to get my stuff and reserve a mat in the barn.  So I did.  I was excited and nervous.  But mostly excited.  That was the first time I met Constantino.  He remembered my name.  Edward.  He was there with his wife and his two little kids.  My girlfriend told me afterward that Constantino is an architect.  Architect by day, Ayahuasca shaman by night.  I was starting to realize that Constantino was an intelligent man.

This is why I was not nervous when he approached me and asked me where I was going.  It’s also why he was able to talk me into returning fairly easily.  I trusted him, and I liked him.  And he was right when he said my girlfriend wouldn’t know how I was feeling.  There’s no way she could.  She hadn’t taken Ayahuasca.  She wasn’t on the same trip as me.  The only people on the same trip as me were the other people inside the barn – the ones puking, crying, screaming, and burping in all their pain and suffering.  Those were my family right now.  And I had to be present with them in all of their misery.  This was going to be difficult.  It was already past my bedtime.  As difficult as it was, I knew that Constantino was right.  I had to be in there with them right now.  This is where I was called to be and what I was meant to experience.  He was right.  So we walked back together.  He told me that his Dad used to have long hair like mine, and it used to blow in the wind when he rode around on his motorcycle.  I thought that was awesome.

When we returned, one of the other leaders asked me where I went.  She was a grandmother.  Her grandson was with us during the opening ceremony.  He participated in the opening prayers.  I felt strange about having a kid present for this, but he left before the Ayahuasca came out.  He just participated in the prayers.  This was another good thing.  They were responsible for not having the kids around after the Ayahuasca came out.  There were no kids in the room taking Ayahuasca.  That would have freaked me out.  But that wasn’t the case.

However, the grandma was on Ayahuasca like the rest of us.  She was one of the leaders.  She was the OG of this shit.  She looked high to the bejeezus when she asked where I went, but somehow also perfectly clear-headed.  I told her I went to see my girlfriend, and she looked concerned, but I told her I could wait, and then she was calm and happy.  She could tell I decided to stay and was glad I did.  That made me feel better.

Suffering, Healing, and Revelations

I had to be present to other people’s suffering.  That was the element of this trip that I was not expecting.  I had heard that people burp and vomit and sometimes have diarrhea on Ayahuasca.  They told everyone to bring toilet paper.  They also made sure that everyone had a bowl to puke in.  So I guess I should have seen some of this coming.  But I was not ready for the suffering I was about to witness.  People were screaming, crying, in agony.  Not physical agony.  Emotional and spiritual agony.  They were being present to the deepest and most painful feelings they have in order to heal themselves.

And there’s also the physical part.  Vomiting is never pleasant.  I didn’t want to vomit.  I was preoccupied about it.  I felt like vomiting would send me on a very bad trip, and I didn’t want that.  But luckily, I didn’t feel that sick to my stomach.  I was hungry, though.  I was hungry as hell.  They told us to bring some fruit, and I brought an apple.  So I ate the apple.  I also brought some peanuts but didn’t eat them because I wasn’t sure if that was allowed.  I guess I could have asked.  But I felt okay after the apple.

It’s not like everyone was screaming and crying the entire time.  But a lot of times, they were.  I didn’t feel that bad, but the other people around me were suffering – and it hurt me to be present to their suffering.  It hurt me so much that I cried several times.  I’ve never cried so much, being around other people suffering like that.  I cried all night.  I couldn’t sleep.

I got up and went outside to the campfire several times.  The organizers had set up a campfire outside the barn and a circle of chairs around the campfire.  We were allowed to talk out there.  Talking made me feel better.  Talking with other people was what saved me.  We weren’t supposed to talk inside, but you could talk outside at the campfire, so I spent a lot of time out there.

I spent as much time as I could looking at the moon.  It had a couple of stars around it.  There weren’t too many stars in the sky, but the moon was clear and vivid, and there were rings of clouds around it like a portal.  It was really cool.  I enjoyed looking at the moon, but it was super high up, and I had to tilt my head up to look at it.  It made my next sore after a bit, so I had to stop.  But I enjoyed talking to the people, even though it was hard to understand everyone.  Everyone was super high, myself included, and not all conversations made sense.  I had to ask people a few times to repeat themselves because I couldn’t hear or understand what they said.  But I was still able to make plenty of conversation.  All of the discussion was in Spanish.

People asked me a lot of questions – mostly about myself.  And I learned about myself because of that.  I’m grateful that they asked me those questions during the Ayahuasca trip because I had to think about them while I was in that state of mind.  They asked me what I did for a living.  I told them over and over.  I am a writer.  It’s funny because before this Ayahuasca trip, I had been asking myself, ”What do I actually do for a living?  What should I do?  What is my vocation?  I know what I like doing.  But what’s my actual vocation?”  And by answering so many times, ”escritor,” I realized that was the answer.  I am a writer.

I also realized that it wasn’t a lie.  I am a writer by any definition you choose.  Including, ”whether or not you make money at it.”  The answer is yes.  I do make money writing.  I am a professional writer if that’s how you want to define it.  I have the tax forms to prove it.  I get paid to write, and that’s what pays all my bills right now.  So if that’s how you want to define a professional writer, I am a professional.  Writing is my only income stream, and it pays all of my bills.  I don’t make enough to live in my hometown – I am not rich – but I make enough to live here in Mexico.

But that’s not how I define a writer.  I don’t define it by money.  Will I be a writer when I can afford to buy a house?  When I can afford to have kids?  When I can afford to send them to college?  At what point in this process do I actually become a writer, for real?  And the answer is that I had already become one primarily by the pure number of hours that I have spent reading and writing in my life.  Going back to when I started reading as a kid, I have spent tens of thousands of hours reading and writing.  That’s not an exaggeration.  I also worked for eight years as a lawyer at elite law firms, learning to produce top-quality research and writing.  I’m highly trained.  I have all the experience necessary to be very good at writing, and that’s why I got hired to do the job that I do.  But when people ask me what I do, I just say ”escritor.”  So there you have it.  It’s settled.  I’m an escritor.

I was sitting out by the fire, and a girl was crying.  At some point, she stopped crying and asked me if she could ask me a question.  I said sure.  She asked me a question about being an artist.  She said it through her blanket and a face full of tears, so it was hard for me to understand her.  So I asked her in Spanish, ”You want to be an artist?”  She said yes.  First, I was surprised and honored that she asked me about being an artist.  To me, this meant that she saw me as a successful artist.  I felt exposed.  I hoped I hadn’t oversold myself.  But all I had said was ”escritor.”  I felt a great responsibility to give a good answer about what it meant to be an artist – and I was struggling.

I said, well, it’s not about money.  And it’s not about success.  It’s about doing things you love and things you enjoy.  Then one of the leaders, the friendly guy with dreads, said, ”The passion.”  I said, ”Yes!  The passion.”  He was right.  Doing things you’re passionate about.  He saved me.  He got the right answer.  It’s about doing things you’re passionate about.  She thanked me even though I couldn’t take credit for getting the right answer.  It was the guy with dreads.  But he was right.  It’s about doing things you’re passionate about.  Then I moved to a different seat to escape the smoke from the fire and looked back up at the moon.

I went back inside, and this was when things got difficult.  I laid down and tried to sleep because I was tired after talking.  Focusing on the conversations required a lot of mental energy, and I was exhausted.  So I went to my bed and tried to go to sleep.  I could not sleep.  Thankfully, the man beside me, who had vomited violently earlier, was asleep.  He was in a much better place now.  But things were not going so well for someone else.

There was a different guy on the other side of the barn.  He was screaming and crying and vomiting and calling out for his Dad.  He was suffering.  This man’s entire spirit was crying out.  I cried with him.  I must have cried for 30 minutes.  I was too tired to go back outside, and there was no way I could sleep with this poor man suffering like that.  So I just laid there in my bed and cried.  It was the only thing I could do.  I cried, and I prayed to God to help him.  To bring this man some peace in his life.  The pain was too much.  Please make it stop.  He is suffering – not imagined suffering – real suffering.

His suffering made me present to how minor the problems in my life are and how much I have to be grateful for.  And I also realized that I could do nothing to help this man.  The reasons he suffered had nothing to do with me, and I could do nothing to fix them.  All I could do was be present to his suffering and cry with him.  That was the medicine I needed – to be present with people who are really suffering inside and cry for them.  I couldn’t stop crying, and I couldn’t sleep either.  I think the biggest thing I took away from this trip was a greater sense of empathy.

Before the ceremony, looking around the room, I never would have thought that was what I would see.  Everyone around me looked like ordinary people.  I never would have guessed that anyone was suffering like that.  It wasn’t a room full of people who looked like bums, derelicts, or weirdos.  Everyone in there was socially well-adjusted.  I never would have guessed that they carried that kind of pain around with them, and it’s really just a testament to their strength and courage.

In Mexico, people do backbreaking work in the brutal sun.  People start working when they are kids and work their entire lives.  Mexican boxers are known for being notoriously tough, even by boxing’s standards.  So it’s not normal to see a guy crying like this.  He’s probably never let on that he’s been in that much pain.  That pain is what this experience is meant to heal.  Being present to it made me more of an empath.  It made me more empathetic.  Seeing this guy in such pain hurt me so much that I just cried with him.  And he cried for a long time.  When he started crying out for his Dad, I couldn’t take it anymore.  I drank some water, got up, and went outside to the campfire again.

At some point, while I was sitting outside, Constantino asked me if I did any sports.  I said yes, I surf and skateboard.  At that moment, I realized how ridiculous it is to define myself as a surfer or a skateboarder because these are things I’ve only taken up recently – surfing, about 2 ½ years, and skateboarding less than one year ago.  Even though these are things I love and do every day, I’ve only been doing them for a minute.  Right now, my long-term plan is to keep skating and surfing every day for as long as I can – hopefully until I’m in my 70s or 80s.  Maybe longer.  But who knows?  That plan can change.  I might want to stop tomorrow.  If that happens, I’ll do something else.  But right now, there’s nothing I’d rather do.  So that’s what I’m doing.  And that’s what I’ll keep doing until there’s something else I’d rather do.  But being a surfer or a skater isn’t what defines me.  Even being a writer isn’t what defines me, and I’ve spent tens of thousands of hours developing that skill.  What if someday I couldn’t surf anymore?  Or couldn’t skate anymore?  Or couldn’t write anymore?  I would still be alive.  And I would no longer be defined by any of those things.  So those things can’t be what defines me.  What defines me is who I love and how I treat them – how I interact with others – my relationships.  As long as I am alive, I will love people, and how I treat them and interact with them is what matters.

I clarified myself and said I did other sports my whole life but only recently learned to surf and skate.  Constantino said those are the best sports.  I said yes, with surfing, you feel the ocean’s strength and energy.  He said yes, he used to live by the ocean and told me another story.  I speak Spanish, but I was having a hard time understanding clearly.  It was a combination of being tired, hungry, high to the bejeezus, and speaking my second language.  But I still enjoyed talking with Constantino even though I couldn’t understand everything.  He was telling stories about riding motorcycles.  I liked Constantino.

Later, another one of the leaders, named Kali, came over and checked on me.  She asked me how I felt.  She asked me if I was connecting.  I said yes, but other people were suffering, which hurt me a lot.  She assured me it’s part of the process and to focus on my own journey.  That was helpful.  Kali was a sweet lady.  She lent me a candle at the beginning of the ceremony because I had forgotten mine.  She was also the person who checked me in.  When she checked me in, she asked if my name was Italian.  I said yes.

Later on, she came over and started talking to me in Italian.  I felt like an idiot when I told her I didn’t speak Italian.  I only have an Italian last name.  That made me realize that I need to learn Italian at some point.  Right now, I am focusing on perfecting my Spanish.  But I have to learn at least some Italian in my life.  I’ve often wondered what language I might want to learn after Spanish, and now I have the answer.  Italian.

The leaders were doing a good job of checking in on everyone, taking care of everyone, and helping them to the bathroom if they needed to go.  As chaotic as it sounds, everyone was cared for – even the poor guy crying for his Dad.

When I got back inside, the poor man was still crying.  It was a long time.  This poor guy had been suffering.  I prayed for him again.  I prayed to God to relieve him from his pain because it was too much.  God had mercy on him at some point, and he fell asleep.  I would imagine he has never slept so well after getting that pain out.  I’m not sure if I ever fell asleep.  I tossed and turned the whole night.  I went to the bathroom to pee a couple of times.  The bathroom was gross.  The whole floor was wet.  I’m not sure if it was pee or what it was.  I left as quickly as possible.  I drank some water to stay hydrated, but not so much that I had to keep peeing.  I didn’t want to have to keep using that bathroom.

I was hungry and thought about eating the peanuts, but I didn’t.  I still wasn’t sure if it was permitted.  Maybe I should have asked.  But I continued fasting.  At one point, while I was outside, the leader with the dreads asked me if I wanted to take some more Ayahuasca.  He could tell by the fact that I was up talking and not getting violently sick that I was okay to have more.  Again, as chaotic as it sounds, the leaders were experienced, well aware and in control of everything happening.  Constantino said he was responsible for everyone there, and he meant it.  Everyone was cared for the entire time they were there.  Make no doubt about it.  For many of the people, it was not their first time.  They had come here before and came back again because of what it did for them.  The leaders did a great job of caring for everyone there, myself included.  I was glad that Constantino had asked me to come back when I tried to leave earlier.  I would not have gotten nearly all of the benefits of the experience if I had left.

There was music playing the whole time.  It was calming music.  And it was helpful to drown out some of what was happening around me.  At one point, someone ripped an absolute earthquake of a fart.  It was earth-shattering.  I couldn’t stop laughing.  It brought some much-needed comic relief.  Some people couldn’t stop burping.  Some people were making funny sounds.  There were parts of the experience that were very funny, despite how heavy and powerful it was.  Overall, I regard it as a positive experience for many reasons.

I got a greater sense of empathy, which I think was the biggest takeaway.  Being present to other people’s suffering turned down the volume on my problems.  It gave me greater respect for what other people may be going through and not showing it.

It reminded me that I have all the things that are important to me – my health and my family and a great support network of friends who are also my family.

It made me realize that whatever obstacles I face are just part of the learning process, and the learning process will continue as long as I am alive.

The Next Day

I don’t think I slept at all the entire night.  I tried several times.  I was exhausted, but I couldn’t sleep.  There was always some noise or distraction that kept me awake.  It was a long night, but as difficult as it was, I don’t regard it as a bad experience.  I might have fallen asleep, even if only for a few minutes, because I opened my eyes at some point, and it was bright out.  Pretty much everyone was asleep except for a couple of people outside at the campfire.

I went out to the campfire and said hi to Usbaldo.  Usbaldo and I had talked at the campfire the night before.  He was like me and liked being outside at the fire, so we became friends.  He asked me how I was feeling and how my experience was.  I said it was intense.  That was the first word that came to mind.  It was also scary, sad, beautiful, enlightening, and difficult to describe.  It raised a lot of intense feelings for me – mainly empathy – which is why I regard it as a good experience even though it cost me a whole night of sleep.

Usbaldo asked me if I would do it again, and I said yes, but I needed time to recover first.  This is not something that you do every weekend.  Someone else at the fire chimed in, ”maybe in six months.”  That’s about right.  Six months.  A year.  Who knows?  I may do it again.

At one point in the night, the leader with dreads offered me more Ayahuasca.  We’d been out at the campfire talking, and our conversation made him believe that I was still lucid enough and in good enough shape to handle another dose of Ayahuasca.  But I declined it.  I didn’t think it was a good idea.  I thought another dose of Ayahuasca might send me straight to hell.  I had seen the people around me puking, crying, and suffering horribly, and I didn’t want to put myself in that state if I didn’t have to.  This was my first Ayahuasca trip.  I didn’t want it to be a terrible one.  So I respectfully declined the second shot of Ayahuasca.  I knew from previous experiences with alcohol that taking too much, especially on an empty stomach, can make you sick as hell.  I was still fasting and had nothing in my stomach, so I passed on the second shot of Ayahuasca.  I remember thinking that if I had food in my stomach, I would have felt more confident to take another shot.  But my stomach was empty, I was already completely exhausted, and I’d been watching people suffer for hours, so I didn’t think another shot was a good idea.

However, the next day I thought, ”What would have happened if I took the second shot?”  Maybe it would have sent me to hell.  Maybe not.  That curiosity made me want to go back for a second ceremony.  That is why I might do it again.  I am still curious to know what would have happened if I had taken that second shot.  I may have made a smart decision by turning it down.  It could have made the experience miserable.  Or not.  It could have enriched the experience.

As Usbaldo and I talked, a few more people joined us around the campfire.  A nice lady offered me some sugar cookies, which I gladly accepted.  I ate three or four sugar cookies and was feeling great.  Everyone was fine the following morning.  The guy who threw up next to me, he was fine.  The guy who made me cry because he was crying out for his Dad, he was fine too.  Everybody was fine the following day.  Not even hungover.  Everyone was tired, but nobody seemed to be suffering any long-term effects.  No horrible hangovers.  No terrible psychological damage.  The effect of the Ayahuasca had worn off, and everyone was back to feeling like their usual selves – just better.  And completely exhausted.

Our conversations at the campfire seemed to stir the other people inside, and everyone began to wake up and start moving around.  This was when the leaders brought us back into the barn for the closing ceremony.  The closing ceremony was much quicker than the opening ceremony.  We all stood in a circle, said a few brief prayers, and that was it.  By this point, everyone was wiped out but also happy.

I was relieved that it was over, but I also felt lighter.  Elevated.  I couldn’t wait to see my girlfriend and my dogs and finally go to bed.  After the closing ceremony, I packed my blankets, pillow, and backpack.  I walked back across the grass field to the cabanas where my girlfriend and the rest of our friends were staying.

I got to our cabana and knocked on the door.  My girlfriend answered, and I recounted what had happened the best I could.  I was completely exhausted but also eager to share everything that had happened.  I told her the whole story.  Everything I am telling you here, now.

She was amazed that I had spent an entire night without sleeping and that I was okay with it.  She knows I am very strict about my sleeping schedule and become very irritated when anything interferes with my sleep.  So the fact that I allowed this ceremony to keep me awake for the entire night and that I was okay with it was unheard of.  She had never seen this happen before.  At this stage of my life, I don’t stay out late for parties.  I don’t go on all-night drinking bouts.  I go to bed early to wake up early to train – every night, including Fridays and Saturdays.  I don’t take days off or allow anything to interfere with my sleep.  My girlfriend knows this better than anyone, so she was surprised I had gone through this experience and described it as positive.

She was so surprised that it made her interested in trying Ayahuasca.  Anything that could get me to miss an entire night of sleep – and still describe it as a good experience – must have some incredible properties.  And this is true.  Ayahuasca is a very powerful healing experience.  But you have to be ready for it.  It’s not something that you decide to do willy-nilly.  It’s not easy.  It’s difficult and scary.  But it’s worth it if you go into it for a specific purpose.

Before the event, I read about Ayahuasca in books.  What I learned from the books is to go into the Ayahuasca ceremony looking for something specific.  Do it for a specific reason.  When you take the Ayahuasca, ask it for help.  Ask it to heal some particular part of your life that is hurting.  It could be a relationship with a family member.  Maybe it’s stress, anxiety, depression, or all of those.  Ask for help with the things you need help with.

The day before the Ayahuasca ceremony, I wrote down all the most painful parts of my life.  The things that cause me the greatest pain.  I also wrote down what I hoped to gain from the Ayahuasca ceremony.  Getting clear about what I wanted gave me purpose and intention; having purpose and intent is essential to making the experience worth it.  Going into it without purpose or intention is wasteful.  I went into the experience looking for specific answers and got some good ones.  If I had not been looking for specific answers, the experience might not have been as helpful as it was.

After recounting my experience to my girlfriend, I tried to fall asleep but still had no luck.  Our cabana was right below a restaurant and a staircase, which meant that I could hear people going up and down the stairs all morning and that I could hear everything that was going on in the restaurant.  There was no rest for the weary.  I still couldn’t sleep due to all the noise.

Around 1 p.m., it was time to check out.  I did not have to drive on the way home.  This was important because it would not have been safe to do so.  I had not slept at all and was still too exhausted.  But one of our friends drove, so there was no problem.  We stopped for pizza on the way back and finally arrived home in the evening before sundown.

When we returned, I told my girlfriend about how Kali had talked to me in Italian and how I wanted to learn Italian now because I felt ridiculous for not knowing any.  She said that she sometimes practices Italian on her Duolingo.  She was already interested in learning Italian.  Perfect.  Someday we may spend time together in Italy practicing Italian.  That makes me happy.

It’s funny because that’s also how I got the idea to learn Spanish.  Growing up in San Diego, many people asked me whether I spoke Spanish.  The answer was always ”no,” and I always felt like an idiot.  Eventually, I decided that I was going to learn Spanish and stop feeling like an idiot.  It was a great idea.  Learning Spanish has probably been the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done.  I met my girlfriend thanks to my ability to speak Spanish.

It’s now two days after the Ayahuasca ceremony, and I am still tired from not sleeping.  But it was still worth it.  I am not in a hurry to return and do it again this weekend, but I am still glad I did it and may do it again in the future.  Although not soon.  I don’t think it’s necessary.  I will do it again when and if I feel like I am ready.  This is an approach I believe everyone should take.  Do it when and if you feel ready.  If you don’t feel ready, then don’t do it.  Also, have a specific reason for doing it.  Try to heal some specific part of your life that is in pain.  If you don’t want to do it or don’t know why you’re doing it, then don’t do it.  But if you want to do it, know why you are doing it, and have confidence in the people you are with, then it can be a very valuable experience.  It was for me.