Words are so limiting...
I didn't realize just how limiting until this weekend. I didn't realize how much I needed to say that couldn't be said with the English language. In much the same way, I feel very limited in my ability to communicate what this experience was like for me and will only attempt to convey that which may encourage those who feel that they are ready to seek their own healing.
I will describe the experience in the physical world as it unfolded for me, and know that it is just that. How it unfolded for me. It will be different from other stories you may have heard and it will be different from your own experience should you ever decide you want it. I will also attempt to describe my experience beyond the physical, as challenging at that will be.
Saturday afternoon, I went to pole rehearsal because we have our Halloween performance next weekend. I enjoyed it, and I had packed everything I would need for the Aya ceremony in my car so that I could head right there afterwards. When rehearsal was done, I checked my phone and saw that I had a message from one of the facilitators saying that they were running a bit behind schedule (Divine timing) and that they would be arriving for the ceremony closer to 8pm instead of 6pm. Annoyance crept up inside me, and I soothed it with the thought of taking my time driving and knowing that it was happening as it was meant to. Let go.
I listened to an audiobook as I drove, one that was detailing magical practices from a scientific perspective and bridging the two worlds with the overarching thesis of "magic is just that which science cannot yet explain". As I drove, I wondered what the experience would be like, but after my Kambo experience I wasn't expecting much. I arrived at the location for the ceremony just after dusk and was greeted by the owner of the land warmly and welcomed into the sacred space. Some tents were already set up and a fire was blazing. I was helped by one of the others to find a place for my tent and set it up and then took a seat near the fire to stave off the cold beginning to seep into the 500 layers I had bundled myself in. It was going to be a very cold night. I arrived around 7:30 and the facilitators and Shaman didn't show up until around 9 pm. Divine timing, indeed. Let go.
Once everyone had assembled, another fire was lit in a more open area with room around it to lay out sleeping bags, blankets, and emergency buckets. I had heard that puking was likely and was glad to have a bucket close at hand. Time began to become meaningless as I watched the others settle themselves and the Shaman began to prepare for the ceremony. I was seated to his right in the circle and watched intently as he opened a small purple suitcase and pulled out 3 beautifully embroidered cloths to place in front of him as his altar. On these, a multitude of different instruments (including metal and crystal singing bowls, a wooden flute and whistle, two rattles and a drum), bottles containing brownish green sludge, a rosewater misting bottle, his incense holder, tobacco and rolling papers, feathers, various crystals (especially a large rose quartz heart) and a small wooden cup. Throughout the whole setting up process I could feel my body becoming tense with anticipation, the bone-chilling cold from sitting on the ground and fear of the unknown. Let go.
The Shaman began to explain how the ceremony would progress. He would pour the Ayahuasca into the cup and bless it and then we were to approach one by one to receive her, set an intention while connecting with her, and then consume her. He cautioned that there may be darkness on our journey and that if we were ever unsure, that we should always ask if what was approaching us was from the light or for our highest and greatest good. If it was not, we were to disengage with it. The sacred space would allow us to travel safely and he would be there to guide us. After this explanation, he began to mix the plant medicine, pouring some brownish-green sludge into another bottle containing something that looked very similar in the dim light of the fire. Placing the mixture bottle in the crystal singing bowl, he began tapping the sides to sound it and then ran his mallet around the rim, asking it to sing. He did this three times and then lifted the bottle out and placed it in front of him. I thought the ceremony would start then, but was disappointed when he began to look around for filters for rolling tobacco. I couldn't see the point and was impatient to get the process started, to get my experience going. Let go.
He found the filters and deftly rolled some tobacco up in raw brown rolling papers so quickly that it was like a magic trick in itself. He poured incense into his incense holder which looked almost like a pot shaped from clay and lit the incense and his tobacco. He placed the small wooden up into the metal singing bowl in front of him and poured the first dose of Ayahuasca, then lifted it to his mouth and exhaled smoke over it, blessing it. Then I understood the necessity of the tobacco. He lifted the cup to his mouth and shot the liquid back, did a little shake and placed the cup back in the bowl, looking to his left (clockwise) and calling forward the first recipient. I would be last to receive. Impatient. Let go.
When it was finally my turn to receive the Aya, I unzipped my sleeping bag, removed my mittens and got up from the warmth I had accumulated there to go and kneel in front of the Shaman. He poured my dose, blessed it, and handed me the little cup. I peered into it as I brought it close to me, then pressed it against my chest as I set my intention: let go of the fear; choose love. When I felt I had connected with her as much as I could, I lifted the cup to my lips, braced myself and shot her back. She tasted surprisingly pleasant; earthy and textured and somehow warming. I thanked the Shaman, handed him the cup and returned to my place. Then the waiting began.
It's so cold and uncomfortable on the ground. Let go.
What am I doing here? Let go.
This was so much money for me to just drop without really thinking about it. Let go.
What if nothing happens for me? Let go.
What if I don't get any of the answers I'm looking for? Let go.
How much longer until I start to feel it? Let go.
What if I encounter some dark evil spirit that attacks me? Let go.
What if I find what I'm looking for and it's not what I wanted or expected? Let go.
I saw others begin to lie down after some time had passed and figured I'd do the same while I waited for the medicine to kick in. I closed my eyes and started to feel some twinges of something that I couldn't describe, but still felt pretty firmly rooted in reality. I must have dozed off for a bit, but was roused by the sound of others moving about. I sat up and saw that some were receiving a second dose from the Shaman. Part of me wanted to play it safe and stick with one, but I wanted the full experience (and in true Jackie fashion, I needed to experience the extreme...haha). I approached the Shaman once more and knelt in front of him, my back to the flames. He poured more from the recycled glass bottle into the little wooden cup, and offered it to me a second time. I held it close again and re-affirmed my intention. Let go of fear; choose love. The second shot went down just as easy as the first had for me. I actually enjoyed the earthy flavour and texture. I made my way back to my sleeping bag again, smiling blue bucket still positioned at the ready as the incense the Shaman was burning reminded me of my Kambo purge. I kept wanting something to happen already. I could see it starting to take effect with some of the others and the Shaman seemed to be able to easily transition between the two states of being. I kept reminding myself to let go, even though I didn't feel like I fully understood what that even meant.
And then I understood.
I let go with my entire being and was rewarded with the most dazzling display of sound in visual form. It was more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. I would play in its waves, allowing my entire being to be immersed in the flow of its infinite symphony and the come up for air, blinking my eyes open and realizing that my body had slumped to the side while I had been under. It was at these breathing times, coming out of the "sound water" that I saw pixels. I saw the matrix in all of its glory. I wanted to ask if others saw the same, but didn't know how to ask. Words had no meaning. Words were useless. There was only sound.
I was shy at first and afraid to "speak", but speaking was more like singing. I made a few small sounds at the beginning, muffled into the scarf around my neck. As the Shaman began chanting though, I recognized it as a beat, a foundation on which to build, create and play! I built castles of sound. I built entire galaxies of sound. I didn't try to control any of the sound escaping me and it varied in pitch, texture, intensity, tonality, volume and rhythm. It made me so joyful to hear myself like that. I saw the beauty in my sound and bowed down to it. It was light and carefree as a child, while also heavy with pain and the sadness of fear and loss and disconnection. It was haunting and gleeful, adventurous and curious, unsure and strong. The Shaman was a playmate in the soundspace and his energy danced and laughed and cried with mine.
I felt what it was like to be whole. I felt true love. I felt the oneness, the knowing, the Consciousness. Mother Ayahuasca showed me, with the Shaman's help. I was limitless in my expression and in my understanding of communication. The crystal bowl shed light on the darkness and eased it out of me so gently, so caring. So loving. I saw the pixels in the fire. Saw the gameboard and the players, though I still didn't realize the magnitude of the game at that point. I wish I could have written down my experience as it was happening. I was seeing the universe as sound and that sound was interconnecting patterns that shifted into and out of each other with different levels and spaces and dimensions. I understood how everyone could be individual and be connected at the same time. It was perfect harmony. There were no words, only sounds. Sounds conveying more meaning and emotion than words ever could.
I wanted to find magic. I was not expecting it to be anything like this. It became less intense over time, so I spent less time beneath the waves and more time listening above the surface. My body would start to periodically make itself known to me with a sense of cold or having to use the washroom, but these feelings/sensations would only last for a second until I could fully let go again. I had conversations with the fire and I spoke in the language of others around the circle. None of those languages contained words. I began playing with the movements of my hands, letting them dance as they pleased and they flowed effortlessly like the flames. The man beside me rolled some tobacco for me and, curious, I accepted it and inhaled as he lit it for me. I enjoyed the smokey flavour that lingered and briefly felt the Aya state heighten again. Ah. Now I better understood it's purpose. I wanted to remain in this state for as long as I could. It was 5:30 am before I wanted to surrender to sleep.
Mother Aya helped me find my voice while the others in attendance held the space for me to search, just as I held the space for them.
I thought that this was the pinnacle of being. That knowing sound in this way and being one with it was all that I needed, all that I had been searching for. I still had questions, but they seemed less important now that I had this knowledge, now that I had this connection to Source. I felt that I finally understood why I have been set on this path, and why I have felt that I can heal through sound, and why I have felt so alone until this point. What I didn't know was what I would learn the following day from the Toad, Bufo - The Initiator.
Stay tuned.
Jackie O
P.S. 
Image from https://www.locogringo.com/ayahuasca-ritual-trip-discover/
