This is part two of my ayahuasca experience posts, where I get personal about it. Before I share my experience, I want to clarify that everyone has their own personal experience with ayahuasca, and every experience can be different.
There is also no type of guest that is more prepared than the other. From guests who never took any mind altering substances (including marijuana or alcohol), to folks who were more experienced in those substances, past experiences with other mind-altering substances won't actually matter. What is important is your ability to surrender control, and to trust your shaman and a force other than yourself. Experience with other mind altering substances can help, but not necessarily and it's not always a guarantee of handling ayahuasca any better.
I’m a prime example of that.
Here's how my six ayahuasca trips went:
First ayahuasca trip:
It was underwhelming, actually. That was because because at Mai Niti, the first ayahuasca ceremony for all is only half a normal serving, so that Lucila can gauge how you react to ayahuasca to better prescribe your ensuing treatment.
In fact, the whole experience felt like a dreamy meditation. I couldn’t tell if what I was experiencing in my head were thoughts or dreams. I would go on thought spirals, go really deep on a thought and then find myself thinking, why am I thinking about these things? And I would switch thoughts, often. I had immersive dreams were immersive, but I can’t remember any of them now.
I also was more keenly aware of my body sensations, I could feel the aches and weight of my limbs more. At some point of the night when I tried to touch myself to bring me to the present and away from my thoughts, I felt like my fingers were imbued with a static sensation.
Second ayahuasca trip:
Unlike that first trip, the second trip was the most intense experience of my life— I was absolutely incapacitated to the point where I had to consciously try to breathe, with incredible effort.
I felt incredible pain, both physical and mental. I had a headache that wouldn’t quit, and an unbearable feeling of how painful it was to exist at that moment. Vomiting felt more natural than breathing, and a lot more constant and stable than my breathing too. It was the worst I ever felt, and I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. I cursed myself for choosing to do this, that I made decision to do this willingly.
I kept trying to hold on to reality, because I was afraid what the alternative would mean. I tried to remember race, language and cultures were real--I know they are social constructs but they’re social constructs with real consequences. I remember trying to deconstruct the reality that I was someone with Asian diaspora experiences and American privilege in the service of these Peruvian villagers. I kept turning these constructs of reality in mind, examining them from all angles, trying to figure out which one was true, realizing what was inadequate about them, and the costs and trade off of them.
I cried out throughout the night, of several pains and complaints. One was that I couldn’t see, but it was because I was seeing too much of everything. With my eyes open in the dark, my eyes closed, so many different things I was seeing. Outlines of light, double vision, and I couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t.
I was also sweating profusely. My hair was wild, in my face, and I remember constantly swatting it away. I kept repeating the refrains, “I’m so hot. I’m so tired. My head hurts. Everything hurts. Help me. I can’t do this anymore. This is so hard. WHAT THE FUCK. It’s so hard. I can’t breathe.”
Lucila kept telling me to calm down and to breathe, but that seemed like an impossible task. I thought it was the longest night of my life. I don’t know when it would end.
Lucila later said that as I struggled to breathe last night, my body shook with vibrations. She described it as if there was a candle hot air blowing on me, and honestly, that confirms just how fucking hot I felt that night. Every breath of air was a fresh cool air to calm me down, when I could take in a breath.
I only remember bits and pieces from the night, flashes of memories. I remember being so tired I literally was leaning my forehead in my vomit tub. I held my vomit tub like a security blanket, like an anchor to reality because at least the vomiting reminded me of this physical plane.
Everyone was so kind. Each participant is supposed to focus on their own experience, and trust that the shamans and staff will take care of each person. Most people who are interested in experiences like ayahuasca are actively working to heal themselves, but that also means, they hold great empathy and kindness for others also going through their own paths. I had really generous, kind neighbors who took care of me in their own way throughout the night
My neighbors gave me encouraging phrases ("You can do it, you’re stronger than this"), a comforting hand in the back, and even covered me with my own blanket. Another reached over from two beds distance to give me his water and to remind me of my strength. A volunteer, or as I remember her, an angel, held my hand, telling me to breathe and relax, fetching me water and things, and basically put up with my incapacitated ass. Lucila came over several times to calm me and feed me mangos and limes rimmed with salt (although I could barely bite into any of them, and when I did I threw it right back up).
My ayahuasca experience is not the ayahuasca experience. In the same session where I was crying, vomiting, sweating, and in the most worst pain of my life and scared for my life, a neighbor was just laying calmly with soft sighs. In the session where I thoughts I couldn’t understand flashed before me, another neighbor entered the magical world of ayahuasca and feeling elated by all it revealed to him.
It all depends what you came here for, how far you came, and what the spirits think you need. I thought I had worked through a lot of my own issues, but the pain I endured that night was a reminder of all the things I still carry with me.
At my consultation with Lucila, she explained my experience was colored by the fact that I had a lot of fear. I was seized by fear the entire ceremony. I was afraid of letting go, of surrounding control to anything other myself, and I was afraid of everything I had to receive.
Lucila counseled me that fear is something we have to control. The heat I felt was a sign the healing and cleaning was working. There was nothing to fear, because nothing is bad going to happen to me, that they (her and the spirits they) were always looking out for me.
She asked if I had any questions, and I was honestly still stupefied and trying to make sense of everything. That night was so intense, it took all of me to just to survive it-- I don’t understand it, I don’t know how to process it, I couldn’t receive anything last night because I was so overwhelmed just by existing. She said it’s okay not to get anything out off it, but the vomit and letting go would help cleanse me.
A surprising revelation from the experience was that my throat and stomach didn’t hurt from all the vomiting. I had a headache the following day, but it could have been from the exhaustion from not sleeping much the night before.
Third ayahuasca trip:
After the second trip, I was nervous about my next ceremony, while knowing having fear and anxiety would not make it any better. I tried to focus and accept that any pain was healing and necessary, to not be afraid, to be ready and willing to accept anything that happened to me. It helped knowing the third ceremony would be a half dose.
The third ceremony was definitely not as potent as the second, but more painful than the first ceremony with the same half dose. The night passed with lots of hazy visuals and stomach cramps.
I could feel my ego leaving center stage and an opening to feelings though, as I could reflect on recent argument with friends and calmly accept my fault in the fight, and prioritize our relationship over my ego. I felt pretty relieved and calm throughout the night.
In my ensuing consultation session, Lucia confirmed I was very confidence, and was working on my space, and I was very calm and had good vibrations.
With some time and space to process the second ceremony, I asked what on earth was I purging the first time. Lucila replies it was just the stress and anxiety over family, friends and work and not trusting the process.
She put me on a plan that included other plant medicines and had me skip one ayahuasca ceremony:
Liana - liana literally means vine in Spanish. In this case though, it refers to a vine that when cut into, expels a a clear liquid that helps calm and slow down thinking, great for over thinkers.
Marusa - a plant with feminine energy, to help open my heart, to reconnect me to light and love and the universe, and help provide emotional healing. It tasted like a mild herbal time.
San Pedro- this plant was not meant to specifically treat me, but is a brewed drink taken collectively like ayahuasca. Some guests may be told to refrain from partaking. However, it is an incredible drink that uplifts and intensifies all sensory experiences and feelings. Done in the right settings and right company, it can feel like a pleasant euphoric high that lasts all day.
Fourth ayahuasca trip:
I was still nervous and traumatized from my second ayahuasca ceremony. I tried to meditate and remind myself that nothing bad could happen, that ayahuasca was trying to tell and teach me things, that I would have to be open and receptive to it all, that the pain was temporarily, that Lucila and her father would be there to protect all of us, and that to be open and unafraid of anything that was to happen.
It hit me fast. The experience was still so unbearably painful, both in the head and in my stomach. It was less than the first time, but it was debilitating and distracting. It felt like an endless stream of thoughts and sights entering my head before I could even process them, and jumping from one thought to another. It was like the in-between of my last two ceremonies.
There was no purging, but intense stomach cramps and pains that would take a hold of my entire body, seize it in tension, until the pain pass and my body slumped from the release of pain. I found myself on the floor, half off the mattress, and pressing myself against the hardwood floor to anchor myself to reality.
I was in and out of consciousness. My head hurt so much, I could feel my eyebrows furrowed from pain and I literally had to hold my forehead and head at several points of the night to try to sooth the pain. It felt like the last ceremony, where there were some thoughts I came up with myself, some thoughts I had no idea how I found myself in the middle of, and spirals into each thought.
I was more prepared this time around though, and tried to remind myself to breathe through the pain, and to accept it as part of the experience, and that it was all going to be okay, there was nothing else but to ride out and it would be over soon. I sobered up before the ceremony was officially over, but I was still reeling from the physical demands of the night. My stomach continued to hurt though the night, and I had to sit upright to help alleviate the intense cramping, and at one point, lay on my stomach to apply some alleviating pressure on it.
There really is no one typical ayahuasca experience; it’s so personal to your body, your journey and your intentions, and it’s different every time per person. The dosage lol is laughably irrelevant, and there is no preparing truly for the experience except welcoming it with open arms and fearlessness, because as Lucila is fond of reminding everyone, fear is something you can and must control.
Post-ayahuasca, I still find the experience incredibly cryptic. I have no idea what I was supposed to get out of it. No insights, no journeys to the other world, just pain inside out.
In the translations, Lucia complimented me on what a much better trip it was for me, and I handled it very well. I agreed, it was a much more calmer and less fearful experience, but it was still very painful. Lucia was nonplussed about it, but then I asked her, what was I supposed to get out of all this pain?
She told me I was experiencing confusion in my life (cue the constant existential questions I mentioned earlier) , but I needed to focus on my original intentions and purpose for coming here: to pursue clarity and alignment of my life with my values.
This was true as I could tell I was spending a lot of time at Mai Niti on friendship and connecting with others, which I enjoy, but it was taking away from time in focusing on working on myself.
I asked her how would I know if I was going the right direction and if I would ever reach clarity, or if it was going to be a lifelong pursuit. She responded with the latter.
Fifth ayahuasca trip:
I still went into it bracing myself for the worse, and reminding myself to push through the pain and bear it.
It was relatively a mild voyage, I was pretty lucid the entire time, but again it was a sensation of overwhelming and endless thoughts and images faster than I could process it. I had a terrible headache, and the stomach cramps seized me time and time again. At one point, I felt a strong urge to purge and even made a few hacking noises and motions to throw up, but I could just kept thinking how painful it was, and was fearing the pain to come. I knew I would feel better after purging, but I was so reluctant to even go through the pain. I knew that I was afraid, and I still clung on to fear to undergo the longer known pain than the sharper intense one.
Lucila called me up to her. She told me I was going a really good job, that I was calm, and doing great. She asked if I was feeling fine, and I said I was struggling with stomach pain. She said she would sing an icaro for me to whisk the pain away for me.
Before my talk with her, I couldn’t lay down because of the said stomach cramps, but after Lucila’s singing, I was finally able to collapse.
Later in my translation, I asked Lucia what to make out of my ceremony when all I felt was pain. She told me that pain is the medicine working, and not to worry that I didn’t purge. She sang to lessen the pain so I would be less preoccupied by it and let it do it’s thing.
I asked her I’m not sure if this was working, and what insights I was supposed to be getting out of these ceremonies. She replied that I need to look at the progress on a larger scale rather than individual ceremonies.
“Look how you came when you arrived, with lot of sadness and problems with family, but now you’re mind is a lot calmer. Compared to the beginning, and how your body and mind is now, you have progressed.”
And again, that was evidence she saw things I overlooked.
Last ayahuasca trip:
This was a memorable ceremony, not only because it was the last one, but also because Lucila invited her brother, another shaman, to join in this ceremony. He joined in and sang too, adding a more vivid, masculine energy to the ceremony. It was also full house in the maloka, all the volunteers and the guests.
It was the most peaceful and calm ceremony for me. I was also the most tired, so I drifting in and out of consciousness, but feeling like a comforting heavy weight on my body, the kind you get when your body is just coming out of a deep sleep. I felt that sensation of deep rest the entire time. My breathing was slow and relaxed.
It seemed to be like a pretty intense ceremony for everyone, especially those who had a full cup, as there was lots of purging and folks walking back and forth to the bathroom.
My last translation with Lucia said that the spirits gifted me a calm, last ceremony.
How do I feel about ayahuasca now?
The frequency of ayahuasca ceremonies at Mai Niti, and the ensuing lack of sleep too, can be hard on the body. It was really an intense physical and emotional experience for me, every single time. Not just the frequency, but the intensity of each trip. The trauma of my second ceremony and the lingering fear of ultimate surrender makes me understand why so many guests stay for months on end, as this process is a long one to come to trust and benefit from.
While I’m not in a hurry to take ayahuasca anytime soon, I do feel like my journey with it is not yet over. I know the majority of my experiences seem painful and dark, but I’m much more calmer and at ease with what’s to come, and comfortable with my own company. I was humbled at the extent of my limits and I’m proud of my strength. I’m really glad that I did it.
A lot of experience can also read as stupefying, and confusing. Trust me, I was perhaps suspicious and not understanding most of the process. I can't make sense how the same serving can produce such different responses in me every time, but it does suggest that it's a much more dynamic experience than I expected. Rather than feeling it didn't work, however, I feel it seems more like I have some more growing up to do to really be receptive to everything it has to offer. I still am curious about ayahuasca, and gave a general growing interest in plant medicine and respect for spirituality healing.
My original intention in coming to Mai Niti was to explore more of myself and set the tone right for my sabbatical. And I got that.
This was taken actually after all my ayahuascua ceremonies!
While ayahuasuca isn't for everyone, I do highly recommend those two weeks of being completely disconnected from the internet, from friends and family, and from the world at large. Being in a setting where you have easy access to nature and not much else is also important. Those two elements in itself was incredibly therapeutic, to reset, to rest.
I would spend days watching clouds pass, reading on hammocks, and enjoying the rain on my skin. Time moved so slowly, and my brain's pace started to match. I swam in rivers, napped during the day, and enjoyed leisurely conversations. I was liberated by a novel feeling that I had no where to go, nothing to do. It really doesn't take much to live a happy life. The simpler, the easier it is, actually.
Questions for you:
When is the last time you surrendered control? What feelings comes up when it comes to letting go?
When was the last time you felt completely present and at ease-when you had nothing to do, no where to go?
Special thanks to Alex and Jon, who were right about having visual accompaniments to this post. I initially couldn't think of any images to represent the mental anguish of my ceremonies. Where physical reality fails, though, art can evoke and enliven.