When I was a little girl, I fell in love with the movie Fairytale: A True Story. It was a story about two little girls, Frances and Elsie, that befriended some fairies at the bottom of their garden in West Yorkshire. One scene, in particular, is when Elsie asks her mum outright, "Do you believe in fairies?" Of course, my small gut thought yes. The tale of the Cottingley fairies, as it came to be known, was actually, in fact, a hoax, but that didn't deter my curiosity for the supernatural growing up. As a teen all through to adulthood, I was still very much transfixed by fantasy worlds and elvish lands in movies and tv series. I genuinely believed in other-than-human creatures even though I didn't know what that looked like in our ordinary world… that was until recently.
I was lying in my tent, having just ingested Ayahuasca, a psychoactive and entheogenic brew made from plants native to South America typically used in shamanic ceremonies. I'd been waiting a long time to do this, five years to be precise. An uncle of mine who regularly attends ayahuasca ceremonies had invited me to join when I was last in Colombia five years ago. Luckily my mother intervened and prohibited me from going. I say lucky because this plant medicine is not for the faint-hearted. It's known for its hallucinatory experience, often tied to bringing your subconscious into awareness. At the time of my uncle's invite, I hadn't done any shadow work, let alone understood what I was committing to. So unlike many things, this isn’t an experience that I would say is for everyone.
The night started at about ten thirty, with an introduction by the shaman and his assistant from the Cofan tribe, talking about how Ayahuasca ended up on our earth, "it is said that god plucked a hair out and planted it on earth." I found it intriguing that the word God was used and how many references to Catholicism would ensue that evening. He then explained what would happen, "you will experience vomiting or/and diarrhoea, don't worry, this is the plant medicine working through you. We advise you to try and keep it in for 2-3 hours and then let your body throw it out. It will know when the time is right." I had heard about this first-hand and read up, but absolutely nothing prepared me for experiencing it. Shortly after, the shaman began to chant, and we began to get called up to drink.
First approached men whose first time it was, then men who had drunk before. Followed by women whose first time it was, and then women who had drunk before. Off I went to queue up. I had heard that it tasted horrible, but I can't even describe the level of grossness in words. Even remembering the taste as I type sends a shiver down my back. After downing a cup, you get water to rinse your mouth and spit in a bucket. Then it's a waiting game and a mind battle with your digestive system to keep the plant medicine in. Slowly but surely, you begin to hear what sounds like people croaking like frogs as one by one begin to throw up their yajé (Ayahuasca). I've heard puking before, but it felt like people were throwing up their lungs and I wondered how much people had eaten beforehand.
We were advised in the run-up to avoid certain foods, fast if we could beforehand and limit our intake of drugs and alcohol. It was barely thirty minutes in, or what I believe to be thirty minutes, as time is seriously warped. I joined the chorus of croakers as I stood by a tree, holding myself up as my whole body violently vomited. Drinking it tasted horrific, but puking it was the worst thing I've ever tasted. At this point, I'm thinking, is this level of bodily torture worth it? Once I was done throwing my guts up, I rinsed out my mouth and noticed my hand was shaking from the sheer exhaustion and toll it was taking on my body. I headed to my tent, stupidly left my shoes at the foot of my tent (they later filled with water from the downpour overnight) and ensured the flap to escape was open should I need to puke again.
Once I settled into my tent and sleeping bag, I closed my eyes and sank into the floor. I started to feel very lightheaded, and before I knew it, my trip had started, but it wasn't long before I got distracted by a young boy having a bad trip. He sounded like someone was performing an exorcism, and a lady was shouting for someone to help him. You could hear the assistants trying to calm him down. One of the most challenging parts of the whole trip was trying to stay in my own experience when you have literally twenty people a few meters away tripping. So I decided to put some music on my phone. Unlike other tribes, the Cofan don't play music during the ceremony apart from the occasional singing, which by the way has the wonderful effect of making you puke. Once I played the music, I returned to my pinta (hallucination/trip).
I started by seeing an Incan statue made of stone dancing in an amazon forest sensually. Blood reds painted its native outfit, and fire lanterns were on either side. I then saw myself as if out of my body, laying on a hay bale that began rising with a cone-shaped mountain coming up from the ground. Hundreds and hundreds of people surrounded me, chanting as if I was some goddess. My intention for this second night was "why did you bring me here?" and the answer I got back was "reclaiming your feminine energy, power and sexuality." After about fifteen minutes, my phone died, and I got sucked back into the collective groans and heaving around me. I waited a bit and sat in the maloca (outdoor hut) by the fire until a second toma (drink) was available. Once I got my second shot, it was a repeat of the waiting, the puking, and the hallucination.
Once I began what would be the journey that would go on all night, I was greeted by various glowing orbs in pastel colours, hues of pink and purple. I quickly realised fairies were whizzing around me at an alarming pace. They introduced themselves and asked if they could play with me. I said, "yes" with complete and utter trust. I had a bit of a moment of "I knew you were real!" We played a few different games, hide and seek at first and then they took over my mind, messing around with my face and body at one point. I was making funny faces and odd body shapes I had zero control over. They gave me the gift of their voice at another point, and I began singing almost siren-like songs. It was really beautiful. They kept saying how much fun they had with me. It was light and playful. Then after a while, they started to share information that they were insistent I remember.
They kept saying "Wise Guides" and "University" numerous times, followed by "remember, remember, remember" and insisted I repeat it to make sure I’d not forget. They told me that they knew the name of my future husband, Jonathan (any single Jonathan’s out there?). They said I'd meet him at a university. They said they'd show me the future. I saw Dr Alexandra Galviz in writing, followed by what looked like watching a movie backwards of signing books and standing on big stages public speaking. They said that for that to come through, I needed to go back to university. Something that I have been debating for the past eight years. I saw myself living and studying in London. Going to Hampshire on the weekends for wild swims and woodland time with my friends. Lastly, they told me to "slow down career-wise. Don't be in such a rush. Everything has its timing."
I woke up that morning numerous times, to run to the loo and had the joy of emptying my walking boots of all the rain that had filled them. At one point I could sense someone walking behind me and I was glad, because I was zig zagging all over the place on a wet slope still high as a kite at 7am. There was an option to do a limpieza (cleanse) which is where the shaman chants and cleans any energy off you but I was still very much on the other side. I went back to bed and by the time I woke up again at 10am, all the tents had been packed up and everyone was gone. After a split second panic of “did they leave me?” I started to pack my things. The drive back to the capital with friends was rather lovely, with winding roads and acoustic music on the radio. When we stopped for food I could barely put anything in my stomach. The rest of the week was pretty much a nausea fest and I didn't leave the house because I was still very much borracha (drunk) as the taitas (shamans) called it.
Yesterday I spoke to my therapist about my experience; she had some interesting insights and wonderings. First, she asked me how I was feeling, and I mentioned the expectation that people have about it being a massively life-changing just wasn’t the case for me. We also talked about how I had my own expectations of the experience which was expecting the worst. I mean someone had talked to me about puking their mum, and that sounded like a plausible hallucination, given my past. But my experiences were warm, loving, and fun, and I wondered if maybe I’d done all the hard and raw soul work in my healing process. It wasn’t until my therapist dropped the mic with, “what if your experience showed you that your subconscious isn’t just full of difficult things to deal with. That it can be loving and fun and reassuring as it was. That you can be held and loved by a mother." Ayahuasca is often referred to as Mother Aya referring to Mother Earth... queue the waterworks.
P.s: I also had an experience with aliens on the other night, but maybe that’s for another blog.
Feel free to leave me any questions you might have about my experience in the comments.
With love and magic,
#AuthenticAlex
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After reading it sounds like your healing continues. As far as the vision of the future it sounds like you could have a great one. Praying for your life and success.