The Spirit of the Plant

Take away everything that I have ever said about Ayahuasca not having a spirit.  That it is all in my mind.  That is never speaks to me.  I finally got the message.  You'd think that I would have understood this after my other little crazy adventures.  But now I get it.

There is a spirit.  Where it takes me is not of my own background.  And if if it takes me to some part of my collective unconscious, so be it.  Whatever the space it takes me to, it is not mine.  It never was.  But I was there before, before I was born or in some past life.   And I will be there again.

The spirit spoke softly to me initially.  At Costa Rica, the first thing that it said was "do you really want to do this."  And I don't think I really responded.   I certain didn't understand what I was being asked.

So having not received the message of what was at stake, it kept re-framing the question.  On basically what amounted to a microdose of the medicine, it took me to an all familiar place.  "See Mike, this is the real ceremony.  This moment.  You have been here before through time immemorial.  And these people or things leading the ceremony, are dispassionate.  And they are are ancient and vaguely Mayan, as much as they are alien.    There is no love here.  There is no welcoming.  This is what you do.  This is like the way-station.  You come here and are reborn.  This is what you have done.  What  you see and experience here is what you have seen and experienced before."

And then the break occurs.  I lose awareness of where I am and who I am.  In this world, I do not remember what happens in that world.  I do not remember it now.  I really wish I did.  Maybe that is the key.  What I do remember when I am in that world, is something is horribly wrong.   I tell the woman who drove me to the ceremony, "I did not know that you accompany me on these journeys."  And that is a true statement when I make it.  Because I have become someone else.  And the rules are different.  I continue to her nevertheless:  "I want to go back to my old life and the farmhouse.  I do not want to be here.  I do not want to ever do this again."

And then it repeats.  You cry out for a woman, a different woman each time who will not come.  Of course.  For the cries in medicine space are never heard in this space, even by law enforcement (lol).

And the shaman sings icaros in you ear.  A good shaman this time.  And still you think he is evil.  And the icaros are trying to tranquilize you.

And you try to be born against the evil things holding you back.   And of course, by now, they are literally and figuratively holding you back. And of course, like before, you think they are evil.    Where before, you wanted to be the one sperm that lives to fertilize the egg,  now you want to be the one plant that survives the endless competition of nature, to be with her an reproduce.   Its all about biology right?  The survival of the fittest  Where would you get that idea at these days?  lol    And you feel that this struggle is familiar,  and you want to get further than you did last time.  Even if you again can't make it this time.  And that is why you cling to the underneath of the car so that they cannot carry you back to the ceremony room.  And that is why you refuse water because that will drug you and make you weak like alcohol, just like before.   And you strip off your clothes because they are vestiges of garments of this world that will hold you back.  Yes, my friend, you really did that. 

And of course, there is no voice inside you reminding you of where you are actually at, and who the demons actually are.  And no voice just telling you to surrender and let this be, to go into it.  For this is all part of the journey, right?

And of course, the container of the ceremony is all wrong.  It does not contain me.  I must want to go back to that ceremony of my own volition.  If you try and drag me back, I will think you are evil and resist.  It would be nice to break out of that cycle.

And I suppose that is the carrot left dangling ahead of me.  That I can learn to surrender to the medicine ceremony.  And be reborn.  But something in this life won't let me.  Even my intention to surrender going in is vetoed in a big way.  Until I resolve to let go completely of this life, to sacrifice everything, to be reborn, I will not take another run at it.   That is the spirit of the plant speaking to me.   But I don't want that cold dispassionate ceremony where there is no love, no compassion, no understanding.  And I imagine this is why the religions  based on love developed in response to this realization.  Religions of love developed to bring hope and faith.  And with them, humanity attempted to escape the realization of our destiny.

And then my new friend Grizz tells me of his similar story, and how he learned to surrender.  And I wish there would have been something in me at that time, some voice comforting me.  But there was nothing.  Just a tenacious ego clinging to its dear life.

And he tells me that this is the hero's journey.

And I imagine a ceremony with on all kinds of messages scattered all over the place reminding me that this is not real.  That I came here to surrender.  And I see myself completing the journey.  But I wonder how is this possible, when I lose my volition, and what emerges is as wild and untamed as a frightened animal fighting for survival.

And the shaman asks we afterwards if I have vivid dreams.  And of course, I do.  The veil between the spirit world and this world is thin for me.  And maybe the wild untamed me will come to me in this world, and I can surrender to it and work with it, without diving back into the medicine space.

I don't know my friend.  I am without answers.  Only questions.