Five Weeks in the Amazon - #true #story

Chapter 33 - My Thoughts So Far

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 1

4:30pm, the top floor of the big tambo in a hammock

When the sun gets low in the afternoon, the birds start singing different songs than in the morning. There are different types of birds at this time of day too, and the symphony of the jungle celebrates its last hour of light with a final show.

Once the sun has set, and it's fully dusk, the jungle becomes gray. At first it becomes less and less colorful, then at a certain point the color's gone and it's totally black—but in the moments before then, when it's still gray, the sounds seem to stop and the jungle comes as close to being silent as it ever gets. The daytime animals have hidden, the nocturnal animals are waiting, and the nighttime is coming. They wait for its protective blanket of darkness to hide them.

I feel more connected to nature in this moment than I've ever felt. The rise and fall of the sun, the flashes of lightning, the rainstorm which come fast and hard, the heat each day, the plants that nourish me, the Earth below my feet which I feel embraced by—for now I'm alive, and a thriving part of it. I am an animal born from the same Earth I'll return to. This part in the middle is all I've got.

I feel more natural in my body, and I think a large part of that has come from Ayahuasca bridging together the parts of me which were disconnected. It hasn't been an easy process but it has become much easier.

If someone asked me the best frame of mind to be in when you Ayahuasca, my advice would be as follows:

Kneel down and take the cup.

Hold it in front of you and focus.

Give it your full attention and concentrate on your intention.

Don't wait too long.

With your intention in mind, and without thinking too much, forget about the foul taste and with discipline, imagine what you are about to drink is a beautiful part of nature.

As you slug back the thick shot, think about drinking it like you are drinking a liquid sunset. Absorb its gorgeous wonder, and give it the reverence and appreciation that true natural beauty deserves.

Whether it is a sunset entering my eyes, or Ayahuasca entering my soul, these are nature's gifts. A sunset is easy to appreciate; all you have to do is look West. The best sunsets are seen from high mountain peaks, or untouched beaches, but Ayahuasca has one catch—it tastes like shit—so I try to picture it like it's a green smoothie for my soul. Ever had a beet-carrot-ginger-juice? Good for the body, but tastes like shit. Ayahuasca could be compared to the ultimate shot of wheat-grass—it just happens to be disguised as a shot of jungle medicine-slime that tastes like a moldy-sock reduction.

If someone asked me, that's what I'd suggest. It may sound far-fetched, but for me it made the experience more agreeable. And, trust me, anything that makes the taste less intimidating and the shot more bearable to drink is a good thing.

6:30pm, the top floor of the big tambo, waking up from a nap

I just woke up from a nap and can still recall what was happening as I fell asleep. It struck me that it was a similar feeling as when you drink Ayahuasca and I will try to describe it. My memory is a bit soft and blurry, but I am trying to keep it within my grasp.

I got in the hammock I'm in now and almost went straight into a nap when I laid down. I could feel the sleeping hormones washing through my body as I thought about what I'm going to do tomorrow. Right before I drifted off to sleep, there was a short period when my mind was balancing between being awake and entering a dream.

I seemed to slip in and out, from being awake in my hammock to being awake in my dreams. I was going back and forth across the threshold between my conscious mind and the dream world. It's this middle ground which feels similar to the plane of consciousness Ayahuasca takes you to.

This is what makes Ayahuasca special and different from other psychoactive drugs. It doesn't just bend your conscious perception of reality (like most hallucinogens); it opens a part of our personal reality we don't often have access to. It gives us the ability to enter and extend the window of time we experience between waking (conscious) and dream (unconscious) states.

Thinking back to how the nap started, I remember I was thinking about what I was going to do tomorrow when something bizarre interrupted my thoughts. I can't remember exactly what it was, but it was weird—something strange like fishing for baby elephants with Wayne Gretzky.

I would catch myself when something bizarre like this popped into my head and I would realize I was brushing up against the edge of a dream. However, I was able to stay lucid enough to have influence on how the dream would begin. I could interact with it a bit.

I wasn't directing my thoughts like I was when I was thinking about tomorrow. It changed to me being an observer with criticism. My conscious mind not only could observe, but could also interject proactively.

Balancing between my conscious, sober mind, and my sleeping, dreaming mind, I would give my opinion on what had been created by my subconscious mind that was projecting the bizarre parts, the parts that were coming from the unknown in me.

My belief is when we are aware of being in this state—lucid as I have just described—our subconscious expressions are exposed to our conscious mind. It's like a surgeon having the chance to look inside his patient, and the reason it's an effective healing technique is because our subconscious, or dream state, holds hidden answers to what's broken within us. Even if we think we have forgotten, our goal is not to forget but to know and accept.

Entering these subconscious states, while still having access to our conscious mind, gives each one of us the opportunity to be an observer. As an observer we have the chance to affect our internal and external being. By seeing into what is broken in ourselves, we can repair ourselves.

Remember, one of the greatest evolutionary traits we have is our ability to forget traumatic events. We block out the worst of what we experience to make life more tolerable. We couldn't survive without this skill, and the animal in us wants to heal itself, accepting and moving past the pain.

But we are stubborn animals. With our fancy self-awareness it's hard to know what to do, or how we are meant to heal. This is why I am grateful the Earth provided such an abundance of amazing plant medicines. Ayahuasca is one that's unequaled in its ability to teach and heal.



Drinking alcohol could not be compared to dreaming or drinking Ayahuasca. Being drunk makes you lose control, and after your first drink your judgment becomes impaired, which is different than Ayahuasca. With Ayahuasca, the conscious mind always seems available to interject. Most of all, your judgment remains sound. When I take Ayahuasca, I feel more or less like I do now, straight-minded and sober. (Well, at least enough to be aware of what's happening) I never feel like I've lost control to a drug—just a little like I'm waking up from a nap, lying in a hammock in the humid heat of the jungle.



To ignore our ego, which defines and controls us, and admit what we see, I can understand why people are scared to look into themselves. It's scary to pull off the mask we all wear. The mind is a vast place to become lost in, but why be scared of getting lost in your own? Would you rather be scared of yourself, or scared of the world? We must conquer ourselves first if there's any hope of conquering the second.

All the experiences I've had, both in the jungle and with Ayahuasca, have been the most rewarding, helpful, satisfying, clarifying, amazing, personal, necessary, and magnificent experiences of my entire life.