Night Four: The Pulsing Feminine Side.
I woke up the day of the fourth ceremony in a discombobulated state. My head ached, on the left side.
"The feminine side," I noted.
It extended from the left side of the back of my neck, up through the left side of my head, ending just at my hairline. Pulsing.
"It sounds like some bit of energy that is trying to get out," noted Maya, one of the ceremonial assistants.
I felt my psyche shifting. The previous night I'd had a conversation about my strength with myself, recognizing my ability to affect my space with it. I made peace with my masculine side. I understood it was always there. My feminine side needed to be more in balance.
I spoke briefly to Malcolm about it. He assured me we would get it moving in ceremony that evening.
I knew I would be taking even less ayahuasca in the ceremony. I contemplated shifting myself from a rocking chair to a mat for the ceremony. But I decided to stay in the chair.
I spent part of the rest of the afternoon by the pool, listening to others talk about ceremony. The main theme was "death." They were sharing their thoughts and preference for wanting to experience death in the ceremony. The feeling as if they had died, because that is what they associated with connecting to the idea of everything is intertwined.
I had difficulty connecting to the idea of wanting to experience death in ceremony. Not because I fear death - far from it. I do not fear death. But because I already feel that in ceremony we transition into that space of "death" mentally. We are there. In ceremony we connect to our energetic beings, and see that we are infinite. That we go on. We are always connected.
"Our energy continues to influence long after we physically are gone," I noted. "And death happens in every ceremony already, if we are choosing to release what needs to fall away."
I showed up at the ceremony house three hours before we were to begin. My mind was still moving quickly in thought, and I wanted to connect to the space well before ceremony began. The Sun set, and the house filled up. I sat reading for as long as I could on a mat near my chair. Eventually it was dark, and it was time to dose out the medicine.
Malcolm poured for me, this time choosing to only place a few drops - perhaps barely a tablespoon - into my cup. I couldn't look at the stuff. Doing so made my body convulse. I noted that one of the ceremony assistants had relied on Malcolm selecting his dose as well, and he had nearly a full cup.
My stomach turned just looking at it.
Once we had our doses, we raised the cups to each other and threw it back.
The few drops stuck in my throat.
I quickly grabbed my cup of water and my bucket to rinse and spit.
The taste was not going away.
The lights went out, and we sat in silence for quite a bit of time. Till Maestro Don Alberto started up the chakapa. Soon enough, the icaros were flowing from the four shamans, and I was connected into the space.
"You don't need to take anymore medicine," the voice said to me. "We're inside of you, flowing deeply."
I noted that I felt it in me even outside of ceremony.
"You can get into this space without it," it said. I very much knew that to be true, as evidenced by the previous night's activity.
The medicine talked to me about the need to be okay with my feminine side. I always shied away from being feminine at all times, choosing to exert a masculine appearance with certain elements.
While I love high heels and lipstick, that is often the most feminine thing about me because it is the easiest for me to maintain. There are many days where I don't fix my hair, instead just pulling it back. I attempt to primp and polish my nails, which end up chipped moments later. I hide myself under slightly baggy but stylish clothes. And I completely lack grace when I walk.
"Whatever balance you feel you need," the medicine noted. "But ideally, you should focus on being comfortable in a feminine space. You shouldn't try so hard to be feminine. Your strength is feminine too. Realize that."
I rocked back and forth in my chair, thinking about this. The ache in my neck and head remained. I stretched and moved them around, feeling a little bit of energy start to shift. Before I knew it, we were in the "soft landing" portion of the ceremony. The ceremony assistants walked around with the Koshi chimes, each stopping at my chair and playing them for me for a minute.
I soon became distracted by sounds coming from across the room.
A woman - here on her first tour - was having some discomfort. The ceremonial assistants and two of the shamans went over to her to see what was going on with her. At first, it was a quiet conversation. But soon the conversation got louder. She was speaking in a different voice. She was telling Malcolm how evil he was for doing this to her. I noted that Malcolm was standing a few feet away from her and was nowhere near her. She was making noises of discomfort as he spoke back to her, telling her he wasn't evil and that she needed to move on.
He was talking to dark energy in her. Dark energy and ideas that didn't want to move on.
"Have you ever seen anything like this, Heather?" asked my travel companion for this tour. It was her first time at Blue Morpho.
I laughed at the question.
"Yes," I said. "Something like this has happened on every tour I've been on. Ideas and energy are hard to let go for some psyches. It's not wanting to leave. It's rooted deeply. It'll make it's way out."
The apprenticing shaman stood over and sang icaros gently for her, using the chakapa. Malcolm continued to walk around the room, ensuring there were no issues elsewhere. Half an hour later, the woman seemed to be in a much better place. They eventually helped her to the shower in the ceremony house, helping cleanse her from the activity for the night.
Soon it was 11pm. Time to go back to my room. Only I had no desire to go back to my room. My mind was exhausted, and the headache slightly remained.
"I'm going to sleep here," I told my roommate. I crawled onto her mat, and fell in and out of sleep the rest of the night. Others remained in the ceremony house with me. But by the time the Sun rose at 6am, only two others remained. I pulled myself from the mat, still with the slight headache, and walked back to my room to shower.
I didn't need any more medicine.
"The feminine side," I noted.
It extended from the left side of the back of my neck, up through the left side of my head, ending just at my hairline. Pulsing.
"It sounds like some bit of energy that is trying to get out," noted Maya, one of the ceremonial assistants.
I felt my psyche shifting. The previous night I'd had a conversation about my strength with myself, recognizing my ability to affect my space with it. I made peace with my masculine side. I understood it was always there. My feminine side needed to be more in balance.
I spoke briefly to Malcolm about it. He assured me we would get it moving in ceremony that evening.
I knew I would be taking even less ayahuasca in the ceremony. I contemplated shifting myself from a rocking chair to a mat for the ceremony. But I decided to stay in the chair.
I spent part of the rest of the afternoon by the pool, listening to others talk about ceremony. The main theme was "death." They were sharing their thoughts and preference for wanting to experience death in the ceremony. The feeling as if they had died, because that is what they associated with connecting to the idea of everything is intertwined.
I had difficulty connecting to the idea of wanting to experience death in ceremony. Not because I fear death - far from it. I do not fear death. But because I already feel that in ceremony we transition into that space of "death" mentally. We are there. In ceremony we connect to our energetic beings, and see that we are infinite. That we go on. We are always connected.
"Our energy continues to influence long after we physically are gone," I noted. "And death happens in every ceremony already, if we are choosing to release what needs to fall away."
I showed up at the ceremony house three hours before we were to begin. My mind was still moving quickly in thought, and I wanted to connect to the space well before ceremony began. The Sun set, and the house filled up. I sat reading for as long as I could on a mat near my chair. Eventually it was dark, and it was time to dose out the medicine.
Malcolm poured for me, this time choosing to only place a few drops - perhaps barely a tablespoon - into my cup. I couldn't look at the stuff. Doing so made my body convulse. I noted that one of the ceremony assistants had relied on Malcolm selecting his dose as well, and he had nearly a full cup.
My stomach turned just looking at it.
Once we had our doses, we raised the cups to each other and threw it back.
The few drops stuck in my throat.
I quickly grabbed my cup of water and my bucket to rinse and spit.
The taste was not going away.
The lights went out, and we sat in silence for quite a bit of time. Till Maestro Don Alberto started up the chakapa. Soon enough, the icaros were flowing from the four shamans, and I was connected into the space.
"You don't need to take anymore medicine," the voice said to me. "We're inside of you, flowing deeply."
I noted that I felt it in me even outside of ceremony.
"You can get into this space without it," it said. I very much knew that to be true, as evidenced by the previous night's activity.
The medicine talked to me about the need to be okay with my feminine side. I always shied away from being feminine at all times, choosing to exert a masculine appearance with certain elements.
While I love high heels and lipstick, that is often the most feminine thing about me because it is the easiest for me to maintain. There are many days where I don't fix my hair, instead just pulling it back. I attempt to primp and polish my nails, which end up chipped moments later. I hide myself under slightly baggy but stylish clothes. And I completely lack grace when I walk.
"Whatever balance you feel you need," the medicine noted. "But ideally, you should focus on being comfortable in a feminine space. You shouldn't try so hard to be feminine. Your strength is feminine too. Realize that."
I rocked back and forth in my chair, thinking about this. The ache in my neck and head remained. I stretched and moved them around, feeling a little bit of energy start to shift. Before I knew it, we were in the "soft landing" portion of the ceremony. The ceremony assistants walked around with the Koshi chimes, each stopping at my chair and playing them for me for a minute.
I soon became distracted by sounds coming from across the room.
A woman - here on her first tour - was having some discomfort. The ceremonial assistants and two of the shamans went over to her to see what was going on with her. At first, it was a quiet conversation. But soon the conversation got louder. She was speaking in a different voice. She was telling Malcolm how evil he was for doing this to her. I noted that Malcolm was standing a few feet away from her and was nowhere near her. She was making noises of discomfort as he spoke back to her, telling her he wasn't evil and that she needed to move on.
He was talking to dark energy in her. Dark energy and ideas that didn't want to move on.
"Have you ever seen anything like this, Heather?" asked my travel companion for this tour. It was her first time at Blue Morpho.
I laughed at the question.
"Yes," I said. "Something like this has happened on every tour I've been on. Ideas and energy are hard to let go for some psyches. It's not wanting to leave. It's rooted deeply. It'll make it's way out."
The apprenticing shaman stood over and sang icaros gently for her, using the chakapa. Malcolm continued to walk around the room, ensuring there were no issues elsewhere. Half an hour later, the woman seemed to be in a much better place. They eventually helped her to the shower in the ceremony house, helping cleanse her from the activity for the night.
Soon it was 11pm. Time to go back to my room. Only I had no desire to go back to my room. My mind was exhausted, and the headache slightly remained.
"I'm going to sleep here," I told my roommate. I crawled onto her mat, and fell in and out of sleep the rest of the night. Others remained in the ceremony house with me. But by the time the Sun rose at 6am, only two others remained. I pulled myself from the mat, still with the slight headache, and walked back to my room to shower.
I didn't need any more medicine.
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