A significant portion of this piece was written after a brief journey to stay with the Huni Kuin in the Amazon rainforest in May 2023; it contains actual accounts of plant medicine experiences and subsequent integration processes. All edits and updates have been made by the original author.
My movements were painfully slow, but somehow, I had finally managed to get myself upright on the palm frond mat. The maloca was dark, and my vision blurred, as I tried to orient myself with the dancing light from the sacred fire in front of me.
I tried to raise my arm for help, but I couldn’t manage to get it higher than my shoulder. I knew my voice was too weak, and the ceremony space too dark, to get anyone’s attention – and I couldn’t wait.
“Mama, please help me…” I mumbled under my breath weakly as the stomach pains churned. I needed to get to an outhouse, but I felt so dizzy and weak. “Please give me strength… Thank you Mama…”
Attempting the Impossible
My eyes settled on a wooden support beam about ten feet from me and I managed to pull myself from my mat. My steps were labored and erratic, but I made it to the beam before collapsing back to the ground.
My eyes opened as soon as my body finished crumpling, and I began my quest once more. Using the beam to pull myself up, I set my cross-eyed gaze upon the entrance of the sacred building, about 15 feet away, and felt myself moving again.
The next time my eyes opened after I witnessed my body falling from within my darkened consciousness once more, I was surprised and encouraged to find myself right outside the maloca’s doors. I peeled myself from the dirt and took a moment to breathe, whispering, “Thank you Mama, thank you Mama…”
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On my next attempt, I only made it about seven feet. After painstakingly getting myself halfway up to sit in the dirt, I decided I would just crawl the remaining 100 yards or so, determined to make it to the outhouses.
My stomach churned, this time the pain was accompanied with nausea, and I knew I had to move faster. I felt a familiar sadness, a self-pity, stinging in my chest and behind my eyes. It was a brief and fleeting sensation that I quickly purged with a few silent tears before resetting my perspective.
“Thank you Mama,” I said with more conviction, pulling myself over my knees to begin crawling. I didn’t know how I was going to make it, but nothing was going to stop me from trying.
Receiving Divine Support
After crawling just a few feet, I was suddenly greeted by Pajé Maspã. The tiny medicine woman was a vision in her white and black feathered headdress and ceremonial outfit. She was accompanied by two other tribeswomen, whom she quickly directed to help me back up on my feet.
We began moving swiftly towards the outhouses, only pausing briefly a few times when I was overcome with dizziness and pain. They let me down easily to my knees the first time, and then held me as I doubled over for the next two, continually helping me to rise again and again.
When we reached the edge of the bush where the path narrowed, Maspã took my hand in hers to lead me. The other women followed behind us, gently supporting my waist and elbows as I swayed wildly with each step.
I had come to adore the feeling of Maspã’s hand in mine, so small and delicate, yet firm and sure. She had guided me through the rainforest just the day before, giving me a plant bath after I had nearly fainted from a mysterious wondering pain that she had banished from my head, then chest, and finally my belly.
We made it to the outhouses much quicker than I would have alone and I climbed the ladder gratefully. Once inside, I managed to get myself situated on my own, and began to feel the dizziness slowly subside with my relief.
Reflecting on Serendipity
I knew I was in for a difficult ceremony even before it started. Waking from my nap to the sound of commotion through the village. News that the ceremony had been moved up from 10pm to 9pm spread quickly. With only 10 minutes to get myself ready, I soon discovered I had caught “jungle guts” when I stopped at the outhouses on my way to the maloca.
I felt sure that it had been moved up, at least in part, so that I wouldn’t have been tempted to skip it upon discovering I was ill. Still, coupled with the physical exhaustion from my episode the day before, my small-self was genuinely terrified.
As I sat in the outhouse again later that night, I marveled at the misery of my physical state, especially as it was juxtaposed by the immense gratitude and strength I felt emanating from my spirit. “Thank you Mama, thank you Mama…” I began whispering to myself, smiling.
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I was covered in sweat and dirt that stung my eyes. Continually belching to purge a ridiculous amount of hot air that had been trapped inside of me since childhood. My mouth tasted of fresh vomit and my nostrils still burned with rápe (a sacred tobacco snuff). My insides turning painfully as the loose stools poured out of me – yet, I felt absolutely beautiful and proud.
I must have been in the outhouse for at least 20 minutes before I felt I could return to the maloca. Upon opening the door, I found Maspã and the other women were waiting for me.
“Gratidão…” I managed, as Maspã took my hand again. I was walking much more steadily now and the other women brushed off some of the dirt I had collected from falling as they followed us back to the maloca.
Relaxing into Presence
Maspã led me back to my mat where I laid down in the fetal position, facing the fire. She quickly got her bowl of smudge and returned to cleanse me with the smoke, chanting prayers as it swirled around me.
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. When I opened them again, Maspã had gone on to continue smudging others throughout the maloca.
I stared into the fire, my body weaker than it had ever been. There were no visions for me that night, the medicine was working purely physically, but I remained mesmerized by the holy flames.
The shamans called for those who wanted a second cup of Ayahuasca, but I couldn’t move. I felt Mama Aya comforting me and telling me, “Just relax, you’re already doing the work.”
I watched as people lined up to receive the medicine. My eyes often closing as waves of exhaustion would hit me.
Soon after the second dose was given, they resumed the traditional Huni Kuin chants and dancing. I remained still, listening to the divine resonance of the indigenous voices rise powerfully over the sounds of the rainforest outside, and watching the hypnotic movements of bodies moving around the sacred fire.
Following the Flow
After some time, I felt a strong desire to get up and dance. I managed to get myself sitting again and settled on trying to sing the parts of the chants I had managed to learn so far, swaying gently with the rhythm of the tribe.
Samira came over to see if I wanted to join her and a tribeswoman for some cannabis, and I knew immediately that it would help my stomach pains. I got up slowly and then took my time following them outside. Not far from the maloca, we sat on wooden benches beneath a tree and the two women talked quietly as we shared the joint.
They had been trying to involve me in conversation, Samira translating again and again, but I was too out of it to be able to follow. My pain and nausea were finally subsiding, but I couldn’t seem to overcome my overall weakness and exhaustion.
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I had told Samira that I was ill at the start of ceremony and she said to let her know if or when I might need to go lay down, so I asked her if it would be better for me to remain on my mat in the maloca or go rest in my hammock at that point. She consulted with the other woman and then let me know I could retire for the night since I hadn’t taken a second cup.
I thanked them both and went to retrieve my things, going to the outhouses again before heading to the bunkhouse. I made it to my hammock without incident, quickly falling asleep as the sounds of ceremony echoed across the village clearing. “Thank you Mama…” I whispered one last time, “Thank you Mama.”
Integrating Essential Weakness
In the 16 months that have passed since this experience, not a day has gone by without the opportunity to work with the immense grace it taught me to have for myself. It might seem crazy to some, that I not only went to the Amazon rainforest to voluntarily subject myself to intense purging, but also that I would be so grateful for such an experience too. Yet, as I reminisce about those moments, remembering the intense pain and weakness I endured, the significance of this experience is undeniable – if I had to do it all again, I would.
Having struggled throughout my life to give myself compassion and care as a trauma survivor, having the opportunity to receive such gifts from the Huni Kuin was both humbling and inspiring. No matter the circumstances, or how often I needed their assistance, they were attentive and kind. I couldn’t help but see the stark differences between their grace for me and my own typical self-judgements.
This wasn’t my first experience with sacred medicines, and throughout my healing journey I have been given the opportunity to learn how to overcome my self-depreciation and lean further into self-care. Still, the extremity of my weakness in these moments seemed to invite me into the deepest awareness of these themes that I have ever had – ultimately changing everything about how I live my life ever since.
Mama Aya has worked with me to address not only my traumas, but the behaviors that resulted from that conditioning and the subsequent attempts at coping that followed too. This is why, even amidst the anguish, my mantra of gratitude for the medicine remained consistent. This is also why, even amidst the mundane challenges of my normal life, I continue to look for opportunities to appreciate my circumstances – regardless of how frustrating or unpleasant they may be.
Truly, this integration of gratitude, and the power of reclamation it offers in each and every moment, is the most profound and important lesson I have ever learned from working with Ayahuasca. I am honored to continually resound, “Thank you Mama!”
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