Grandmother's Calling: An Ayahuasca Story

Originally featured in Fat Nugs Magazine Vol. 24: Psychedelics Edition. Enjoy the great articles and community at fatnugsmag.com.

At the altar, the Shaman gave me an all-knowing smile before filling a small cup with ayahuasca and handing it over with a gentle Yawanawan blessing. I tossed back the thick, bitter, earthy brew and settled in for one of the most memorable nights of my life.

They say ayahuasca calls to you when it is time. Something I didn’t quite understand until I felt the call weaving into my life. It kept coming up in conversations with podcast guests and friends, appearing unexpectedly in books, and showing up in documentaries and artists’ references. The synchronicity became too great to resist.

As an experienced psychonaut, I was too curious for my own good and excited to explore the altered state but also more than a little worried about it. Knowing how challenging the introspective aspects can be, I did everything I possibly could to get ready. 

I had signed up almost 4 months before the ceremony, so I had plenty of time to prepare physically, mentally and spiritually. I started journaling more consistently, digging into past experiences, lingering regrets and any emotional knots I could find. My thought was, “If I can face this stuff now, maybe Grandmother Ayahuasca won’t have to be so hard on me later.”

I also began practicing box breathing regularly to calm down, refocus and sleep. A simple, but powerful technique: inhale for four seconds, hold for four, exhale for four seconds, hold again for four and repeat. Even typing it out relaxes me. When experiences or events are challenging around psychedelics, you most often need to just relax, breathe, and not fight it, so I made sure I could relax effortlessly. Pairing this with meditation as well, I was in a “zen” state of mind.

Ayahuasca is known to be a little “jealous” too, so I also cut my use of cannabis completely for over one hundred days before the ceremony and psilocybin about a month before. The retreat  suggested stopping all cannabis or other substance use for a week beforehand and two weeks after, but I was already on a moderation break, so I stuck with it. Sober Rob barreling towards a date with destiny.

A few weeks beforehand, the dieta began, a kind of spiritual and physical cleanse that can vary from shaman to shaman but always follow the guidelines you are given. Seven days out, I cut red meat, pork, pasta, bread and caffeine. Water became my only drink, having at least two liters a day. Three days out, I ate mostly vegetables and soup with a little chicken while cutting out spices, garlic and hot sauce. Finally, one day before I was fully vegetarian, feeling lighter physically and emotionally. 

The retreat was run by loving, experienced facilitators, and the ceremony itself was held by traveling shamans from the Yawanawan tribe of the Amazon. There was almost a 1:1 ratio of participants to sitters. We were made to feel very safe and comfortable. Tapestries lined the great hall we sat in and everyone had a nest of blankets and pillows to see them through the night. The excitement and curiosity was almost too much to bear at this point and completely overtook any sense of fear. I was already there; no turning back now. We did a series of breathwork exercises and meditations to build the egregore and begin to shape the ceremonial space that we would. share over the next twelve hours. I just kept repeating to myself: accept and surrender, whatever comes up, be thankful and appreciative. 

After everyone had been served the medicine, we sat in dark stillness with only the flames of candlelight flickering. I stared into the candlelight and explored my mindstate looking for any telltale signs of the trip to come. Soon the soft glow of the candlelight began to stretch out and expand, the corona of light had been only an inch or so before but slowly reached the walls of the room, illuminating everything. That’s when the music began.

There’s no way to capture the experience in words, but I keep trying. It was absolutely mentally, visually and spiritually profound. The icaros played and sung by the shamans felt sacred and alive. The medicine responded favorably, starting with closed eye rhythmic visuals that kaleidoscoped around with each beat of the drum. Then came open-eyed bliss and wonder. The room, the people and the very air around me was alight with sacred geometry. Multi-colored triangles, octagons and tetrahedrons all stacked and twisting on top of one another creating an infinite architecture. It was as if I could see for a moment, the very structure of reality, and it was utterly and simply beautiful.

At times, I’d realize my mouth was hung wide open in pure awe of the whole experience. I would smile with my whole soul so big, it would hurt my face and try to shut it before getting sucked back into the magic of the moment. Tears occasionally rolled down my cheeks and Grandmother, in her own way, spoke to me through symbolism and color, light and emotion. She said “Everything is okay, you know? There’s no need to worry or stress all of the time.” I felt for the first, and maybe only, time I can remember a true sense of relaxation and presence. I had no worries, no concerns, no anxiety, no projects to work on or stuff to do, no identity to manage. I was just me, and I was everything and everything was me.

After ayahuasca had shown me the beauty of the cosmos, we went inward together, and the experience was still visual and stunning, but the introspection settled in. One striking example of this is when I found myself standing on an asteroid or some big piece of rock moving through space worried about my life and what an impact I had made. Everything I have been working on or trying to build was all condensed and smashed together into a little rock, and I threw it out in space from where I stood. It floated onward at a comically slow speed out into the nothingness where it instantly vanished, and a very real primal fear of death arose to replace it. I thought, could all my work and effort in this life have been so meaningless?

But the medicine was playing a little game with me, it seems, because a moment later I realized that I won’t actually die because my sweet, little daughter will live on for me, and that’s the important part. It sounds obvious saying it, but the depth to these realizations and the impact they made were intense and tearful. I’m a stoic family man in general, but the way this love for my daughter felt in that moment still lingers now; it was complete. The medicine had cracked me open to show me something I already knew, but apparently had not fully “felt”.

From that point onward, different vignettes and things played out from my life, interactions with family, past relationships, work life, friends and more. I would observe and try to accept things as they were or forgive people for anything I held against them and more importantly forgive myself, something I realized I didn’t do often enough. When things got difficult, I would box breathe and think of my daughter and my loving wife. They were like a spiritual blanket throughout the entire experience.

My second night with aya followed that same pattern with a bit less of the pure joy and wonder from the first. I can’t help but think Grandmother was pleased with the preparation and work I put in beforehand or at least acknowledged it by letting me see the beauty of the universe before the work began. I found out my experience was unique, some had almost nothing happen, others had much more challenging nights or found themselves in the bathroom and/or hovering over their bucket too often.

I did not purge during the experience though there were a few moments where I was super nauseous and physically uncomfortable. I kept a small piece of dried palo santo with me to light and smell when needed. I find the scent of palo santo to be grounding; it has a way of piercing the veil of psychedelia to help stabilize when needed.

Integration started right away as participants shared their experiences and were encouraged to look at their lives to see what needs to change or be reconsidered. Some very poignant and sad stories were present, showing the visceral healing power of the medicine. The level of trauma some were dealing with was heartbreaking, but the group was there to listen and help them through it all with humility. 

I think my smaller traumas especially around workaholism and always “being busy” were softened by the experience. I came away from it with a renewed and intensified commitment to family and an expanded sense of connection to my community and the people around me. Now, I find myself looking at folks two cars over on the highway and feeling strangely connected in some unexplainable way like we’re all in this together, which again is a “deepity” in that it sounds simple, but there’s a real philosophical weight there that I feel much more than I did before. Oh, I also stopped drinking caffeine after that… except for Saturdays.

Ayahuasca wasn’t a magic fix, but it gave me a real perspective and a wider lens to see my life, habits and relationships. I did not come back with all the answers, but I think I’m asking better questions now, so that’s a step in the right direction. I’m deeply grateful for the experience and to the Yawanan shamans. If ayahuasca is calling you, prepare with intention, show up humble and stay curious. Remember the work doesn’t end after the ceremony, that's where it really begins.