The Purge Continues…

[To recap, it’s April 2019 and I am in Vilcabamba, Ecuador on a 12 day, seven journey retreat with Ayahuasca and San Pedro (mescaline).]

After a pretty wild night with my first Ayahuasca journey, I slept fitfully, if at all. I went to the bathroom to poop at least six times. She’s a real roto-rooter, that Grandmother! Hooooo wee! The next day, I felt as if a train hit me. I had a splitting headache and was definitely ready for some food. The fresh fruit was excellent. I spent most of the day laying about in a hammock and did some writing in my journal. I found out the name of woman who was with me on the journey, was actually “Judit”. I kept calling out to “Bridget”, much to the confusion of Miguel, the shaman.

Once again, we neither ate nor drank after about 1:00 in the afternoon. At around 9:00pm it was time to assemble in the little chapel for another bout with the Jungle Juice. I brought my assortment of rocks/crystals and settled in on my mat (with the infamous comforter from 1982). Miguel did the preliminaries and it was time to drink the Aya tea. It did not go down easily, I’ll tell ya. Somewhat chastened by the effects of three portions the night before, I kept it to two this time.

Things moved a bit more linearly. Miguel sang the magical “purging” icaro (sacred song) and I vomited profusely into my obligatory bucket before going off and merging with the Universe. It was a similar journey as the first - highly somatic with bouts of crying - with one difference – I began laughing uncontrollably. I have no idea what even started it; perhaps the realization of ludicrous nature of life itself? I laughed hysterically for what seemed like an hour, maybe more (I wasn’t exactly looking at my watch). At one point Miguel suggested, “Matt, the medicine will work better if you are quiet.” This served to… make me laugh even harder. I recalled my brother recently asking me, “When was the last time you had fun?” He was right. There was not much fun in my life. It was nice of Grandmother to provide the chuckles.

The view from my window | Chakapita April 2019

Miguel began creating a lot of smoke in the room. I think he was smoking some kind of cigarettes in addition to burning a bunch of sage and palo santo. Thick smoke filled the air. I was having trouble breathing and suddenly I was transported back to about age eight or nine. I was in Madison, Wisconsin in my mother’s orange VW station wagon (the one without a working heater or defroster; we used to scrape the back window for her). She was a big smoker and it drove me nuts. I wanted so badly for her to quit. We would beg her to stop. She would light up and pop open the little A-pillar triangular window about an inch - as if that were enough to ventilate the car! Years later, I carried the anger over her subjecting me to that smoke. In that moment, lying on a thin foam pad and tripping my ass off, I had a deep realization - those cigarettes were getting her through the days. It was all she had to hold onto. She was barely 30 and had three kids under the age of ten, and was married to an abusive, workaholic, rage-a-holic, heavy drinking husband. I saw how there was no way in hell she was giving up cigarettes. And, in that moment, I forgave her for it.

A bit later I was lying on my back and suddenly I had the sense that a couple of really old memories were leaving my body. While I can’t remember two of the three, I recall one of them very distinctly. When I was 12, Tommy Mattioli, the son of the founder of American TV and Appliance in Madison, locked a combination lock to the belt loop of my brand new “designer” jeans (probably Calvins - they were all the rage in middle school) and took off. I can still picture the field stone wall in front of the neighbor’s house where I was sitting. It probably sounds overwrought, but I was devastated. I had to cut a belt loop to get it off. My clothes literally were the main source of my esteem in those days. That was how I had been programmed by my mother. Appearance was EVERYTHING. And now mine was flawed, when wearing those jeans, at least. Anyway, I had not thought of this incident in at least 40 years and there it was, rustled up by my journey into different dimensions, drifting dreamily off into the ether. Crazy.

When I arrived at Chakapita there was an attractive German girl and a 30-something Indonesian Army vet with pretty severe PTSD working as volunteers at the center. They were traveling the world together and were supposed to work at the center for the duration of my retreat, cooking and cleaning. After having a rather impromptu, powerful and slightly traumatic huilka session (huilka is a seed containing DMT that is cooked, crushed into a powder and insufflated - snorted) with Miguel, the young woman decided she needed to be back in Germany and they departed the next day.

There’s a joke in there somewhere. | Chakapita April 2019

After a day off, the third journey took place outside on the ground, a bit earlier in the evening than the first two. Again, we fasted for most of the day. It was also a different strain of Aya - called “Cielo”. The effects came on strong and fast. I experienced wild visuals and more body movement. I became the bushes, the bugs, the sky. At one point I had the very distinct sensation that somebody (Grandmother?) was taking me apart and examining me. It was as if she pulled my arm off and looked around to see what needed fixing before moving to another part of me. Fortunately, it didn’t hurt! I had begun the evening with pressure in my “root” chakra, which is at the base of the spine. This got worse as the evening progressed. I had huge tremors pulse through my right leg and it seemed to take a long time to purge (vomit). Once I did, it was quite violent but didn’t produce much material. There was a lot of involuntary back-arching and tongue-flicking, as if a serpent had taken over my body (which, to be fair, it sort of did). This was the Kundalini energy coming up from the base of my spine and manifesting. It was wild!

At some point it occurred to me that perhaps I had to pee or poop. I was on all fours, like an animal. Miguel helped me to the bathroom. It was slightly fancier than an outhouse and hadn’t likely been visited by a maid… ever. As I sat there, I really felt like I had to poop, yet I couldn’t. I was pushing, twisting, grunting and hallucinating heavily. I was really nauseous. It was distinctly not fun. I grabbed a bucket from the shower. I felt as though I was cut off from everything. There were noises coming from outside the door that sounded like a cricket chirping. The sound sliced right into me at the core of where it hurt. Periodically Miguel would begin beating on the drum in an effort to help me move the energy (and my bowels). As it turned out, the noise was the chain of the hammock as he swung back and forth. That sound will forever haunt me.

I began to violently dry heave. No BM was forthcoming, no matter how hard I pushed. At one point, I coughed up something solid and nasty; I don’t even want to know what it was. I don’t know what it feels like to die, but this had to be on the spectrum. I was absolutely miserable. I was sitting on a toilet in a brick latrine at 7,000 ft above sea level in the Andes, folded forward on a plastic barf bucket that I would periodically slip off. And I was tripping hard on Ayahuasca and constipated - leave it to me. All I wanted was to feel connected - to something or someone. Finally, I surrendered. I pulled my pants up, lay down on the dirty floor and gave up.

Futball is life!

After laying there for I don’t know how long, Miguel helped me back to the site. I was absolutely freezing (I learned later that “cold is old” energy that is leaving the body). Things were better by the fire. I was shaking like a leaf but managed to get warm under the blankets they put on me. After some really X-rated visions of past girlfriends, I progressed into the beautiful part of the journey. The tree branches above felt like the arms of Pachamama embracing me. I began to sing; not words, just sounds. Beautiful sounds emanated from deep inside my body. It did not feel like it was my voice. This was quite strange because I’m not exactly known to have a melodic singing voice. I began seeing visions of spirits in the smoke.

To me, the metaphors for the evening were several - my connection to the Earth (root chakra) was blocked and I was doing the blocking at some level. The present moment can be VERY difficult if you don’t accept it. I must learn to accept the bad with the good.

I barely slept that night. At 1am I had a massive poop - thank goodness! For some reason I suddenly didn’t like the darkness and so turned the light on. Tons of vibrations thrummed throughout my body as I moved in and out of light sleep. I felt like the San Andreas Fault Line. The next day, my chest was constricted and I had the urge to run.

That afternoon a new volunteer showed up with Miguel - a beautiful woman in her mid 20s from Canada. I’ll refer to her as “P”. I heard them arrive around 3:00 or 4:00 in the afternoon and dragged myself off the hammock to say hello. We ended up standing on the lawn and chatting for quite some time. She, too, was traveling the world with basically a duffel bag, volunteering and selling handmade jewelry to support herself. I was nearly twice her age and I was smitten.

That night it was back to the mat - Ayahuasca Journey Nº 4. Once I was able to choke down the brew - this was no small feat of mind over body after the prior night – the fourth journey was not unlike the others. I experienced tremors, spasms and contortions with some visuals. Again, I encountered the sense of sinking into and out of the ground. I was a serpent, tongue flicking, then a a locust or cricket, rubbing my hand against my face as if it were a wing. I was a bush, a tree, a rock. Dark, sensual, sexual energy pervaded my awareness. Shouting crude obscenities, I resembled somebody with Tourette’s having a grand mal seizure.

At one point, I recall lying on my back and flapping my hands like a bird. Then I spontaneously went into a bridge pose with my strange involuntary movements of my mouth, hissing, flicking tongue, spasming legs, arcing neck. Ever seen The Exorcist? I would occasionally disappear into the earth and go completely limp and out of my body. There were spirits dancing in the smoke shadows on the wall. I looked outside, saw the billions of stars in the clouds of the Milky Way. It was so stunningly beautiful and I thought, “We come from this.”

The grounds | Chakapita March 2019

There was more vocalizing on the comedown. Again it didn’t feel like my voice - it came from beyond and was pleasant. The frequencies were beautiful and seemed to resonate with my entire being and heal my body. For all I know, I sounded like a broken asshole, but it sure felt and sounded amazing to me! I’ve always wanted to be able to sing. I saw the inherent nature of the duality we live in - black and white are two sides of the same coin. Another lesson I got was not to deny my darker, shadow side. It is just as much a part of me as the light.

Once again, sleep was elusive. As it turned out, when I was standing in the yard barefoot, talking with my new crush for two hours, many small insects were feasting on my ankles. Up until now, I’d barely even seen a bug. Apparently, Ecuador has the equivalent of chiggers who awaken as it gets dark. Who knew? They absolutely ravaged my ankles which added a whole new layer of fun to my post-trip experiences. As I lay there between trips to the bathroom, fading in and out of consciousness with my body violently spasming at random intervals, I was also clawing at my feet and ankles which felt as though they’d spent a day in a mosquito hive. There was a strong undercurrent of energy “thrumming” (pleasantly) through my body in a way that I had never previously experienced. Fun times.

After the fourth journey, I got another day off. I went on a hike along the creek that came down from the mountain with “P”, the Canadian volunteer. I was definitely crushing on her and creating all kinds of scenarios in my Aya-addled brain. My whole body felt alive and vibrating with energy. My heart was wide open. I was in love with the world. We had some great conversations and collected interesting rocks on our walk. She posed for photographs along the river and in the evening light back at the center. I was walking as if floating on a cushion of air.

The fifth and six journeys were more of the same experiences, with one notable occurrence. I felt as though I was being pulled into multiple dimensions at one point. Another time, we were outside and I noticed fireflies pulsing with light. As if in a call and response, lightning flashed in the clouds around distant mountains, followed by the lightning bugs flashing. It would have been amazing sober. In my state it was absolutely, positively fucking magical.

Time for yoga!

At the close of the fifth journey, “P” was walking around the dining area where I was coming down. She was preparing dinner and setting the table. I recall being quite preoccupied with her. I remember reaching and calling out to her. Later she said I was making odd facial expressions and noises. Ya think?

Sandwiched in between the last two Aya journeys was an all day journey with San Pedro, which is a cactus that contains mescaline (similar to Peyote). In contrast to Ayahuasca, Mescaline is a masculine “doing” energy. The plan was to ingest the tea, let it come on and go for a hike. As I sat waiting for the breakfast she was preparing, I could tell that “P’s” energy had shifted. She was extremely curt and distant. Shortly after sitting down next to me, she said, “What you did last night was very disturbing.” “What did I do?” I asked. “You touched my face and arm.” I what??? I was simultaneously shocked and ashamed. It felt as though somebody punched me in the solar plexus; my breath rushed from my body. What had I done? I didn’t really know. But she certainly wasn’t happy about it. All I can figure is that I was bleeding sexual energy from the trip and my heart was wide open. I know she suffered some terrible things at the hands of her old male relatives as a child. I’m guessing I brought up some very disturbing memories. I was absolutely gutted at the thought that I had somehow crossed a line and upset her. I didn’t know what to say. I ate my breakfast in silence (unlike with Aya, you actually want some food in your system with the San Pedro).

We settled down around 9:00am outdoors in an open area where we tripped previously. “P” was journeying with us. It was warmer than any day so far, with open sun warming the dry earth. I drank the tea and laid down to wait for the effects while Miguel beat on his drum, sang and tended to the fire. Very few words were exchanged. I was deeply depressed by what had transpired at breakfast. I felt a lot of shame. As I lay there, not much happened. I began to feel very stuck. It’s difficult to describe the feeling. I was deeply disturbed and very sad but I couldn’t cry. I didn’t know what to say to “P” and figured it was best to say nothing. Time then appeared to stop. It was as if a state of suspended animation had slowly descended upon me. I wasn’t tripping. I wasn’t NOT tripping. I was in between - the Bardo - and it was not pleasant. The sun began beating down and I had enough sense to worry about getting burned. It was winter in Chicago and I hadn’t had any sun on my body for months. I put my hat over my face. Bleh. I don’t know how many hours I lay there; it felt like a lifetime. As I reflect, I realize I felt as though I had been yelled at by my parents for doing something that I legitimately thought was fine. At one point I got up and went into my room and listened to The Wall (I was looking for that magic that I found on my first mushroom trip).

Heart of Pachamama from the fire during the San Pedro ceremony | Chakapita April 2019

After the album finished, I laid there and it hit me. I was fucking LONELY. Really lonely. Despondent at the depth of my loneliness. I had been making noises over the past several months about how I wasn’t lonely, I was just alone. And I was FINE. I now saw that was a lie. The loneliness was an abyss and I was descending into it. Heavy stuff. I returned to the site and sat down. I turned to “P” and said, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize how lonely I was.” and I began to sob. It’s amazing how we can keep emotions hidden from ourselves in plain site. I vomited into the garden a bit later.

Things began improving after that. If you call tripping your balls off an improvement. Somehow she and I cooked lunch/dinner without slicing off a digit or burning the place to the ground. Life became magical again. When it got dark, we decamped to Miguel’s house, up the mountain a bit. He got out a Bluetooth speaker and we played music and “danced” under the stars in the shadow of the Andes until well after midnight.

There was one final Aya journey that was not particularly eventful and I departed the day after. I met back up with my daughter and we traveled to Quito together where we spent a day with a driver taking in everything from volcanos to the leather shops of Cotacachi. Life was good.

Deep meditation on the equator after the Aya retreat. | Cayambe, Ecuador, April 2019

A couple weeks after returning home, I was walking to my car after an integration session with my therapist. (Integration is absolutely critical to this work.) If you recall, I had frozen shoulder the prior summer and fall. The MDMA journey in November had enabled my inner healing intelligence to remove the pain and some of the motion restriction. The Aya journeys had magically given me additional (but not full) range of motion. As I was walking down the street, I began having a strange feeling. Something was coming up. Something big. I got to my car and began driving home. A wiser man would have just sat with it in the car for a minute. I was not yet wise. As a result, I had to pull over in traffic and call my therapist. The realization hit me with the force of a damn breaking - the frozen shoulder was the result of buried emotion caused by the trauma of getting spanked as a child. My father would lift me by the left arm and swat my butt. I don’t know exactly what was said in the session that brought it up, but man did it feel good to purge that boulder. As a bonus, I got even more range of motion. The body really does keep the score.