It’s not you,
It’s me.

It’s my need to wrap your words around your neck.
To squeeze so tight
That all you have breath left for is to say
“you’re right.”

Because I am
And you know I am
And it shouldn’t be this way.

You carve me a picture of your love
And I run my fingers over the grooves
Thinking nothing of the splinters that stick me.

Don’t paint me another portrait with no likeness to reality
Admit it.

Pictures and sculptures are all we have.
Beautiful idols that take the place of what isn’t there.

every day (like beautiful shells
upon a deserted beach) collects,
like the scum on the shoreline, a repeatedly squeezed
sponge (like that),
reminds her of (like a clenched fist)
me in the way,
me who (in the ruddy mist
of sunset) scrawls in the sand with a stone
pledge to only cherish
me, a shoreline cog of an island coast
can bring those shells to me (said she),
her downcast lashes ordain (and thunder claps
like toddlers clap),
yet as the tides foam and clean (castles collapse)
the shells he sees them
pure like a baby,
his curiosity bubbles
foaming at his lips,
and she will never welcome them,
she will never welcome again
 his lips,
and his stone is cast amongst the shells
upon his deserted beach (like one for every day)
and though now they are clean
they will never wash away.

Part 2

I wake to the sounds of the jungle in the morning. The most bizarre bird sounds I have ever heard. A fresh fruit salad and warm herbal tea is waiting for me next to my bed. I guess the waiter must have snuck in this morning. I was dead to the world. I must admit I am feeling pretty fresh, awake and aware, considering last night. There is no drug or alcohol like hangover with Ayahuasca. I do feel a bit tired of course but I’d feel like that normally if I went to sleep at two in the morning. Sleep doesn’t come till about 2 or 3 am but it depends on how much you consume. The ceremony starts at 7:30pm and is over in about three hours. You are in bed by 11pm but you need the time to process the message and the healing.

I check my face in the morning mirror, just to see if I really am here. My eyes are glowing a dark bright green. Breakfast is soup and eggs and fresh juice. The Russians are here. They seem as quiet as I do. I don’t really feel like talking that much. They let Scott know that their interpreter is sleeping in so there will be no questions this morning. He looks relieved. I was a bit disappointed; it is good to learn from other people’s curiosity.

Scott suggests to Brett and I that a kayak paddle up the river before lunch would be pretty cool. I couldn’t think of anything better. As we carry the one-man kayaks down to the river, Brett asked Teddy, our guide for the day, if there are any crocodiles and anacondas? Brett seems scared and was asking me about how I deal with the bush at night. I am feeling pretty peaceful. Not a worry in my mind. I don’t have any problem with the bush. I ask him what he is talking about. He refers to the guns going off and the potential that we are alone out here. I guess that is true but I don’t feel like this is a dangerous place. It feels pretty safe to me. Scott seems pretty switched on and I am sure it is all “just in case.” I was scared of the bush as a kid. Just because I grew up in it didn’t mean I wasn’t afraid of it. I have a healthy respect for the bush. It is scary; the stillness of the trees, the silence, the shadows, the bitty things and the bending of light. So, one day I decided not to be scared and I took the dog and went for a midnight walk, on Friday the 13th. I made it back home safe and sound. Not a vampire, werewolf, gremlin, murderer nor kidnapper to be seen the whole night.

The paddle is against the tide so we know the ride back will be a cruise. Great eagles soar overhead. I haven’t paddled a kayak in a long time, so it takes some time getting used to the mechanics of it. I keep splashing myself every time I use my left arm. Maybe my old broken shoulder has made me unco. I laugh out loud. There are some beautiful trees growing in the water that have many yellow berries on them. Every time we pass one, Teddy, the guide, hits the tree with his paddle causing an avalanche of berries to splash into the water, I can only guess he is helping propagate the species. We paddle for quite some time up the river. The river is swollen, and teddy says it is only going to get bigger. Teddy is our guide because he knows the passage through the jungle into the hidden lake. He finds the small hole in the bush and encourages us to paddle through the ferns, trees and stinging spiky plants. We are cruising through a forest of trees while we float on the water; it is pretty surreal.

Teddy points to the sky. I could feel the drop in the temperature. The sound of the rain is like an army marching towards us. Something big is coming, so I guess I better embrace it. The first drops hit the canopy above us as we glide underneath. Then it pours. The sound is amazing, finally the rain punches through our foliage umbrella. The rain is so heavy. I love it. I am soaked. The lake is massive. Big lily pads float on top waiting for the time to display their flowers. Teddy smiles and suggests we paddle for home. It is a slow paddle home. Good time to soak in the sights while being soaked ourselves…

Lunch is fresh clean and delicious. Scott has two parrots that hang out in the food hall. One is a macaw and the other is a green parrot. There are also some little black monkeys chilling in the roof, but they are not as game or as pushy as the parrots. The green one has taken some kind of a liking to me and has followed me to my hammock and back to the table. He still tries to bite everyone, including myself, but is pretty content to hang by my shoulder. He is an angry little fellow and I think he is constantly bullied by the macaw. The macaw likes to chew on peoples’ shoes and has destroyed the Russian interpreter’s fancy sandal things.

“How was the paddle?”

“We got soaked. It was great.”

“Maybe tomorrow you could leave a bit earlier. Are you going to have a rest before tonight?”

“For sure.”

I could dig this kind of life. I rest a bit, read and write in my journal. Eventually I fall asleep. My alarm jolts me back to this world; it’s time to get prepared for tonight young man. So I do my Chi Kung and meditation.

Boots on, this time I am bringing Mosquito repellent, and some toilet paper in case I have to blow my nose, torch working, let’s go.

The spirit house is full. It is the Russians’ final night, so Scott suggests that they do a milder dose as everyone is travelling tomorrow. Some people take his advice but many don’t.

Brett and I find the same position as last night.

“Kamahl.”

Up I go again and sit near Scott.

“How much would you like tonight mate?”

“A little more tonight.”

“Ok then.”

He pours. I say my prayer. I gulp, then sip coffee, then sip water, say thanks and get ready.

Waiting in the dark. I am getting used to this. The shamans start singing. Beautiful haunting sounds and the bubbles appear. I remember this, it wasn’t a figment of my imagination, last night actually happened.

So many spirits again… just hanging out around me. I shut my eyes and the patterns start. Ayahuasca has its own shapes, like a traditional pattern. No matter who you are the Ayahuasca will show you this pattern or a variation of it. It is pretty bizarre. {In Iquitos you can buy material with this design weaved in. (I found one that was similar to a moment I had.)} The patterns are pretty mind blowing and I find myself saying that I wish I could draw. So many butterfly shapes. (I think ‘The butterfly’ represents the opening of the soul.) I lie down to watch, to take it all in. I may as well because I am definitely here for the ride. I open my eyes and there are spirits hanging down from the ceiling with their arms out. They cover my stomach with their hands, I just let them do it. It looks like they are performing a massage or some kind of Reiki.

My mind starts blah blahing again.

“God, I wish you would shut up.”

So, I focus back on the spirits again. There is a man and woman working on my stomach. There are spirits all around trying to get my attention or doing their own thing, but I am focusing on these ones because they are so close to me. Then something weird happens and my stomach actually moves, untwists and is shifted. It was quite a shock for me to watch/feel this and then out of nowhere something inside me on my right moves up towards my rib cage.

“OK, fix me if you want.”

I just laid back and watched. The singing gets louder. I shut my eyes. So many visions of fractals and colour. Too many. I wish I knew what it meant, what the significance of them are?

My eyes are becoming heavier. I am in the trance. I sit up. I am breathing really deeply. Not gasping for air like I am drowning but trying to suck in as much as I can, trying to get it deep into my stomach. I understand it is vital for me. I fall back again onto the mattress. Now I am in a foetal position. Trying to get air. It is like I am being reborn. I roll on my back. The spirits are working my stomach. I give in. I start pushing whatever it is out of me. They guide my hands to my stomach. I follow them. Gasping, I sit up. I feel like vomiting, but I am holding it in. I don’t want to vomit. A spirit comes right in front of my face. Nose to nose. I think I saw him smiling at my reaction. I moved my head back in shock. Not with fear but just surprise. It kind of smiled too. I guess he wants my attention. Well he has got it. He looks at me and grasps his arms with both hands. (Kind of like the bra boy handshake.) He looks at me and does it a few times. So, I do it. He nods. OK? Here comes the lesson…

Remember who you are!

“Fuck, who am I or who was I?” I had to ask.

The scene opens in front of me, in front of my open eyes. I am sitting in a circle of big men. (Like really big guys.) I am surrounded by big spirits, big men. Kings, warriors, Chiefs, Maoris, Indians, giants.

I am sitting in the circle with them. They are locking their arms with each other creating a circle around me. I don’t know if I am the centre of their attention but it feels like it. It feels like I am in some kind of room with them. It feels free, like in a tent or around a fire. I am not focusing on where I am but just at the energetic size and strength of these men. Just massive. Massive is the only word I can use to describe it. I feel my body expand. I place my hand on my thighs and I am breathing deeply, sitting, looking around at all these massive guys. They are all looking at me and you know what, Man do they love me. The feeling of honour respect and love is overwhelming. I am not talking about family love or mother love or feminine love, I am talking about Man love. Something I think women don’t really understand because men never talk about it. We don’t need to talk about it because we know it is there. And it is in this room and it’s directed at me. Remember who you are!

YOU SIT WITH BIG SPIRITS COMFORTABLY. KINGS, CHIEFS, AND WARRIORS

And they love you. I am breathing deeply. Sucking in the air.

YOU HAVE BEEN RECOGNISED

I can’t believe it. I am smiling and a tear is pouring from my right eye. “Finally,” I think. This is huge! These dudes have got my back. Massive! There is the sound of a knock behind me and I turn from the men to face it. The scene in front of me has faded away. I look and I am surrounded by sassy jungle women, all fresh and naughty. They are standing in a line at least three deep. Just looking at me. There are some in the group whose energy doesn’t feel great and I think one woman at the end of the line was ‘death’, but I didn’t need to focus on her. Two women took my interest because they were hiding in the back; I felt that they were important. I sat there for a little time and I asked if they had anything for me, and if not, I was going back to be with the men. They didn’t, so I turned around and faced the centre of the spirit house. The men had left and I sat there gasping. I have been initiated at the highest level.

“Thank you Ayahuasca.”

“You have earned it.”

Scott strides over to the candles. They crackle as they come to life. There is a big exhalation of breath by all three shamans and you know the ceremony is over. But it isn’t over for me. Scott hugs me. I am glad to hug him.

“I think that went really well for you tonight.”

“That was massive.”

I am still trying to breathe and smiling at the same time. I sit down on the bench trying to put on my gumboots. My head is swaying. I am trying to listen to everyone chatting, but it is in Russian and English and I don’t know what is going on. The words seem to blend and I think I can actually understand the Russian, but I think I am actually out of it.

I have to vomit. There is no denying it now.

Every time I shut my eyes the spirits are there, rushing at my face. These mandalas are flying at me, silver shapes of spades with triangles and rectangles intersecting each other. I grab the bucket and look down. Out it comes. “La Purga.” It is violent and explosive. It is a shock. I feel good. Bang again. What a sound. No time for embarrassment. Are they even watching?
I am in a state. I’ve been drunk like this before; I know how to handle myself in this position. Head held low; again and again. I feel hard things come out of my mouth. Gross!

“You alright?”

“I am now.”

“It looked like you were throwing up a lot of anger.”

“Yeah.”

I don’t want to talk; I just want to walk. Come on let’s get out of here. I am keen to walk and get moving.

Coming down the steps, is a tricky adventure. The moon is shining, but not full yet. I stride. I feel big. It is a long walk and I trip on the exposed roots of the trees but I don’t care. Remember who you are.

…

I wake to the jungle and the fresh fruit and tea. Breakfast is at 10:30am so there is no rush to get up in the morning and that is a good thing, as it is difficult to sleep. I spent a bit of last night on the toilet before bed, it’s probably the only side effect from the experience.

Ayahuasca is not like taking drugs. There is no shitty feeling in the morning, no chemical attack on your brain or in your system. Ayahuasca works on repairing the nervous system. (Probably to help you deal with the intensity of the healing.) It flushes out the liver and kidneys and can work to restore chemical imbalances. It is a popular treatment for cocaine and heroin addiction in South America and has been known to show results after one or two sessions. Ayahuasca is a force not to be disrespected. The fact that the ceremony is over in three hours means at some level if you go into a dark place you know it will be over, not like the horror stories I have heard about acid, where bad trips have gone on for ten to twelve hours.

My bedroom floor looks like a bombshell. Gumboots strewn across the floor and slightly damp socks everywhere. I like to get it all off before bed.

Over breakfast Brett and I decide to go to a local village by motorboat. Brett is on the hunt for coconuts. He is a raw vegan and obsessed about food. I am willing to have a discussion with him but I don’t agree with his ideas. I think eat whatever works for you. And a slab of meat works for me in more ways than one.

We enter the Amazon River on a small canoe like boat, which seems barely able to hold us. Brett is a big guy and I am still sporting the video editor’s body. I wonder how long it will be before the river and us have become one. We are on a small engine attached to a long shaft and propeller at the back of the boat. Our guide ‘Teddy’ is revving her gently. I ride the helm. The water splashes me and we putt up the river. Beautiful trees and plants line the edges, birds soar in the sky riding invisible thermals. The river is swollen dark brown. The village is simple and has the smell of cattle grass and mud. It reminds me of my time tromping around the cattle fields in Burringbar when I was growing up as a kid. A beautiful butterfly painted in colours and shapes I have never seen before sits on a lonely muddy shoe as we walk past. A herd of water buffalos are lounging in the river undisturbed by our presence. We find the coconut man and drink fresh milk and eat the meat from the nut. Brett buys a bag full and after a short moment of contemplation, and pig watching, we say thanks and make our way back to the refuge.

It is lunchtime when we arrive. The Russians left this morning after breakfast. Peaceful. Fish, rice, and beans. Juice and tea always at the ready. I wonder if the fish is from the piranha family, as most of the fish seem to be.

We sit in the hammocks looking at the jungle, chatting with Scott about everything. A hawk lands in a tree then silently propels itself into the jungle, disappearing forever.

We take it easy this afternoon. I am reading about shamans through time from Scott’s amazing library. I wish I had more time here, but the cost is a bit too much for me while I am in a backpacker’s travelling mind set. (But I can see myself coming back and doing ten days or a month and making a point of the trip.)

I spend the afternoon asleep and wake at about 7pm. I don’t bother with my Chi Kung or my meditation. (Something that I will regret in about an hour.)

The spirit house has a different feeling to it. No group of women there to meet us. It is just me, Brett, and a man named Roy. We sit in the dark waiting for Scott and the two jungle shamans to come. Roy is from England and has been here for nearly a month. I think this session is his 21st on Ayahuasca. He said the turning point in his life was smoking Salvador, a very strong hallucinogenic plant. Basically, it broke him down into atoms, showed him the universe and then rebuilt him. After that he couldn’t live the life he was living in England with drunk, mindless, racists friends complaining about this and that. To them “everyone is a Paki or a cunt.”
He had to leave and he found his way to Scott. He has a good handle on his Ayahuasca experiences and is working on going through all the planes of consciousness. Though if you saw this guy on the street you would not think he was this kind of person at all. He is very unassuming.

The torchlight breaks through the darkness and Scott and the shamans arrive.

“Well this should be different without all those women.”

Scott goes through the ceremony of preparation. I’m the last to receive my drink.

“Let’s up the ante tonight.”

“Ok.”

The pour seems to go on for ages it looks like nearly a full cup. I say my prayer.

“Dear Ayahuasca be firm but compassionate.”

“Salute.”

I need two gulps. Man I can taste it tonight. I need some extra water. I sit down and then I have to lie down. It comes on quick, especially with the singing. Every time the shaman to the right sings it rips right through me, there is something in the tone of the feeling of his song.

The room fills up with bubbles and my body explodes. Oh shit, this is too much. I get the fear and the panic and I let my mind run the show. My bitch and traitorous mind. I can’t believe the crap it is saying, I can’t believe how in this time of weakness it is turning on me. Like a spoiled child it knows that what I am doing is basically trying to destroy its control, the ego, as it
says in a new earth, ‘the ego fights hard when it knows you are trying to kill it.’

“When is this going to end? This is the devil’s work!”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Don’t focus on evil. When have I ever believed in the devil? Breathe man, listen to the music, that is what it is here for.

“When will this end? I want it to end?”

“It won’t end for hours, so shut the fuck up. You don’t run me.”

“Yes I do, I can do whatever I want to you, I can give you pain if I want. I can make you mad, I can make you sad. I control you.”

“You can’t do shit, shut up, shut the fuck up.”

I sit up. I have to. I look at the door and consider running away. But to where? Get a grip mate. The room is spinning, the music is all around me.

“Oh man I have fucked up tonight.”

“Yeah you didn’t prepare. You should have meditated and done your Chi Kung.”

“No, you think? Shut up you little bitch.”

“But you didn’t because you are lazy.”

“Shut up.”

My stomach comes to the rescue. God bless you stomach. Where is that bucket? I vomit like there is no tomorrow. (Because basically at this point in time, there isn’t.) Purge it out. I think Brett is throwing up a lung as well, but I can only focus on hoping that my aim is more forgiving than my mind. The intensity of the feeling is brought down a few notches like turning down a stereo in the middle of a party. The energy level has sunk to a dull roar.

“Ok, I know this feeling, I have been here before. I can do this.”

I lie down waiting for it to end. Is it me, or does the singing seem more intense tonight? I am looking at the ceiling; I don’t see too many spirits tonight. Just bubbles everywhere. Scott comes over and breathes over me. The smell of the perfume is calming. He draws a big cross over my heart and pushes down the front of my stomach. Oh, now I am feeling calm. I am not alone in here. Thank God. Lesson coming:

WE ARE ALL CONNECTED.

“It this my lesson for tonight?”

“Yes it is.”

“Is this all I am going to get.”

“Yes.”

I have heard this so many times growing up in Byron Bay. I am feeling a bit cynical and in a mood. I am almost pissed off and then, Boom, it starts. I am everything and I see everything; like a million charts of all the things alive on this earth. You know when you see a chart at the fish shop, and it has all the fish on it with all their names (scientific and general). Well, multiply that by a million, everything from those weird prehistoric bugs in the water to mammals in the African savannah. Too much information, I can’t process this even if I tried. I would like to learn how to access it and slow it down.

“You wanted it, well here it is buddy.”

I think of my camels, I see Paratapur and Umpa in the distance. A voice says “There they are, do you really want to annoy them again and dwell in the past. Leave them be.”

“Ok” (I had let them go in another healing, mainly because of the guilt I had felt about their death and suffering.)

The images of animals start again. Water, the matter of the universe, everything is all flying along until suddenly in a section it slows down and a herd of horses come into view. They see me. Their eyes are full and bright and their ears are pointing forward, toward me. A big grey mare presents herself. I think she is like a draft horse, has a kind of spotted shape on her rear. She is calm and beautiful. Next lesson coming:

THE ANIMALS SEE YOU.

Because you see them.

“Cool.”

The spirits are back and so are the shapes and the fractals. More zooming through time and dimensions that I don’t have names for. I am getting back into the swing of it.

To explain the image in front of my eyes, well, it is like a DVD motion menu. The whole image in front of you is divided into sections. In the front there are the horses, to the left and right are two slices, which are full of spirits floating and pointing at me. Underneath from the left to right of the screen are colours and patterns. You can focus on whichever part you want, but it doesn’t seem to slow down for me.

Suddenly from the horizon, in place of the horses, a beautiful golden temple presents itself to me. The spirits are still doing their thing. The temple is massive and has Ganesh like images on the front. It has a huge staircase leading up towards the door. I try to go in, but I can’t. The spirits are on either side and more shapes and images of train stations and buildings are in the frame. Too many scenes. Sometimes I wish I could just choose one. When I focus on one it zooms right in almost like the magnifier tool in Photoshop. Too close. The temple opens up and I see a great pyramid of almost American looking currency; stacks of money. I see the great pyramids and I see the eye. Next lesson:

YOU HAVE ACCESS TO THE GREATEST WEALTH.

I feel this means much more than physical cash; I have access inside me, to all things. I am ‘One’ who is connected to all things.

THERE IS NO SUCCESS WITHOUT SPIRIT.

I am lying down again and Scott comes over and breathes on me. I feel the breath putting me back into the mattress. Then he points to my third eye and places his finger on it. I am pinned to the floor. It is like a huge mountain has been placed on my forehead. I feel my third eye open and the image of an amazing silver mandala comes to the forefront of my vision and stays with me throughout the whole night. It covers every other dream or vision that is going through my mind. God, I wish I could draw.

The big exhale fills the room and the candles are lit. The ceremony is finished and not a moment too soon. I try to stand but I am all over the place. The shamans come for a hug.

Scott asks, “How was that?”

“I don’t know.”

I’ve got my boots on and I want to get out of there. I am in hunting mode for some reason. Scott holds us back with his calmness.

“How about we all leave together? We will walk you back to your room.” He sits for a while, packing up. It seems to take ages.

“Water please, Scott.” I am pacing like a beast. Got to run, got to go. I am relieved when I hear the stomping of his boots on the wooden floor. I peel my face out of my hands.

The walk back is a relief. Going back to what I know. The creaking wooden floor of our hut, the way the candlelight bounces off the wall with a light red and orange hue and the soft white cave in which I will lay my head.

I have to go to the toilet; like serious toilet time. Sitting on the bowl, I have to laugh. Ayahuasca makes you earn it. These lessons don’t come for free and you have to have a serious and focused approach. It is not to be disrespected.

It was a night of revelation and overwhelming information. It really did show who my natural enemy is… my ego and its friend, ‘the mind.’

I think many people don’t live a life where they have to push themselves for these revelations, like relying on your intuition for example. My life seems to be a construct of these moments with large rest periods in between.

Some people’s lives are safe and cushy and don’t push the boundaries of existence. There are no lessons with safety, and tonight I was right out of my comfort zone. It was good, like the first time I went to India, and the second time when I was on the camel odyssey. Forcing myself to trust myself and not always follow the safe and crippling advice that the ego and mind have to offer. I don’t want to be ignorant. I don’t want to be frightened of the unexplainable, the unknown, or the unexplored.

…

At breakfast I am a bit spaced out. Scott joins Brett and I while we are slurping down our soup.

“How was it last night for you Kamahl?”

“It was shit.”

“You were consumed with the darkness?”

“Yeah. My mind attacked me. It said dumb things like: this is the devil’s work, and shamans are stupid.”

Scott laughs. “Yeah it will do that. You just have to agree with it. Say ‘yeah me and the devil are tight. Same with me and God.’ We are all in this together. It is all one.”

“I told it to shut up.”

“Yeah, well that is its job, to try and stay alive. Laughter is better, laughing at it is the way to go. Or come back to the music.”

“I felt better after I threw up. But I didn’t do my preparation and it spanked me.”

“Well you have tonight off so rest up today. I’m off to Iquitos and will be back for your ceremony tomorrow night.”

I had so many spirits on the first and second night. The second night was the best.

“The spirits that are floating in the room are benevolent beings who are just as interested in you as you are in them.”

I tell Scott of my time with the Great Chiefs and he seems quite humbled and a sense of reverence washes over him.

“That is beautiful.”

For a second he loses his ‘character.’ It is a nice moment as I am sure he has heard and seen it all, but he pays the respect to my experience.

I spent the day sleeping and reading. The jungle was consumed by torrential rain. Which is a beautiful and relaxing way to rest. I love the sound of rain on the roof and in the trees.