YANAPUMA
An Evening with a Shaman
By Carlos Tanner

written in Fall of 2003

I. Amazon Fantasy

"You nervous?"

"I'm totally nervous. I think this is gonna be a really big night."

"Yeah, I think you're right."

I put my arm around Lydia as we walked down the dirt road to Don Juan's house. I was so thankful to be with her. If it wasn't for Lydia, I would've been back in Massachusetts struggling to feel any satisfaction in life. She was my motivation to come down here and make my greatest fantasy a reality.

"I can't believe the stars here," I said as I leaned back to gaze up at a gorgeous amazon sky. It was 8:15 and a half moon was rising over the distant jungle skyline.

"Pretty crazy, huh?"

They were amazing; more stars than I had ever seen in my entire life. The milky way actually looked milky, and the millions of glowing dots filled the sky completely, right down to the horizon. I looked up in awe. I was really here. I was really doing this. I felt so many emotions. They seemed to change with each step I took closer to Juan's house. I thought about how long I had dreamed of coming to the Amazon; how many times I had pictured myself in the jungle with the plants. I felt a surge of excitement as I realized that this dream was now real. Every aspect of the dream was coming together as well, for I was now about to meet with a shaman and drink ayahuasca.

I began to get quite nervous at the thought of drinking ayahuasca. I had drank the ancient psychotropic brew once before, just a week earlier with a shaman in Pucullpa, a city on the edge of the Peruvian rainforest. It was a very pleasant time for me, similar to a good mushroom trip. I felt that tonight wasn't going to be so pleasant. Somehow I knew that this was going to be a much more powerful experience. We walked past a man with a guitar, playing and singing by a pole on the side of the road. As we passed, he stopped to say, "Eh, gringo!" I waved but no one spoke. I didn't mind at all. I had a lot more on my mind.

I had read many articles about ayahuasca and had come to Peru with certain expectations about what I would see and feel when I drank it. In Pucallpa, I had not fulfilled those expectations. While I did hallucinate and at one point had what I would call a "vision" of children running and playing with me, saying 'Como se dise?' but I did not encounter what I considered to be spirits. In several of the articles I had read, the authors had mentioned that it had taken them several tries before they found a truly wise shaman with powerful ayahuasca. For me, I had found him on my second try, here in a village called San Juan, near Iquitos.

His name was Don Juan Tangoa Paima, and he'd been drinking ayahuasca for over forty years. I came to know of him through Lydia, who had been told by two friends from Iquitos who had been drinking ayahuasca with him for eight months. She emailed me in Massachusetts and told me that I should think about coming down to Peru because she knew of a shaman who came highly recommended by her friends. She knew I wanted to study with a true shaman more than anything. I booked my flight a few days after I got the email.

I had not met Juan yet but already I felt confident that he was a powerful man. I had spoken with Lydia's friends and they had assured me that I would not be disappointed. Somehow, I trusted him already. My trip so far had been nothing less than spectacular, so why shouldn't things continue in that fashion? Deep down inside, I knew that tonight would be a night that would change my life forever. At this point in my life, I was ready for that change.

As we walked, we didn't talk much. I began to say prayers inside my head. I prayed that my experience be filled with wisdom and that I may be healed of the stomach problem I had had for three years now. Tonight was my night to stand up and be a man. I prayed for strength. I was mentally preparing myself for the most insane journey of my life. Well... I was trying to, at least. I don't think it's possible to actually prepare for what was about to transpire.

We turned off the dirt road onto a small dead end with only one house. We were here. There were six of us in our group in total: Lydia, who I'd known for many years, four friends she had made while in Peru, and me. We walked quietly through the garden in the front yard up to the door of the house. The house was made of random grey boards. It was more of a large shed. While there was a second floor, there was no roof and few walls. I guess it was more like a shed with a roof deck.

I opened the door and there, sitting right next to the door, was an elderly Peruvian Indian, dressed in the clothing of a local indigenous tribe. His skin was wrinkled and looked like leather. His eyes were deep and wise. I could tell he was a kind man. He smiled as each one of us shook hands with him and said hello. Then we went inside and sat down in plastic chairs. Juan was not there yet, but there were several people already waiting. A young girl, perhaps twelve, and her parents were among the others here to be healed. There were probably twelve of us in total. I shook hands with them all and introduced myself, explaining that I was from the United States and had arrived in Iquitos just one day earlier.

I began to relax my nerves a little as I spoke with the Peruvian locals. Seeing that we were all a bit scared made me feel a lot better. I was also reassured that this shaman was indeed a man of power. Why else would all these people be here? I began to wonder what this man looked like. What would he be wearing? I had read that shamans often wear white and that some have a particular hat or necklace that they wear for protection or to let the spirits know who they are. I could feel my heart pounding. I had waited for this moment for so long, I could hardly believe it was real.

The door of the one room house opened and a young Mestizo walked in carrying a yellow plastic pitcher, which reminded me of making Kool-Aid as a child. Everyone in the room stood up when he entered and very respectively, we each shook his hand and thanked him for allowing us to participate in the ceremony. He smiled a great deal and acted in a very friendly manner. I liked Don Juan already. He set the pitcher down on a shelf and sat down behind a small table. Everyone else sat in a circle around him. As nine o'clock approached, an older woman entered and joined us as well. The ceremony was about to begin.

The flourescent light flickered as Juan spoke, telling us stories and trading jokes. He had a great sense of humor and laughed quite a bit. I could see that everyone here held him in high regard. He was a man with widom in his eyes. He was dressed just like a regular person, without any fancy headress or jewelry. He wore a Banana Republic T-shirt, jeans, and a baseball cap turned backwards. I appreciated the reality of his attire. I felt that by dressing like us he was being completely real, instead of trying to put himself above us. I liked that. Now I was really loosening up. "This could be fun," I thought.

Not quite.

After a few more minutes of small talk, Juan began to talk about Ayahuasca. He told us that ayahuasca is a medicine that had been used for thousands of years, that it was not a drug but an ancient medicine. He stressed the importance of drinking Ayahuasca for the right reason, to be healed. He told us that there were two different types of shamans, healers and sorcerers. Juan said that seventy percent of Ayahuasca is good and thirty percent of it is evil. Sorcerers use the thirty percent of evil and healers use the seventy percent that is good. He spoke in spanish but one of Lydia's friends, Roman, translated for me. My spanish was poor at best.

"In two years, you could learn to master the evil energies of ayahuasca and become a sorcerer, but to master the powers of good takes a lifetime of study." Juan had studied the science of plants, as he called it, for over forty years. He admitted that he was still learning, commenting that he had just opened the door to the science a crack, but that a whole universe of learning still lay ahead of him. His words rang with honesty and humility and my faith in him increased greatly as he spoke. He was a curandero, a healer. I pondered the idea that the Don Juan I had read so much about in Castenada's books was not a curandero. He was a brujo, a sorcerer. He never healed a single person. He was using the dark energies for his own ends.

"With the powers I possess, I could make any person very sick. I could kill them if I wanted to, but this kind of action is worthless to me. It helps no one. It just causes more problems." I believed him. He cared about humankind and he had a general desire to help people. He was a powerful person but used his power carefully and consciously. His eyes sparkled as he spoke and the flourescent light seemed dim compared to the glow of his personality. Everyone watched him intently as he talked. He was our guide for the evening, our protector. I felt safe already.

Juan continued to speak as he lit a cigarette. Two other people lit cigarettes as well. He began telling us about his allies, the spirits with which he works. He explained how these spirits look out for him, advise him, and protect him. He sings songs to call on them and they teach him about the science of plants. I gave Juan my complete attention. I had come down to Peru to learn this science. I was here to become a shaman and here was a real shaman in the flesh, right in front of me.

"I do not fear any man, because there is nothing a human being can do to harm me. The only one I fear is God, because only God has the power to destroy me."

Everyone sat quietly as Juan spoke. We all had a great deal of respect for this man. I had already begun to consider the idea of him being my teacher. The dream I had been pursuing was to live in the Rainforest and study with a shaman. I had planned on setting up the student-teacher situation on this trip and then to return for several years, slowing working towards establishing a healing program for my friends and family and our global community. Perhaps Juan was the shaman whose face I could never quite see in my dreams.
"Maybe he'll be my teacher," I thought.

A young Brazilian woman sat on Juan's right, Katarina. She was already a student of Juan and assisted him in the preparation of the ceremony. She had mapacho cigarettes rolled for him and for others and she had cut up some oranges that sat in a bowl on the table in front of Juan. The maestro began preparing us for the ceremony by pointing out the oranges and a roll of toilet paper on his desk. We all got up and took a little toilet paper and put it in our pockets. I hoped I didn't need it; maybe just to blow my nose.

We then were instructed to make a mental picture of the room while the light was on, so that we could navigate our way to the door in the dark. Juan then asked that we leave the house to vomit or to relieve ourselves. We needed to make sure that we could make it to the door in the dark so we could all puke outside. Great. Now I was sure this was going to be a more powerful experience. A chill went up my spine and the hairs on my legs began to stand on end. I rubbed them and wondered if I should've worn pants instead of shorts. I made my mental notes and began another set of prayers. It was two steps forward, a left turn slightly past ninety degrees, and then about seven steps to the door which had a board across it to push it open.
"Please god, the spirit of ayahuasca, I am here to learn. I ask that you teach me your wisdom. Please heal my stomach. I am your humble student. Please go easy on me."

After a few moments of silence, Juan slapped his hands together and stood up. It was on, now. Everyone began to fidget a little, some reaching in their pockets to check their toilet paper supply, others just sitting up a little more at attention. I took a few deep breaths and tried to relax. I was sure I was doing the right thing. The universe had pointed me in this direction and now I was just continuing down the path meant for me. This was another step towards becoming a shaman, a big step... a leap, in fact.

Bring it on.

II. Ceremony

I watched as Juan took the plastic pitcher off the shelf. He quietly brought the pitcher back to his chair and set it down on the table in front of him. He took a rounded shot glass and brought it closer to him, grouping his cigarettes together and placing his hand on his lighter and chakapa. He was preparing for the lights to go off and making sure he had everything. I glanced at the door again and took another deep breath.
"Will I be warm enough?" I wondered. Tension was building in the room and I was getting a bit nervous. Seconds seemed to last for hours. A dog began barking outside and a chorus of other dogs chimed in. I quickly realized that not everyone was spending their evening this way. Most people were out drinking and partying or at home watching TV or listening to the radio. As the barking subsided, Juan picked up a mapacho cigarette and held it up to his lips.

He didn't light it, though. He whistled onto it. We all sat in the thick night air and listened. It was an enjoyable melody and Juan whistled very well. At first, I thought he was playing a reed flute or something. The tension in the room began to recede into the grey boards enclosing us. The maestro was opening the healing circle. I closed my eyes and relaxed into the chair. I could feel the energy in the room clearing up and becoming more comfortable. I smiled for the first time since I had sat down in that plastic chair.
"Thank you," I whispered as I glanced up at the ceiling.

Once he had 'blessed' the cigarette, he lit it and took a few drags, examining us all slowly. I watched as his eyes burned through me. I felt like he was measuring each one of us. He had eyes like a wise old grandfather, full of compassion. Feelings of love and compassion began to grow in me. I was not nervous anymore. Everything was going to be just fine. I looked at Lydia and saw her looking down. I could tell she was nervous as I watched her blow a breath through puffed cheeks.

Juan picked up the pitcher of ayahuasca from the table and leaned over it to blow smoke from his cigarette into the pitcher. He seemed to speak softly into the smoke after he blew it. He was now blessing the ayahuasca with mapacho, tobacco. He took three or four large drags and blew them onto and over the ayahuasca. I watched carefully as he set the pitcher back down. Smoke crept over the edge of the plastic pitcher and slowly drifted down to rest on the table briefly before disappearing like warm breath on a snowy day in New England. It was now close to 9:30 and the evening was just beginning. It would be a long night.

"Lydia?" Juan looked over at my little Italian friend. She was dressed somewhat like a gypsy, with a blue scarf wrapped over her head. Lydia had spent two years in Japan teaching english and now she was travelling through South America before returning home to New Jersey. She didn't have an interest in shamanism the way I did. I think she was just doing it because she knew it would be a positive and interesting experience.

"Si?" She replied, sitting up at attention and pulling the scarf down from her head. She had a child-like innocence that was always refreshing. Even in the dim flourescent lighting of the weather worn house her face was lit in a warm glow. She was the only other American present. I was glad she was here.

Juan asked her a question in spanish and neither she nor I understood what he said. Lydia's friend Roman translated for us.
"He asked if you would like the regular ayahuasca or he has another batch which isn't as strong."

We both looked at each other.
"What do you think?" Lydia asked me. I thought for a moment. Did I really want to drink a different ayahuasca than everyone else?

"What the hell, right?" I said.
"Yeah, what the hell, we'll drink the strong stuff."
Lydia was the shit. She was a true psychonaut, willing to explore the boundaries of her own reality. I respected that because I shared the same attitude.

Juan took the shot glass and filled it about half way with ayahuasca. The stuff that poured from that plastic pitcher looked like battery acid; several different swirls of brown and rust colored liquid. A light yellow foam bubbled to the surface as Juan inspected the glass to make sure it was the correct amount for Lydia. He held the glass out to her and Lydia got up and got it. She took the glass with both hands and held it close to her, looking down on the shamanic concoction. Time seemed to sit still as everyone stared at this little italian gypsy.

Silence.

She took the glass and began to drink. One gulp, then another and it was gone. Lydia gagged a bit and quickly reached for a piece of orange from the bowl on the table. Putting the segment in her mouth, she moaned in relief from the obviously hideous taste of the ayahuasca. She took another piece and went back to her chair. I studied her reactions and mannerisms hoping to get a hint at what was soon to come for me. All I could tell was that the stuff tasted like shit, and I already knew that.

Juan was quick to pour the next glass, this one for the woman who came late. She stood up and took the shot, saying "salud" before putting it down in one gulp. It seemed like she had done this before. Shortly after she sat back down, she pulled out a bag full of mapacho cigarettes, which she offered to us all. I declined because the things were more like cigars, they were so fat. She lit one and began to smoke. Lydia lit one as well.

The mother of the twelve year old girl drank next, then the daughter. The father didn't drink. I guess he was just there to observe. Perhaps he didn't really believe in this stuff. I wondered what his experience would be like. A young man who had come alone drank next and now it was my turn. Even though I had grown quite confident, this was still an anxious moment for me. There was no turning back after this.

"Carlos." Juan called to me.

"Si?" I replied.

"What is your birth sign?" he asked in spanish. I needed Roman's help to understand.

"Cancer."
He had already poured the glass all the way to the top.

"Oh, Cancer? Cancers are fragile." He poured a little back into the pitcher and held out the glass for me. I got up and took the few steps forward to recieve my medicine from the shaman. I took the glass into my hands and said a final prayer.
'To the spirit of Ayahuasca, please may I be healed of my stomach problems.'

"Salud" And in one big gulp, the dirty battery acid was gone. But certainly not forgotten. The taste was unique to say the least. I had never ingested poison but I imagined that it couldn't be worse than this. The orange piece was heaven to my mouth but did little for the rest of me. I quickly felt the liquid burn its way down from my throat to my stomach and then seep through every part of my body, until I thought that I might spontaneously combust. I felt like I was literally on fire, from the inside out. I began to sweat. I considered taking off my long sleeve shirt, but I knew that I would want to put it back on in a little while so I just decided to keep it on. I took some more deep breaths and tried not to think about throwing up.

The other ceremony participants each took their turns drinking their shot of the nastiness. Before Katarina got up to get her glass, Lydia had already left to go puke. I knew that I would need to leave soon, but I wanted badly to stay at least until everyone had drank their glass of ayahuasca. I watched Katarina drink her shot, make her face, and then eat her orange, just like the rest of us. Now we were all in the same place, except for Juan.

Juan set down the pitcher and the dirty shot glass on the table and lit another cigarette. Several of us were smoking now. I felt nauseaus, however, and thought it would be best not to smoke just yet. I could feel the ayahuasca in my stomach. It seemed to be active, moving things around, reacting with the chemicals in there or something, but it was an unusual sensation. I felt like it was healing me already.

"So please watch your step when walking to and from the door in the dark," Juan began. "I'd like you all to go into the garden to vomit or defacate." He paused and a thin smile formed on his face as he continued, "It's ok if you can't make it to the door, but this will separate the men from the boys." He laughed a little and some of the others joined in. He then asked one of the men sitting near the door to move over slightly so that no one trips going by him. Lydia returned and sat back down in her chair. She didn't look so good. Juan looked around the room. When everything was ready, and he had finished his cigarette, he poured himself a glass all the way up to the top.

"Salud."
He drank it in one gulp and then followed it with an orange slice. I was trying to pay as much attention as I could but I was beginning to feel quite awkward. It was a feeling similar to the onset of a strong mushroom high but it was even more powerful, to the point of being frightening. I continued to calm myself down with my breathing and by telling myself that everything was fine. Unfortunately, things were not fine. I was starting to have some real troubles. I was gonna be sick, real sick.

We were all feeling similar sensations, I'm sure, because nearly everyone was silently adjusting themselves and fidgeting in their seats for several minutes, a couple getting up to leave and vomit. I could hear each person vomit when they went outside, and I knew that everyone would hear me when it was my time to go out there. My stomach was now acting in a bizarre manner. I imagined the creature from Alien bursting out of me. Then I imagined him doing a song and dance like in Spaceballs. That made me smile a little but I had real pain in my stomach. I mean it was hurting me bad. I began thinking that throwing up would actually be a pretty good thing at this time.

III. A Visit to the Garden

The light in the corner buzzed as I looked around at the people in our circle. We were a peculiar group. There was one child with her parents, a middle aged woman by herself, an older woman with her nephew, the Peruvian Indian, who I learned from Roman was the chief of the Wachwari tribe, Roman and Eugene from Russia, two young peruvian women who came with us, Katarina from Brazil, Lydia coming from Japan, and myself, from Massachusetts. It was a great scene and I tried to enjoy it, but I knew that it was just a matter of time before I'd have to get up and leave.

The burning sensation had gone away but now my head was feeling funny and my stomach hurt like a mother. I had gotten to the point where I was asking myself, "Should I get up? Do I have to puke?"
I couldn't tell. I knew I had to soon, but how soon, I guess, was my ultimate concern. Eventually, after thinking it over for about ten minutes, I decided to go out to the garden and throw up.

I calmly got up and walked over to the door. The light was still on so it was no trouble finding the door. I walked outside and found a spot in the garden with a little privacy. I put my hands on my knees and quickly puked. Not much came out, basically just the orange slice I had eaten. I coughed a few times and then stood up. The moon was almost all the way up in the sky. It was a beautiful night. A warm breeze blew through the tall plants of the garden and across my face. I felt good that I was doing this. Tonight I was to stand up and be a man. I stood in the moist amazon night for another few minutes before returning to the ceremony.

I was definitely starting to feel the effects now. Somehow, puking accelerates the effects of psychedelics, perhaps by getting more blood flowing to the head. I sat down in my chair and closed my eyes. I was having mild hallucinations with my eyes closed so I sat and watched these, hoping that I would have another vision like in Pucallpa. The blackness of having my eyes closed became filled with swirls of moving colored lights. These took the form of snakes slithering up, down, and across my field of view. Soon I was staring at countless serpents everywhere I looked. It wasn't frightening but I opened my eyes. We were all still there, sitting and waiting. I wondered if anyone else was seeing what I was.

My stomach began to ache even worse. I wanted badly to get this stuff out of my system. I felt a gas bubble move through my system. 'Maybe that was the problem,' I thought. I decided to let out a little gas. Farting in South America is not as impolite as it is here and besides, we had just drank ayahuasca so pretty much, everything goes. I let it out without a sound as I put my hand on my aching belly. It did nothing but I soon felt another bubble. I was not feeling very good right now. I tried to let out another fart, but it didn't go as planned.

I felt a squirt of diarrhea splash out before I had time to stop it. Uh-oh. I just shit my pants, a little. 'Fuck!' I thought. I quickly got up and left. I went far into the garden, near the road and pulled my shorts down. Liquid poured out of me at an alarming rate. I relaxed and sat down in the grass with my shorts still down. I decided to take off my underwear and leave them there by the road. I managed to take them off but soon after I had my shorts back on, I had to puke.

I kneeled on the ground and hurled a massive amount. I was projectile vomiting liters of dark green liquid. I was also tripping hard. The entire garden was glowing with sparkling green light. Everything moved in patterns like it was part of some amazing screen saver or something. I was puking like it was going out of style. I wondered if I had maybe made a mistake.

"What are you doing, Chip?" I asked myself outloud. I had curled up into a ball and was sitting in the garden, with tears rolling down my face, rocking back and forth. 'I don't like this,' I thought. But I heard a voice inside my head say, "tonight is when you stand up and be a man."
'That's right,' I thought. 'You gotta stop being such a baby.'

I looked up at the stars above me. They were lost in a mural of spiraling colors and energy patterns. The scene was amazing and for several minutes I stared up at this beautiful display, until another attack of nausea forced me to throw up another gallon of pond scum. I couldn't understand how so much puke could be coming out of me, when I had only drank about an ounce of ayahuasca. I puked hard for several minutes, at one point having to pull down my shorts again with diarrhea. I was puking with my pants down; not my idea of a vacation.

Things starting getting really heavy for me out there in the garden. Visions were occuring every time I closed my eyes. Some of these visions were cool, like the first vision I had; a vision of walking down the street with Victor and David, two friends I had made on the boat to Iquitos. It was such a real vision, that even though I knew I was in the garden, I was asking them, "what are you doing, here?" I thought they were really there. Then I realized that we were on the streets of Iquitos and it was daytime. Other visions, however, were not so cool.

The next vision I had was of a peruvian man, at least I thought he was a man. He looked at me and I looked at him. Then he began to transform into some sort of hideous creature. One of his eyes spun around and got really big, like he was going to turn into a bug. It turned yellow and then continued to spin fully around to end up as a huge, glowing yellow eye, in the head of a werewolf like monster. That shit was fucked up. I opened my eyes and tried to motivate back into the house.

"C'mon, stop being such a baby." I said. Just then a man came outside and puked in front of the house. I watched him puke for a few minutes and then, when he was done, he went back inside. I knew I should go inside as well, but I still felt like shit. Actually, I was just scared. This was powerful shit and I wasn't able to handle it all just yet. This wasn't tripping. I don't know what the fuck this was but it wasn't tripping.

"Please, make it stop," I said. I was a wreck. I needed to pull myself together. I looked down at my arm and saw what looked like a centipede crawl inside my forearm just below my elbow. I was freaking out, slightly, and I wanted desperately to get my shit together. I forced myself to stand up. I could hear Juan singing inside the house. The ceremony had truly begun, and I was fucked up. I could hardly stand.

I swayed around and then stumbled two steps towards the door. Then I froze and looked up at the sky. It was still a beautiful show of color and lights. Only now something caught my attention and made my jaw drop. There, hovering quietly about a hundred yards above my head, was a U.F.O. I stared in absolute amazement as it moved slightly to the side. It looked rather small, as if it could only hold one or two people, or whatevers. But then it was joined by another, slightly larger craft. The two ships manuevered around a bit as my eyes bulged out of my head. Somehow, I felt they were checking me out, or the ceremony, at least.

I grabbed onto a nearby tree branch so that I could get a more stable view. Yes, they certainly appeared to be spaceships. I immediately thought about my father, who is the president of an organization funded by NASA. He 'knows' aliens exist because he has talked to many astronauts and scientists who personally confirm their existence. I was still skeptical, until now. Ayahuasca or no ayahuasca, I couldn't convince myself of anything other than the fact that I was now looking at two alien spaceships. I stared in disbelief, trying to figure out how I was going to tell my father.

Then a third spacecraft appeared. It was much, much larger than the others; like 100 times larger. It was so huge it took up almost the entire sky. I could not believe my wide open eyes. I wanted to watch those ships for the rest of my life but, of course, a force greater than me wanted me to watch streams of dark liquid fly out of my mouth and onto the ground next to this tree. I wondered how many more times I was going to have to throw up. I crouched down to take the pressure off my shaking knees and leaned against the tree trunk. Oh man.

I closed my eyes and hundreds of monsters seemed to run towards me. I opened my eyes to a puddle of puke and then closed them again. There were those same, damn monsters gettin' in my face. It was like I was playing Red Light, Green Light with demons from another dimension. I leaned over and layed down in the grass. I still didn't feel right. I looked up and the U.F.O.s were gone.
'How long had I been out there?' I had no idea. 'I should really go inside now.'
'Just one more minute.' I could hear Juan singing and felt better already. I just needed another minute.

I was still being a child.

The Wachwari cheif came out of the door and walked past me to vomit near the road. After a few good hurls, he headed back inside, stopping to tell me something.
He didn't speak english, but I could tell what he was saying because he motioned with his arms. He wanted me to go inside.

I got up and we went inside together. I stumbled as I walked. I had by no means sobered up. I was just as fucked up, if not more. Hopefully, the shaman would make it all better. We walked into a pitch black room. The energy was so dense I had to push through it to get to my chair, which I felt my way into for the first time in a while. I was back and worse than ever.

IV. Don Juan in Concert
Even though it was so dark in Juan's house, I was never without something to look at. Closing my eyes did little to change what I was seeing, vivid hallucinations of moving color, often in the shape of snakes, slithering across my field of view. But this was just the background for a truly amazing array of spirits to act in some bizarre theatrical play. It truly pushed the limits of my beliefs to a point where I gave up thinking I knew anything. Who really knows what is possible and not?

I had seen visions in the garden that were similar to flipping through channels on TV. For a few seconds I was seeing Victor and David, then flip to the werewolf, then flip to the indians, then UFOs, but now, inside the house with the others, it was as if I had decided on one show, commercial-free. This was most likely due to the fact that Don Juan was singing in here, and somehow his voice and these unusual songs, called "icaros," were having a big influence on my mental state.

I felt like he was focusing my mind, allowing me greater power in this weird dimension I found myself in, by following his voice as it moved through a series of notes in a manner I found to be very beautiful and very hard to predict. I really had to listen to each note because the music was so unique to me that I had difficulty following it. Three notes would trail up and my mind would want that fourth one at the top, but instead, it would drop to one ten notes lower and come back up a little later.

Juan was reprogramming how my mind naturally worked, getting me out of my normal train of thought. Each song seemed to work in a different way. I began to think about the Grateful Dead, and Jerry Garcia. People have always wondered why so many fans would follow that band around just to listen to their music. Now I began to think that the music of the Dead was healing people and that they felt it inside, and wanted to feel that again and again. Juan's songs were like the music of the dead as well, in an even more literal way. They were songs taught to him by his ancestors and the spirits of the plants.

Quickly, I had transformed from a frightened child, into an older more confident young man. I was not yet a man, however, and tonight was to be my night to stand up and be a man. I sat up in my chair a little more and tried to follow Juan's voice as he sang. This was probably his fourth song. I had missed most of the first one when I was out in the garden. His music was soothing and I didn't want him to stop singing. For an older man, he had a beautiful singing voice, especially for someone who smoked cigarettes, I thought.

While he sang the first four songs, nearly everyone in the ceremony had gotten up to leave, so as Juan sang, he was accompanied by the sound of people having diarrhea and puking. Pained moans accompanied splashes of puke and gargled profanities. I laughed at the fact that when the Grateful Dead sang, everyone cheered and clapped, but when Juan sings, everyone throws up. It was nice to have a cheerful thought, but I was still doing all I could just to keep it all together. Only inside the house was I managing to succeed in that effort, while out in garden I had failed miserably.

As I listened to Juan finish the last icaro of the first "set," I tried intently to see him. I looked with eyes wide open in the vicinity of where his voice was coming, but all I could see were two men, out in the rainforest. They were standing next to a big pot of what I guessed was ayahuasca. One of them held a stick in his hand and they both said nothing. They just looked at me as I looked at them. Neither one of them looked like Juan and I wondered who they were. And where was Juan? I wanted to see him but I couldn't. As the music ended, I put my hands on my stomach and slunk down in my chair. I was gonna have to go back outside soon.

My stomach still ached like I had eaten a handful of thumbtacks or something. It felt like I literally had a creature inside me, and he was tearin' shit up. The sound of the door swinging open made me think it might be time to leave again. It was Lydia comin' back in. I listened to her flop down into her chair. She was having a tough time just like me. Just then, the twelve year old girl who was sitting to my right began to wimper. I had forgotten about her. 'Holy shit!' I thought. I was having some real trouble here and I'm 28 years old and I've taken acid and eaten mushrooms. What was this girl going through? I couldn't imagine.

Her mother said some words to her softly in spanish. The girl tried to stop crying but she was clearly having visions of snakes like me and maybe some werewolves, too. That shit will scare anyone. I looked over at her in the pitch black of the room. Somehow I could see her, she looked like she had maggots coming out of her mouth. It was pretty gross and I looked away. Maybe that's what she was feeling. Now I knew it time for me to go outside. I needed puke.

I found my way to the door and opened it. The dim light of the moon and stars seemed bright and I squinted as I walked into the garden. After a few steps, a vile green liquid literally projected out of me like a rocket. I bent over and put my hands on my knees, a position I would become very familiar with over the course of the night. What seemed like gallons of dark liquid poured from me like a faucet. I was actually pretty amazed that I could be expelling so much from drinking so little. I coughed and hacked in between demonic expressions of agony. The neighborhood dogs began barking and I began losing my sense of reality all together.

Hunched over by a tree, I found myself in another dimension. I was on a street corner somewhere in Iquitos. I hardly noticed that it was out of the ordinary, but then a spanish man approached me and asked for all my money. I took out a huge wad of cash from my pocket and gave it to him. He immediately disappeared and I was left wondering why I had given him my money. I opened my eyes to the garden scene by the tree again. A little panicked, I quickly checked my pockets. I still had my money. Relieved, I stood up and looked up at the stars.

Now I'm positive my eyes were open at this point, yet I couldn't see any stars, or the moon for that matter. Why should I though, during the day? Somehow, with my eyes open, I looked up to a blue sky with brilliant white clouds. I was a gorgeous, sunny day. Again, I hardly felt that this was unusual, except that I had never seen clouds like this before. They resembled dandelions in the fall, when they have produced seed and are waiting for the wind to blow their light white parachutes off to a new home for their seeds to replant. These clouds were made of long fibers, that extended out from a central source. They were very interesting and I stood, inspecting them for a minute or so, before going back inside. Juan had begun to sing again and I was eager to listen.

He seemed to have gathered more energy since the last set of icaros, for this second set was quicker and louder. He was gettin' in there. His first song moved as fast as a trance track at a club. He kept the rhythm with his breath, so even a sustained note had a rhythm in it, similar to native americans. But these songs were very different than the ones I had heard on national geographic specials and at local Pow Wows. This was not so tribal. In fact, I found it to be quite intellectual because the path of the notes was so creative and the time was so unusual. I had heard a ton of different kinds of music in my life, yet I could not compare this to anything I knew.

Because the tempo was so fast, I began thinking that a producer ought to record this music and create some tracks for the electronic music scene. I had been playing percussion with a DJ named Hush for over six years and I knew a lot of people who made tracks, Hush being one of them. One of the producers I knew was Steve Porter, who had recently become a huge name in Trance. He was signed to a bunch of different labels and was a great person. I decided that I needed to get him a recording of Juan's icaros before I left. This was important shit. It could heal huge groups of people who know nothing about shamanism. I was beginning to feel the importance in my life that I learn how to heal.

I was also beginning to feel my stomach get a little better. I was not feeling the thumbtacks so much now, perhaps the creature had stopped gnawing on my insides and was taking a nap. As the icaro came to an end I began taking control of my situation a little more. I had become aclimated to this fucked up, weirdo world I was now a part of and decided to check this place out a little. I began consciously asking to be taken around, like a tour. Almost immediately, my request was addressed.

From out of the snakes and into the spotlight stepped a mexican man, or at least I thought he was mexican because he was wearing a big sombrero. He stopped and looked at me, seemingly saying,"So you want to see what this place is about, huh?" Then he began transforming into a hideous creature right before my eyes. Out in the garden, I had become quite frightened seeing shit like this, but after I saw the guy take my money and then realized he hadn't, I decided not to be so scared of this kinda stuff. So instead of looking away, I just watched him transform, curious to what it all meant. Why was he trying to frighten me?

Well, as soon as he saw that I wasn't scared, he turned right back into the mexican dude. He smiled and like a mime or a clown, waved his hands around and then took off the top part of his sombrero. Out of his hat came hundreds of floating little doo-dads. They resembled video game characters of some kind, and they each had their own characteristics. I stopped to look at one and while I watched it put on a magnificent display of functions that it could perform. Shaped like a gear, a ridged cylinder, yet with a face and a personality, this thing sprouted feathers and retracted them like a sea creature on the ocean floor. Then it spouted a cloud of sparkling dust like whale. I felt like each one of these cute little "entities" was demonstrating a particular function of the universe, or physical law.

I watched in amazement as this crazy circus of critters entertained me. Soon, however, I desired something more meaningful. I wanted to learn. Almost as a reaction to my thoughts, the mexican man walked off into the distance, waving at me as all his little friends floated after him and his magic sombrero. Then I was back in the void again, just me and a million snakes slithering across my eyeballs. It was as if there were acts in a play and I was the audience waiting in the intermission. Should I go out to the lobby and puke? naw.

The next act was my favorite one of all. There I was, sitting in the room, just attentively waiting for what was to come, when an octopus appeared. It was certainly an octopus, a clean, pink octopus, but it had a human quality to it that reminded me of Hindu paintings of man-lions and human looking elephants. It had the eyes of Ganesh, like a wise woman staring at me with compassion. I was hypnotized by her as she slowly spun, with tentacles outstretched in all directions. "This is amazing" I thought. And it was.

This female goddess-like spirit floated up close to my face, so that we were only a few inches from touching. I smiled because I could see that she was kind and intelligent. She was not going to harm me. She was my friend, my ally. We communicated in a psychic, wordless way and then this pink octopus wrapped her tentacles around my face. I wasn't freaked out by it. I found it a little bit amusing but quickly moved her up onto the top of my head, where she began doing something in a very diligent manner. It appeared she was altering my head in some way but I couldn't really tell because it was all happening underneath her. She must've been working with her mouth, or beak, or whatever.

When she had finished making her head accessory for me, she began to put octopus eggs into my head. Actually, she was putting them into a sack she had built inside my head, but either way, it was a tad unusual. She must've put about fifty octopus eggs in there. I'm not sure how they all fit, but now I've got a whole bunch of octopus eggs in my head. The octopus didn't leave, though. I took her and put her inside the netting on the outside of a bag, which a little boy was holding for me. I really don't know where that boy came from, he just kinda appeared with the bag, but somehow I felt like he'd carry that bag for me now, if I need to put stuff in it or take stuff out. Wait a second... the boy is holding the bag with the octopus that put eggs in my head? Man. This was getting crazy... and I loved it.

I again sat in the slithers of intermission, considering what a fool I'd been for thinking I knew anything about anything. The world was quickly becoming ridiculously amazing right before my eyes. It was like seeing for the first time, after years of being blind. How had all this been here but I didn't know? There were millions of worlds right in front of my nose, yet I had missed them all these years. I pondered the octopus and decided that there was definitely a message in there. I felt that the octopus was a symbol of wisdom, especially with eyes like hers, and that the giving of eggs was like her planting the seeds of wisdom inside my mind. These eggs hold so much potential for me, but only if they hatch. And for these eggs to hatch I need to care for them, keep them warm, and never forget about them, for they will open up into the greatest lessons in my life.

I felt truly blessed. What an incredible feeling I had at that moment. I knew that I was to become a healer like Juan. I was being selected, somehow, to work within this totally fucked up dimension with these straight outa the cartoons characters. I could hardly contain my excitement. "Yes!" I was so psyched to be here. I thought, "I want to see more." Juan's second icaro of the set had begun. It was also a high paced number and while it resembled the first one, it had a creativity all its own. With my eyes closed, I listened to this melody as if it were the soundtrack to my movie, which currently starred me and this little girl. When I expressed my desire to see all I could, she responded by beckoning me to come with her. I followed her through the darkness until we came out on the surface of a very tweaked planet.

It was beyond my imagination, it was so messed up. Tim Burton could maybe think of shit like this, but even he would've been dumbfounded. It was like Nightmare Before Christmas, the movie about all the Halloween creatures taking over Christmas. All the inhabitants of this planet were totally tweaked. Not that they had pumkin heads, but some had six legs and two heads and others had long necks with beak like things on the back of their heads. Eyes were not a necessity, but some creatures had them. And the planet itself was like a Dr. Seuss book, with bright colored rocks and stripes going this way and that.

"What the fuck is this?" I wondered. If I was to learn something here, I don't have the foggiest idea of what that could be. "No, I want to keep going." I thought. There was this little girl again, answering my call. This time she brought me to a boat on a huge, still lake. I couldn't see the other side. We got in and the boat just began to move. When it reached the other shore, there were no more stripes, no weirdo creatures. We were someplace else, another world or another dimesion, or something, but it was definitely different.

It was dark. Really dark, like the sun didn't even exist. And the creatures resembled murderous stalkers, with glowing yellow eyes. "Nothing for me here," I quickly decided. "More, please."

This time the little girl and I flew away like superman. If I was dreaming, this was the craziest dream I'd ever had, by far. It did feel like I was dreaming, especially as I flew, which I had done before in dreams. On the boat I had taken to get to Iquitos, I had had a dream in which I flew. I was flying around a bunch of Peruvian indians and the children brought me to a table with several different animal masks on it. I had chosed the elephant mask and the dream ended with me flying around with an elephant mask on. I thought that was a weird dream. It doesn't hold a candle to what I was now experiencing.

When we landed in the next world, I hardly even gave it a chance. I decided to get a little bit more specific with my new helper. I asked the little girl if she could take me higher up, because I wanted to talk to someone in charge. She nodded, reading my thoughts like only a character in a dream can. Then she stuck her finger into the sky, poking through the painted backdrop and tearing a large hole right through this new scene. We both went through the hole and I felt myself floating upward. I could see nothing but black and I felt like I was in outer space. The little girl was gone.

From out of nowhere came a glowing ball of white light. It came up to me and broke into seven different glowing orbs about two feet away from me. Each one was a different color and as they broke from the center they formed a vertical line, even with my body. I quickly decided that this meant something important, while the other shit wasn't doing anything for me. My chest then split open and I watched these glowing orbs float inside me. Then the opening sealed back up and I was me again. Juan had stopped singing and as I opened my eyes, I wondered if I had fallen asleep.

It didn't feel like it, but it sure felt like it was a dream, The only difference was that I was completely conscious, I asked to go places and went. Normally, in a dream I don't have that kind of control. I began contemplating the possiblities of taking control of your dreams. Perhaps that's how the healing takes place. In the dream state, I figure out what's wrong and fix it, using everything my wildest imagination can conjure up. As Juan began the next icaro, I decided to try a little healing work on myself. I already felt more confident with these glowing balls inside me.

V. Furry Little Mongrels
As the maestro, Don Juan, began another icaro, I began to settle into a comfortable space in my mind. I still had pain in my stomach, but I was not so lost anymore. I was used to my surroundings now and I wanted to make the most of this opportunity. The melody of this song was quite slow and the notes were longer and drawn out. It sounded like a love song. As I listened to Juan's voice, I began concentrating on healing my stomach. I knew that I could figure out what was wrong with me in this state, here in the ceremony, with Juan.

I had been to three different doctors over the last two years, trying to find a cure for my stomach problem. I had thrown up every morning for over a year, and nothing I did seemed to have any effect. I had fasted for the day and thrown up the next morning. I had done every acid reflux trick in the book, but to no avail. I had something wrong with me and no one could figure it out. One doctor suggested that I might have a cyst in my sinuses, but the x-rays showed nothing. None of these doctors had ever drank ayahuasca, however.

As the second verse of the icaro vibrated through the dark, dank air, I found myself face to face with me. I was actually looking at myself from the outside in. I guess you could say I was having an out of body experience. It didn't last long, however, because I quickly shrunk down small enough to fit inside my mouth and travelled down my throat into my stomach. Now I could really take a look around and see what was the matter with me. As soon as I entered my stomach I found the problem.

My stomach was being occupied by a rather large, furry creature. It was like a weird cross between a gremlin and a tribble from old school star trek. I was surprised to find him in there but without hesitation I grabbed him and somehow managed to throw him out of my stomach. It was hardly a battle because even though he looked a little scary with his big mouth of fangs, he didn't have any arms or legs and didn't put up much of a fight. I had been inside my stomach for ten seconds and already I had kicked a furry little mongrel out of my body. Unfortunately, it wasn't the only one.

After I got rid of the that fairly large creature, I noticed that he had many friends with him. They weren't as large, but there were still about a dozen more mongrels. I chased them down and threw them out. I had become the bouncer for club stomach. "The party's over, folks. You don't have to go home but you can't stay here." One by one, I kicked each one of the furry creatures out of my body. I even found a little baby mongrel. I said to it as I picked it up off my stomach's wall, "You are cute, but you still can't stay." Then I chucked it just like the rest of 'em.

When I was finished, all that was left in my stomach was some dark liquid at the bottom. There were no more mongrels. I opened my eyes and listened to the end of Juan's icaro, the love song. It sounded like he was saying, "Bengo lay, bengo la," over and over in a soothing melody. I began to think that healing was a little different than I had previously thought. I had never imagined that I would have to defeat my illness in hand to hand combat. I began to think that I had had a parasite inside me, perhaps from the last time I had visited Peru. I had just had a good look at the parasites, those little furry mongrels, and I was pretty sure that I had removed them from my system, forever.

My stomach still hurt and as another icaro began I wondered if it might be time to visit the garden again. I was feeling the medicine working again, pulling out the toxins from all their hiding places. I thought that throwing up again would be a great combination with the work I had just done, cleaning house. At the same time, I was not looking forward to the experience, preferring to stay inside the safety of the ceremony. But when nature calls, there really is no other choice but to answer the call. I could hear the phone ringing down there...

Just as I was deciding whether it not I could wait another minute, it began to rain. The sound of raindrops on the roof was like a chorus of percussive instruments showering rhythms on top of us. It was powerful and everyone reacted in a similar way, mesmorized by the sound. We looked up and at each other. Was it really raining? It sure sounded like it. Now I thought that I should have gone out a few minutes earlier and I would've missed the rain. Oh well, not much I can do now. It was that time again, rain or shine. I got up and walked to the door.

As I pulled the door open and walked outside, I became confused. I was certain that it was raining, but not a single drop had fallen and there was not a cloud in the sky. I could still hear the sound of rain on the roof, but it was not accompanied by any actual rain. It was some sort of audio illusion. I pondered if Juan had produced this effect with his icaros. My respect for him continued to grow as the ceremony progressed. This guy did this shit for a living? Damn.

Well, I wanted to think about the rain trick for a little while longer but I had a bunch of puke in me with different plans. I bent over again and let it fly. I pictured the mongrels pouring out with all the dark liquid that somehow was still inside me. My eyes teared up and my legs shook at the knees as I struggled to gargle out ancient chants from deep within me. I gasped for breath in between heaves. It felt like I had spent the entire night before drinking tequila and gin and tonics. This made hangovers look fun. I puked up another gallon of toxic waste into a puddle at my feet and then caught my breath and relaxed a bit.

It was nice to come outside now. After I puked it was like a tiny vacation from the intensity of the ceremony. Inside I was doing work, but coming out here was a mini break. As I stood with my hands still on my knees, I looked over at a nearby stump. With my eyes closed, it looked like there was a Peruvian indian sitting on this stump, staring at me. With my eyes open in the moonlight, I could not see him. I believed strongly that he was really there, though, and desired strongly to see his image with my eyes open, in the light. I stared at the spot and concentrated on letting my eyes see the indian. I looked harder with my intent, but let my eyes relax a little. Calmly I stared at that stump, until little by little, the image of the indian appeared, like a ghost that I could see through. He was made of faint glowing lights, but he was there, and I could see him with my eyes open. At least, I thought I could.

I smiled and felt really good inside. I was making progress. I was learning as quickly as I could. What I needed to learn was those songs. They were obviously playing a big role in the ceremony. As I stood up and took a deep breath, I decided that I would try to learn the songs, and that I would have to remember to ask Juan a few things when the time came, like who were those aliens? Or what's up with the mongrels? And the rain, and the mexican with the magic trinket sombrero, and where the hell was he? I realized that my life had already been changed so much, and it would never be the same. I laughed to myself as Juan's icaro ended and the sound of the rain stopped with it. I knew he had done that.

As I got back to my seat, my stomach was still hurting. I wondered why I was still in so much pain after I had removed all the mongrels. I decided to take another look. Perhaps I had missed something the first time. After all, it was my first time ever going inside my stomach, how am I supposed to know what it should or shouldn't look like? So with no accompaniament from Juan, I sat in silence and closed my eyes. I was ready for round II of my healing session. This time I would be even more alert and inspect everything.

I'm not sure how I did this each time, but somehow, I stepped out of my body again and stood face to face with myself. Then I shrunk down and got inside my mouth and went back down into my stomach. I had already decided that I might need to travel the length of my intestines and clean house. When I got to my stomach, I looked around with an even more careful eye. It seemed clean, just like I left it, except for the murky water in the bottom. I moved in for a closer look. I didn't know if that liquid was supposed to be in there or not. Before it didn't seem that out of the ordinary with a bunch of furry mongrels hanging around. But now, with a clean stomach, the murky water was the only thing I could check out, abnormal or not. It turns out it was quite abnormal.

When I got closer to the thick, dark green liquid, I quickly realized that this was not a good thing to have in my body. But then I made out what looked like a set of eyes, just beneath the surface. There was some sort of creature under there. I couldn't quite make out what it was, though. I reached in and grabbed this ugly thing and started to yank on it. It looked like an octopus. Another octopus? What the hell was going on here? But wait, it wasn't an octopus, it was a squid. It was one mean looking squid, too. It was pretty damn big, compared to me at the time. It filled up that whole pool in my stomach and its tentacles were wrapped around my intestines from the inside. I had to rip this fucker, suction cup by suction cup off the bottom of my stomach and the walls of my intestines. The bastard had tangled up my intestines, damming up my stomach so that he could have his little cess pool. I was pissed off at this asshole and when I'd ripped him from my insides I threw him a thousand miles off into space. And that was the end of the squid.

I thought my stomach had been hurting before, now it was like I'd been stabbed. I could feel each open sore where the tentacles suction cups had been. I was bleeding internally, most likely, and it hurt, a lot. But it was a good hurt. I knew that when those wounds healed, I would be healed. I thought about how I might prefer to have the suction cups back just so I wouldn't have to feel the pain, but that was a silly thought. This was true healing, and sometimes it hurts.

But my adventure inside the human body wasn't over yet. I had planned on cleaning out the ol' intestines and I was gonna follow through with the plan. I took out a flashlight and headed in. I thought it was a little bit comical that I needed the flashlight, but it helped with the feeling that I was really looking hard. As soon as I got in there I found another furry little mongrel. I literally kicked him out, like a field goal. There were stragglers lurking just about everywhere down there. I'd walk about ten feet and there would be another one, just waiting for me to tackle and toss. I don't know how long my intestines are, but it seemed like a freakin mile and a half. I don't even think I made it to the end, which is probably a good thing, now that I think about it.

I just kinda faded out. I lost my concentration. Juan had not been singing for a little while and I think the room was losing some of its mojo, or something. I decided to take a look around the room and see what everybody else was doing. As I gazed around I could make out the form of each person in their chair. It looked like a couple people were asleep. The little girl was being held by her mother. The indian cheif sat as if he was at an important meeting, with eyes open and attentive. Lydia had her scarf draped over her head.

"Hey Lydia" I said softly.

"Who's that? Carlos?"

"Yeah. How ya doin'?"

"I'm doin' alright, y'know. I've been pukin' a lot but it's alright. I know it's good for me. How you doin?"

Lydia was the best.
"I'm doin' real good right now. My stomach still hurts but I think I've made some real progress. I've seen some crazy shit too. We gotta have a big talk later."

"Oh definitely." I wondered if Lydia was seeing the same kinda stuff as me. She must be, how could I be seeing this stuff and nobody else. No, everybody was seeing this stuff, just like me. It had to be.

"You're seein' crazy shit, too, right?"

"My whole time is fuckin' whacked."

"Yeah, same with me."

Eugene asked me if I'd like a cigarette and I took one from him and lit it. It was somehow soothing to inhale the smoke. I could take large puffs and not cough too. I'm not sure why, but I definitely noticed this as I ripped hits off this cigarette like a spliff, just because I could. We still had a while to go on this trip and I had already seen more than my brain could handle. Then, of course, things began to get really weird.

VI. Letting Go
Juan began his third set after finishing a cigarette like myself and a few others. Again, I was immediately drawn to following the melody, allowing it to focus my mind and lengthen my attention span. I had already realized the importance of having the ability to focus on one thing for a long time. Juan's icaros were a tremendous help in achieving that ability. I listened intently to the flow of the notes, up and down in a most unusual way, yet not sounding unusual at all, but beautiful. I had been chugging that cigarette and now, in unison with the music, came a wave of hallucinations I had not seen yet. It was as if I was meeting the spirit of tobacco.

The serpents that I had become so fond of in the last couple of hours were now pushed way back as an enormous sheet of different visuals crashed over me. I could feel the presence of this spirit. It worked in harmony with the ayahuasca spirit, moving in patterns that flowed with the serpents. The play had just been kicked up a notch. I closed my eyes to listen and watch. It was like a symphony of blooming flowers, withering and blooming over and over again, in a cyclical, domino pattern, where flowers would bloom one after the other, around in spirals. It was breathtaking. It was also intoxicating.

I began to feel my head spinning. I was losing control a bit. Things were getting a little out of hand. I just couldn't manage to see straight. My body was going off kilter some how. I was feeling way off. I began to think that maybe that cigarette wasn't such a good idea. I had to puke again. I had been doing so well and now I was back to being a mess again. I got up and stumbled out of the shack. I just barely kept my composure, puking only a foot or two away from the door. I guess I had decided that I was through puking. I was wrong.
"But how could there still be stuff in there?" I wondered as I watched a solid stream of dark green vomit launch out onto the ground. It was simply baffling. There was no explanation other than the idea that ayahuasca was cleaning me out, and all this shit was the toxins inside me. I guess I had a lot of toxins. I had done my share of partying, and eating fast food, and treating myself poorly and now I was feeling it.

I puked for a few minutes, without too much suffering. I was getting better at it. It seemed like me and Lydia were the only ones still puking. If I wasn't out here than she was. I guess americans live toxic lives. Not surprising at all. And speak of the devil, out came Lydia. She went off to shit around the corner and we both spent our moments in silence. I'm not sure if she even knew it was me. I looked up at the sky and saw the stars again. The moon was already headed home for the night. It was so peaceful, so tranquil. I hugged myself, saying "I love you" to myself and then went back inside.

Things were really cookin' in there now. It was like steppin' into a blues club or something. The vibe was just thick with emotion; I had to swim through it. When I got back to my seat the whole room was still in motion, only now it wasn't spinning so fast. Tobacco was still hangin' around but the Ayahuasca was coming through more prominently again. I tried to sit up straight in my chair and be attentive. It was time now for me to be a man. Even though I was twenty-eight years old, I was still a child inside. I knew that. But things were changing inside, physically and mentally, and spiritually. I would not be the same after this night, that's for sure.

Prior to the ceremony, I had been sitting with Lydia on the Boulevard in Iquitos, right next to the Amazon river. We were lounging in the grass, trying to catch up on nearly three years apart from each other. It's funny how good friends can just link back up. We really didn't need to catch up, we knew each other deep down and that was what was really important. I had brought a deck of tarot cards and did readings for us both regarding the ceremony. My reading had basically said that I needed to let go of the conceptions I had of myself and the image I was trying to project and just stand up and be a man. It was the perfect reading for a night like this. I knew I had to be a man, I just needed to let go.

Lydia's had said that she was going to go through some heavy shit but that in the end she would achieve harmony within. That was a beautiful card. It had the image of two dolphins leaping over the head of a young woman. On the way to Iquitos I had seen dolphins. I even saw a pink one. So we both had very good readings prior to the ceremony, which I think gave us an extra boost of confidence. I needed all the help I could get.

"Stop trying to control, just let go." I visualized my fingers letting go of whatever they were holding onto. I could feel myself relaxing more and more. Juan was still singing and the vibrations were pulsing through me like an x-ray. I needed to let go more. In my head I repeated the phrase, "just let go," over and over. And over and over I visualized my fingers releasing their grip. I was letting go. I was letting go of everything that I had been holding on to. I was letting go of everything that I had been carrying with me; all my pain, my sorrow, my worries, my anxiety. I was letting go of it all, and it was making me feel good inside.

As I sat there, I began to feel like a man. I really began to feel the maturity and strength of a man. I had just needed to let go of my childhood, let go of my fears, to stand up and be a man. As I basked in this wonderful feeling, the pain in my stomach disappeared for a moment. I felt like I was glowing. I guess I had let go of the covering which had been blocking out my light. Now I could truly shine.

As I smiled with eyes closed, Juan's icaro came to an end. I was in heaven. The world was a gem and I was the luckiest man alive. Feelings of love and compassion filled me to the brim, so that tears overflowed. I was in love with the universe. Just then I felt a hand rest on my shoulder. I knew no one had been behind me and I looked back to see who it was. It was a man, or the spirit of a man, I guess. He was made of luminous fibers, tiny little dots of changing colors. I couldn't exactly see through him, yet he didn't appear to be 'solid.' It kinda looked like he was wearing a grey sweatsuit. I looked up at his face. He looked familiar and I could tell he was friendly, but I couldn't quite place who it was. I turned around to face Juan again and wondered if I should say something or do anything about this guy standing here.

"Carlos?" Lydia's voice came, out of the darkness.

"Yeah?" I replied, still thinking about the spirit whose hand was still on my shoulder.

"I keep lookin' over at you and it looks like there's a guy standing behind you and it's freakin' me out." I had said nothing to no one. How did she know?

"I see him too" I said. "It's o.k. He's a good guy."

"He's a good guy?"

"He's a good guy."

"O.k. but it's freakin' me out." Now this was a little freaky for me too, I must say. If Lydia saw this guy, and I saw him too, then doesn't that make him real? Either that or we somehow saw the same hallucination, but then what is a hullucination? Before I got too heavy into that one, I decided to turn around and meet this person. So I turned around in my chair and stuck out my hand and said, "what's your name?"

The spirit shook my hand and leaned over to say softly, "Chip."

Wait. My nickname was Chip. How could that be? He was me? No. Then I realized who it must be. My godmother had had a son named Chip. He and I were pretty close when I was growing up. He taught me how to fish and we went fishing early in the morning on several occasions up in Massachusetts. Chip was like twelve years older than me and I looked up to him with a great deal of respect. A few years back, he had committed suicide. His death had had a huge impact on his mother, my godmother. She claimed to have been visited by Chip shortly after his funeral to tell her that he was alright. He left her a message for the living which she managed to write down. It was truly eloquent beyond human ability. She went on to become a spiritual healer. Now, here in Iquitos, was my godbrother, Chip, hanging out with me as I become a man. What a night. What a fucking crazy night.

I had come to Juan's house with expectations of what this night would be like and what I wanted it to be. It was so far beyond any of those thoughts that I'm not even sure I'd still call them thoughts. Life was a whole new bag, now. Nothing was as it had been. The rules had been changed, for the better, and the for the weirder. As Juan began another song, I tried to calm myself down so I could continue working. I began repeating my new mantra again, "just let go... let go."

I started flipping back through memories from my childhood, as if I was throwing away postcards with pictures from my life on them. I had been saving these and it was time to just toss 'em. I got to one memory of me and my brother lying in our beds, listening to our parents fight in the other room. They were arguing about money. I was only six or seven years old, and I decided that night that my presence was a burden on my parents. I thought that I was the reason they were fighting and I had never let go of that idea. Now I could see what I had been holding tp and I could feel myself finally letting go of it. I dropped a great deal of emotional weight sitting in that chair with my eyes closed. I had probably lost a few pounds of physical weight as well. I came back to the room from a slow flash of my life before my eyes.

I was still holding on. I had let go of nearly everything, but I still couldn't let go of my identity, of who I was. I was percieving the consciousness in my head like a stubborn man who wouldn't leave his house. I was shooing my consciousness out of the house, to let go of the body completely, but he was very reluctant to leave. At one point I had the little guy clinging to the antenna on the roof. I considered just picking him up and carrying him off, but I thought that this was a decision he needed to make on his own. He had to truly want to let go of it all for once and for good. And to let go it all for once and for good, was to die.

VII. The Vine of the Dead
Even though the sun had set several hours earlier, my world had become dark for the first time in a long time. There were no snakes, and nothing moved. The night had stopped and time was standing still. I sat, almost laying out in my plastic chair, a product of gravity, with my head arched back and my jaw wide open. I was totally and completely relaxed. I had let go of all the tension in my body, all the emotions. Everything, and everyone had disappeared. There was only my breath slowly moving in and out through my open mouth. Slower. . . and now slower. . . these breaths were spreading out as the contemplation of carrying myself out of my body went through my head. No, I had decided to simply die on my own accord, by my own sheer will. I had to will myself to death. Was I taking this whole "letting go" thing a little too far?

I just felt that if I could get this ego, or whatever it was I was visualizing and interacting with, to leave my body, than I would become enlightened. I listened as the moist evening air entered my lungs, sat in silence for a moment, and then exited. This was the only thing keeping me from the other side, this flap going back and forth. It was as if the sound itself was the last barrier to the eternal connection. There was nothing in the world except for that sound. My thoughts stopped talking and started listening. I was nothing now, just a whisper in the breeze.

"It's ok, everything will be fine," a voice said, persuading me to go. I began to think that I was about to experience enlightenment. It was actually going to happen right now. All I had to do was walk away, just leave it all behind and move on. It was just that simple. "You have nothing to worry about." The sound of a long exhale faded and was followed by silence. . . the great dream was ending, I was finally going to wake up.

But what if I don't come back? What if I become enlightened and that is the end of me. There's no more Carlito. No Chip, nothing, nada, just whatever's left when you're enlightened. I was frightened. Perhaps I wasn't totally a man yet. I couldn't help thinking that I might actually die right there in that house and freak the shit out of Lydia and everyone and my family and friends and it was just a spiral of bullshit that caused me to doubt my faith. Before my fingers had relaxed comletely, I reached back and grabbed on tighter. Not tonight.

"That's alright" said the voice. "I understand." I knew I had a lot of time to work on this, whatever it was. I guess I thought that if I could just free myself comletely from the body then I could do and go farther than the boundaries of my own imagination. I would become a complete and totally liberated being, fully connected to the source of all things, the universe and what is beyond it. But I had chickened out and stayed in my body as me, instead. Oh well. I really didn't feel too disappointed when I heard the sound of air entering my lungs again, because I had cleaned house a great deal, and still felt the lightness of that weight off my shoulders. I still felt great.

The pain in my stomach was still there but was fading and as I sat up in my chair I placed my hands on my belly in hopes of sending it some love. Sitting up in the chair was like pulling the curtains for the next act of the show. The snakes began to dance but instead of looking for spirits I decided to look at the people around me. I thought about taking in some more but I was also feeling a bit tired. It had been a long night and I had no idea how long it was going to last. I took the stub of the cigarette I had been smoking earlier from a crack in the wooden post next to my head. I smoked it in silence, still wondering if I would have actually died or if I would have come back. I decided, as I watched the serpents slowly slither across the floor in front of me, that I most surely would have returned.

The cigarette flared as I dropped it to the ground. I covered it with my shoe and then sat back and closed my eyes. Again the snakes were accompanied by a wave of enhanced colors and movement like smoke filling the room. It was the mapacho, the tobacco. Juan had been silent for some time now and I yearned for another icaro. The music was obviously propelling the strength and intensity of the visions because by the time he'd finish a set of songs, I'd be wrestling monsters or talking to octopus and by the end of the break in between sets, I'd be back to a state of mild alterations of normal reality. There was definitely something about the music. I loved that so much, that the healing taking place was happening because of music. Of course! It made so much sense. Why do people love music so much? Why is it a central element to a culture? What does music do for us? I finally knew the answer.

It heals.

Now, more than ever, did I feel the need to study with Juan. 'I must become a healer. It is meant for me. My whole life has lead up to this. It is my destiny.' It wasn't going to be easy, that was for certain. But I was going to do it. This I knew for sure. I was going to return to Peru and study with Juan until I could do what he did.
'It might take me my whole life, but I'm gonna do it.'

My determination was at an all time high. I had seen more than enough to convince me that all my limitations were self imposed fantasies and that I was actually free to make all my dreams come true. Hell yeah! I was gonna rock this world. I had no fear. Alright, I had a lot less fear, and I was alive. I was me and I was loving it. The sound of someone vomiting outside filled the dense atmosphere of the dark room as I stared off into space, imagining myself in the future as a shaman's apprentice. I still knew absolutely nothing about shamanism but I knew that I had to follow this path, the path meant for me my entire life.

I put my hand on my stomach again and wondered if I still needed to work on myself. I seemed to be losing my powers, though. I felt I needed Juan to sing, but I couldn't even tell if he was still in the room with us or not. People began getting restless as the gap between sets grew longer. How important that music was to me; it was Pac Man's power pellet, allowing me to destroy the ghosts that might otherwise chase after me. Without those power pellets, the ghosts were beginning to get to us.

I could hear a soft whimper coming from the young woman sitting next to Juan. She was not in her seat, though, she was on the ground. The sound was coming from a place near my feet. She was crying in pain. I listened as she hit the leg of the table in front of Juan with a small bang. She was writhing on the ground, obviously very unhappy. I felt a wave of compassion flow through me. I yearned to help her somehow. I opened my eyes wide and tried to see her or her spirit or whatever I could get from concentrating my attention on her. I could only see the prismatic serpents, moving diagnally across my field of view. Then I decided to close my eyes.

The instant my upper lids made contact with the lower ones, I was no longer in the room in Juan's house. I was now on a dock at the shore of a river, with several boats tied up to different posts of the dock. The woman writhing in pain on the floor was there on the dock as well. She was being carried by four young Peruvian boys. They had wrapped her in a green, silk-like cloth and were carrying her towards me. She looked as though she was dead, and I became frightened that she might be, but as I looked closer I could deduce, somehow, that she was only sleeping, like in a coma. The peruvian boys looked up at me but said nothing. I looked at their faces and from their expressions knew that they wanted my help.

What could I do? I had no idea what I could do, so I did nothing. I apologized with my expression and then watched as these young, indian men carried the woman onto a boat that was tied up right next to me. They set her down in the boat and then looked over at me. I did nothing. We looked at each other as if this was a poorly rehearsed play, and no one knew their lines. The indians then picked up the woman again, carrying her by the green cloth, similar to a hammock. Her body was still and pale. I wanted to help her so much, but had no idea what to do.

I watched as the young men carried the woman from boat to boat, setting her down inside, perhaps hoping the boat would go somewhere, I really don't know. It was an incredibly interesting event to witness, even though I felt a pain in my heart for this woman who seemed to be very ill. She was now crying very hard and I began to pray that something be done, that her pain be healed. I opened my eyes and looked around the room. I sensed that I wasn't the only one concerned about this girl. Maybe someone was wanting to help her and together we could think of what to do. The twelve year old began to cry, as well. Her mother spoke softly to her and she quieted back down, but something needed to be done. Things were starting to get a little heavy in here, and we needed to lighten things up a bit.

Thankfully, our prayers were answered. As the woman cried out in what sounded like physical agony, Juan began to sing an icaro. Feelings of relief flooded over me, cooling down my worries. I knew she'd be alright, now that there was music again. She continued to moan and squirm around on the ground, occasionally bumping into the table. Juan continued to sing calmly, and I tried to focus on the unusual pattern of notes, the long phrases jumping up and down the scale in a series of repetative groups. It took everything I had to follow along without falling behind or trying to get ahead. Before this set of songs, Juan had been singing without any accomponiament, just his warm voice in the still of the dark air. Now, he was hitting the air with a kind of fan made of leaves bound together. It was actually like a small broom, with a handle of stems and a bunch of leaves at the end. He used this instrument, a chakapa, to tap out the basic rhythm of the song. It was a pretty quick tempo: tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap...

I followed his voice and the sound of the chakapa. This icaro was different. I thought it resembled the native american chants I had heard at Pow Wows back in the States. It seemed to carry a more serious tone, and while it was sung, it was also much like a chant. Perhaps it was just the repetative tapping of the leaves, but I felt that this music especially was acting on me in a physical way. I wasn't just listening anymore, I was really feeling it. I followed the sound as it moved up and over the young woman still writhing on the floor. Juan had gotten up from his chair and was standing over her, gently hitting her with the chakapa. She stopped crying. All that could be heard now was the icaro and the chakapa tapping her from head to toe.

The young woman calmed down, taking a deep breath and exhaling it with a sigh. I longed to see what was happening, but I could make out nothing. With my eyes closed, I could no longer see the peruvians, the dock, the boats, or the woman in the green cloth. It was just black. It wasn't a wall of black, more like open space that just went on forever. I concentrated on following the flow of notes. My stomach seemed to be effected by the music, and I felt movement down there. Uh-oh.

I didn't want to puke anymore. I really just wanted to see what Juan was doing to make this woman feel better. He stopped the icaro for a moment to speak to her briefly. She got up off the floor and sat down on the table in front of his chair. He continued the song from where he left off, striking her softly on the head and shoulders with his chakapa. I struggled to keep myself together long enough to witness this entire process. But as the song pushed on, the gastric juices in my stomach began to boil. I wasn't gonna make it. I got up and left quickly, opening the door into my head. It didn't hurt and I chuckled a bit as I stepped into the light of the outside world.

I took another four steps from the door and erupted with an explosion from my mouth. How could I still have so much puke in me? I threw up hard, but not for very long. I was getting better at puking, I guess. After a minute to catch my breath, I walked back inside and took my seat. As I opened the door, the little twelve year old girl and her mother were just about to leave. I looked into the eyes of the mother and tried to smile politely. She composed herself well and responded with a small noise as if to say, 'hello.' When I took my seat, I felt much better. The icaro hadn't ended yet and I immediately went back to following the melody intently. I listened to the last few phrases before the chakapa faded out and the room fell silent once again.

Juan then lit a cigarette. When the lighter flashed I caught a glimpse of his face and the back of the woman's head. As he puffed the cigarette, I could see that he was puting his hand on top of her head. He leaned over the woman and blew a hit of smoke onto her head, saying "sshhhhtook," or something like that, as he blew. He took another drag and again blew it over her head. "Sshhhhtook." He moved his hand down the back of her head as he took another puff on the cigarette. Then he blew smoke down her back, and over her body in front a few times. I could only catch glimpses from the glow of the cigarette, so it was difficult to see exactly what was happening. I just knew that Juan was healing her somehow, with the chakapa and the mapacho smoke. When he had finished blowing smoke on her, the woman got up and sat back down in her chair. The healing sessions had begun.

VIII. Juan Heals
I took a deep breath and tried to sit up straight. I was now very much in control of myself. I could hear a baby crying, off in the distance. Wondering what other people were doing tonight, I realized once again that I was actually here, making my dream a reality. I smiled and listened to a voice inside my head say, "I love you Chip." Things were becoming more and more clear with every minute that passed in this pitch black room in San Juan, Peru. I was starting to understand why I was here... the meaning of my life. More and more of the details of my past made sense to me, and I was beginning to see where I was headed. For once in my life, I knew my path.

As the sound of the baby crying died down, an even more disturbing sound filled my ears. It was the twelve year old girl. She was freaking out outside, screaming like she was being stabbed or like a snake was biting her. It was startling and frightening. I remembered that her mother was out there with her, but I also remembered what I had seen out there, when I was kinda freaking out, too. I felt bad for this little girl. She was definitely not having a good time. Lydia moaned a sympathetic sigh for her. We all wanted her screaming to stop, but there wasn't much we could do. Nor could her mother, and after a short time, the two of them returned. The mother brought her child right up to Juan, who put out his cigarette as they approached.

The girl was hysterical, crying and screaming in a horrible way. The mother held her as she sat on the table in front of Juan. He began to sing. It was another enchanting melody accompanied by the rhythm of the chakapa bouncing across the little girl's head and shoulders. The mother let go of her and went back to her seat. She was going to be fine, now. For a minute she sat in silence, whimpering slightly, as Juan sang the first verse of the icaro. I was so interested in how the music was effecting us and how Juan seemed to alter our states of consciousness through the use of these strange songs. It was such an amazing and beautiful technique.

Then the girl began bugging out, big time. She was obviously seeing something she didn't like. She started screaming in terror, shaking and crying uncontrollably. The woman next to Juan tried to calm her down, saying "sshhh, sshhh" but it was no use, this girl was in a world of hurt. I began to think that perhaps Juan's song wasn't working this time. She seemed to be getting worse. It was agonizing listening to this poor girl freaking out. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on sending her my love and compassion. I began speaking to her with my thoughts, saying "It's alright, don't worry, you'll be fine, everything's o.k. . ." but she continued to scream like she was being attacked by a swarm of pirranah or something. More likely, it was snakes she was seeing. I knew I had seen my share of them that night.

Juan continued to sing as if he knew just what was happening. It was as if he was pulling a demon out from her, coaxing it out of her with the song, and as she was seeing it emerge from inside her, she was going nuts. I would too if I saw some huge snake or creature pulled out of me. She was only twelve years old, too. It must have been terribly frightening for her. She screamed like a well trained horror film actress and I began to get chills listening to her. 'Calm down, little girl, everything will be fine,' I thought. I knew that she would be, too.

After a few minutes, she began to calm down a little, but she had gotten so worked up that she was still choking out cries and gasps and shaking on the table when Juan's icaro came to an end. He immediately began another and just as quickly, the little girl stopped crying. She calmed down completely during this second song, of which Juan only sang a few verses. He then blew smoke on her head, down her back, and onto her chest and hands. When she got up and walked back to her mother, she was like a different person. She seemed stronger, now, although she still fell into her mother's arms once she had sat down. I began to think about my mother, what she must think of me for doing this. She'd think I was crazier than she already thinks I am. Maybe she'd be right.

Juan took a few more drags off the cigarette he'd used for the little girl before putting it out on the dirt floor of the house. Each puff allowed me a tiny glimpse of the scene before me. I could see that several people had their heads down and were in positions that made them look asleep. The indian cheif, sat straight up at attention the entire time, as if he was guarding the door, which was closeby. It was reassuring to think that he was also protecting us. For the most part, we were all just kinda hangin' out. It resembled the morning hours of a keg party, to be honest.

More than anything, the drags lit up Juan's face. I could see his eyes and the way he was composed. He looked very relaxed and calm, yet his eyes were deeper than anything I'd ever seen. They were like the eyes of a deer, just sheer black, seeing without looking. My respect for this man continued to grow. I considered him to be a wise and powerful shaman. I knew that I wanted to study under him. I wanted him to teach me how to heal like that. I wanted more than anything to know the songs and to navigate my way through these alternate dimensions at will. I wanted to become an interdimensional explorer, travelling space through music. It was what I had been unconsciously working towards my entire life, and now I could see my path in clear view. I could also see that if I didn't get up in about ten seconds I was about to barf all over myself.

Once again, I returned to the garden and let loose with a vomit cannon of toxic sludge. I just could not get over how much I was puking. I had literally puked fifteen times in about three hours. Are you kidding? How do you do that? I have no idea. It was obviously the ayahuasca. What that shit was doing in there, that I haven't a clue. So, hunched over again, I hurled another batch of dark green slime onto the dirt beyond my feet. Inside, I could hear Juan asking for me. He was calling my name to come up to the table but I was out here in the garden. I shook as my hands clutched my knees. I could hear Lydia say something, explaining where I was. O.K. One more time. "Oouuaacchh!" There, I was done with this round. I blew my nose into my shirt sleeve because I'd run out of toilet paper and walked back inside.

Juan was healing Lydia. She was sitting on the table and they were talking in spanish. He had asked her what was wrong, what needed healing. She told him that she didn't know. Like a good doctor, Juan was getting to know his patient before doing anything. They spoke for a few minutes, and then Juan came to the conclusion that Lydia had a small problem with many things, a little heart trouble, a little lung problem, a small intestinal condition, stomach issues, etc. He assured her that she would be fine and she told him that she had faith in him.
"Bueno," he replied.

I then watched with eyes as wide as I could get them as Juan sang an icaro for Lydia. I could hear her name in the song as well, which I hadn't noticed with the others. I imagined that with the song, Juan was asking the spirits to help her and so Juan was naming who it was that needed their help. I tried to watch as he moved the chakapa to the rhythm of the song, tapping her head and face. It was so dark, however, that I could hardly tell what I was seeing. I relied mostly on my hearing to provide me with information. My vision seemed to be located in a different place now, other than my eyes. It was inside my mind, like how I see when I dream. I knew that I saw all kinds of stuff in a dream, with my eyes closed the whole time, and being in the trance induced by ayahuasca was a lot like this. It was a dream.

'I think I'm beginning to understand this shit,' I thought to myself. Somehow the music influences the mood and attitude I'm in, allowing me to act in a more conscious way within a dream dimension created by my own mind. Created? No. That doesn't seem right, because it really felt like these were places that I was visiting more than creating. Anyway, I needed to get these songs recorded. People needed to here this music, for sure. I knew that it was important for American people to hear this stuff. It could begin to heal our culture. Lord knows the american culture is sick.

Lydia sat quietly as Juan dusted her off with the chakapa, to the rhythm of yet another, beautiful and exotic melody. I closed my eyes and relaxed. I had made a great deal of progress and I was feeling proud of myself. I knew I had a great deal more work to do but I just wanted to take a little rest before focusing my efforts again. For the first time since I'd drank the vile potion, I actually began to think this experience was enjoyable. I was glad to be there. I knew that I was going to be healed. I had the utmost faith in the power of the spiritual dimension, in God. This night was changing my life forever, and I was loving it.

Juan finished his song and blew smoke on Lydia the same way he did with the others. She thanked him and went back to her chair. Juan smoked the cigarette for a minute before putting it down on the corner of the table. I watched the soft red glow die out on the table as the sound of Lydia flicking a lighter drew my attention away from Juan to the yellow flame that flashed just long enough to light the cigarette hanging from her lips. 'Perhaps I should smoke a cigarette. No, I don't need one right now.'

I leaned back in my chair and extended my legs out. My stomach still hurt and it felt good to lay out like that. I noticed that I often pushed my elbows into my stomach and that I often sat curled up in a ball. Both of these habits were bad for my digestive system, causing it to have a more difficult path to follow. I decided that I needed to make some changes with the way I sat in a chair. I needed to sit more confidently, like a tribal king, or like I had just finished a big Thanksgiving dinner or something. Just relax and sit back with my legs out. Yeah.

"Carlos." Juan was calling me.

I sat back up at attention immediately. "Si?"

He wanted me to come up and sit on the table in front of him. It was my turn, now. As I sat down in front of the wise shaman, he asked if I liked to eat hamburgers. It was kind of a comical question for me because I had recently developed a secret vice which was going to fast food restaurants by myself and eating whoppers and double cheeseburgers. I never used to eat like that and most of my friends didn't either but for some reason I had just gotten into it and now, thousands of miles away from the nearest Burger King, I was being called out by a Peruvian shaman. Wow. So I admitted to having an affinity for burgers and Juan told me to quit, no more burgers. I agreed and laughed with him and several others at his advice. When the laughter had died down, he told me in spanish that I had the capacity to learn the science of plants. He was telling me that I could be a shaman, he could see something in me. I thanked him and told him that I wanted to learn very much. "Bravo," he said.

Then Juan began to sing. He had already sung so many interesting songs, and this one was just as unique. I could hear his voice crystal clear and was very impressed with his singing ability. Somehow, he could smoke unfiltered cigarettes and still sing like a champ. I could see that my previous knowledge and rationalism was proving itself inaccurate. There was a truth, but it wasn't even close to what I had previously believed. I felt I was just beginning to see what it was now, and I was just beginning to realize that all this time that I thought I had had vision, I'd actually been blind and dreamed the whole thing. The leaves of the chapaka gently slapped against my forehead. I was going to figure this shit out if it took my whole life. And it probably will.

I followed the notes as they went back and forth on the scale in a most unpredictable way. Juan moved the chakapa from my head, across my face, down my chest, and stayed on my stomach, tapping at my insides. I began to pray to God that the healing be successful, that my stomach be rid of its difficulties. I wanted to be healthy again, like I was as a child. I leaned back so that the chakapa could strike more of my stomach. I still felt pain down there and hoped that it would go away while I sat there. It didn't, but my confidence rose even further. It might not be instantaneous, but I knew for sure that it would happen. I was gonna leave Peru a new person, a healthy, optimistic man. And I was gonna come back to Peru, soon. I had to.

Juan's singing soothed my spirit as I sat there on the table, feeling the dry leaves brush back and forth across my chest as he moved back up to my head. As he finished the icaro, he tapped the rhythm on my face, my eyes, my nose, my mouth, and then the top of my head. Then he lit a cigarette and stood up. He blew smoke on the top of my head first, just like the others. "Sssshhtook."
Then he pulled my shirt out from the back a little and blew smoke down my spine, inside my shirt. Then he blew smoke over my heart, tapping it lightly afterwards. Then he blew smoke on my stomach. "Sssshhtook." And finally, he took my hands and put them together, as if I was praying, and then blew two puffs over them. He then tapped me on the leg and said, "yah." I was done. I went back to my seat feeling refreshed. I had my second wind now.

Before I had been thinking that I wanted to study shamanism but I hadn't mentioned it to Juan. Now, he had told me straight up that I could be a student of the science. That made me feel so good inside. He had confirmed what I was feeling, making the feeling that much stronger. I really knew that I was going to do this, study shamanism here in the rainforest. Electricity pulsed through me like lightning. I was so energized by that affirmation of my dreams. Reality was whatever I made it.

I began to think that I was a special person. I had been chosen to do something in this life, or I had made the choice, and now I had figured out what that something was. That was huge. Not many people realize this incredibly important information and live their lives in ignorance and confusion. I was not going to be one of those people anymore. I was taking a different path, the path of consciousness. I put my arms around myself and gave me a big a hug. 'You're the bomb,' I whispered.

IX. Getting Down to Business
As one of Lydia's friends went up to sit in front of Juan, I began to listen to Juan's voice even more intently than before. I needed to learn this stuff. As he began his icaro for the young man at the table, I tried to hum along quietly. If I was going to be a shaman, I had better get started as soon as possible. No time like the present. The sound of Juan's chakapa striking the young man's head reminded me of the rolling jazz rhythms I had heard listening to Charlie Parker, Oscar Peterson, and some of the other legends. I loved music so much right now and I began to consider how my study of the trumpet and drum and my ability to read music would be very helpful in learning the icaros. 'That will give me a really good advantage over the others,' I thought.

Just then my arm jumped off the armrest of the chair. I leaned to the right as I regained my composure and then put it back in place. It felt like my arm had just had a spasm of some sort. Weird. I focused in on the maestro's voice again and continuted to hum along softly. The phrases were long but I knew I could learn them. I followed the ups and downs of the melody and tried to concentrate on staying alert and observing. I cleared my throat to get a better tone. It was a beautiful song, and I didn't want to ruin it for anyone, so I tried to sing as softly as I could.

I loved so much that music was the central theme to this healing ceremony. It was all making sense to me, my whole life made perfect sense. I was to be a healer, plain and simple. I loved music, singing, dancing, and performing with the drum. I also had an affinity for psychedelics and the supernatural realm. I had studied philosophy and art and knew how to express myself well. My father was an electrical engineer and brilliant inventor, giving me the confidence in my own abilities and a mind capable of solving difficult problems with imaginative ideas. My mother was a nurse, putting the lives of others in front of her own sometimes, rarely getting paid what she deserved but doing it for the service it provided to her community. A smile spread across my face. I was rejoicing my realization of the meaning of my life. It was an incredible feeling.

'I am more prepared to become a shaman than anyone elso here,' I thought. I had just gone through in my head the qualities a good shaman should possess and I was confident that I possessed them all.

Just then, my arm jumped off the armrest again. It was such a weird feeling. It literally felt like it was connected to my thought. As I regained my posture in the chair, I wondered if my body was reacting to my thoughts somehow. I reflected back to the thought just before my arm twitched. It was a thought about me being a better shaman than the rest of the people here. That's a pretty egotistical thought. I really shouldn't be thinking like that. Again I smiled at the idea that I was being kept in check by some force within, or perhaps it was the spirit of ayahuasca speaking to me. I had my eyes closed so I opened them for a moment. Juan had lit a cigarette and was blowing smoke onto the young man's head. I watched carefully to see if Juan was doing anything else besides blowing the smoke. I watched where he put his hands and how he stood, all in the glow of his cigarette as he smoked it.

Soon, Lydia's friend was back in his chair and the room was silent. I pondered the role of the ego in this ceremony. I had been at war with my ego for many years, always trying to keep it at bay while it sought to establish myself as a 'superior being.' I knew that the ego was important in maintaining self esteem but I never understood why it had to go so far. There was a big difference between confidence and cockiness. Here, in the dream state, however, the ego took a new form. It was still providing me with self esteem, but I also carried the belief that no matter how big and ugly and scary the demons I encountered were, I was still more powerful than them. If I didn't think this way, I might be defeated by them. Healing was only possible to those with a strong ego.

Of course. I was formulating a theory about the importance of the ego in our culture at a time when the spirit was still recognized, and how the ego's role in this culture has changed as the concept of the spirit faded into scientific rationalism. I decided that the ego was not meant for the physical dimension, but rather it was to protect us in the spiritual dimension, where conquering our foes is a necessity and the belief that we are more powerful than anything helps immensly. I remembered what Juan had said at the beginning of the ceremony. He had told us that he feared nothing except for god, because only god could harm him. I nodded to myself in realization.

Could it be that this ego that had bothered me for so long was actually going to be my savior? Was it actually possible that I needed my ego to be big like it was? I became excited. Not only had I studied music and had experience with psychedelics and loved to sing, but I had a big ego to boot. It all spelled shaman. I knew even more so, down in the depths of my soul, that I was to follow the path of the shaman. I had opened my eyes, and now the light was shining down. It was beautiful. I began thinking about my ego and how big it was.
'With the size of my ego, I could defeat anything,' I thought. 'I have the biggest ego out of anybody here.'

Then my arm fell off again. It was such an unusual feeling, like it was just being pushed from behind. I knew for sure that it was related to my thoughts concerning the ego. The feeling was so real, though, that I actually turned around in my chair just to make sure there wasn't a person really pushing my arm off the rest. I knew from thinking about it, that there couldn't be anyone there. I would have heard them walk up to me, and besides, who would be doing this to me? Well, when I turned around to look, I saw, plain as day, the spirit of a man standing behind me. He was a spirit, composed of sparkling colored lights, yet he resembled a white man with long hair and a beard. He was a beautiful being and I looked at him in awe. Who was this?

I did not recognize him so I put out my hand and asked what his name was. He took my hand and leant down to my ear to whisper, "Jesus" in spanish. I heard his name and looked back at his face, astonished. He stood back up and smiled down at me.

"You're Jesus?" I asked, with my mind. "You're really Jesus?" He just nodded.
"Well, it is a pleasure to meet you!" I said taking his hand again and shaking it. Then he put up his hand with his pinky slightly bent and faded away. It was the most exciting thing in the world. I had just shook hands with Jesus. I touched my face as I tried to comprehend what had just happened. Waves of emotion flowed over me and a tear slowly meandered down the side of my cheek. I was moved in a way that I had never felt before. I felt the warmth of a hug from the entire universe. It felt truly wonderful; pure love.

I don't think I had a thought for the next few minutes. I just sat there, basking in the glow of universal love, saturating my soul. I had just shaken hands with Jesus Christ. That was a moment I will never forget. A childlike innocence swept over me. The world was a brand new place for me now. It was more mysterious and miraculous than I could have ever possibly imagined. Whatever I thought I knew, I now accepted as a belief. There was nothing to know, yet everything to learn. I thanked God for allowing me to feel this, for bringing me down here to Peru, and for showing me the meaning of my life, and of life itself. Love poured out of me and back into me, radiating into my soul and outward into the universe. All was bliss. All was bliss.

Sitting there in my white, plastic chair, I considered the concept of visiting with spirits. I had communicated with them using my mind, telepathically. I wondered if I could focus my intention on visiting with a specific spirit and thus travel to wherever and see and speak with them. I felt quite certain that this was possible. It seemed like as long as I could imagine it, it was possible. I immediately considered visiting with Buddha. But for some reason, I decided that he must be bombarded with visits and because I didn't have a real reason to see him, I shouldn't bother him. Perhaps I could feel his compassion just by thinking about him, and wanted to let him be in peace. My mind raced as I tried to pick someone else to visit.

Bob Marley. It was so simple. Many times I had thought about who I'd most like to have seen in concert: Jimi, Miles, and of course, Bob. Since I'd been in Peru, I'd heard more Bob Marley songs than anything else. His music is like a global peace movement. I grew up with it, danced to it, smoked herb to it, drove my car to it, went to sleep with it. If there was anyone I'd like to bring back, it would be him. He helped to build a cultural perspective that may save the human race. I wanted to visit Bob Marley, to say thank you for letting me know there was a path to follow.

So, I started saying in my mind, 'I want to see Bob Marley,' over and over again. I closed my eyes and entered an infinitely deep black void, like outer space. There were no snakes, no spirits, nothing. I was just calling out to Bob, expressing my intentions to the universe. I called many times with great determination. After a short time, a spirit appeared, walking out of the darkness into the area a few feet in front of me. It was Bob Marley. Even though I had just been calling to him, I couldn't believe my eyes. I knew it was him, but I was still frozen. I fumbled to say something, mumbling in broken spanish that it was an honor to meet him. Why was I speaking in spanish? no idea. Bob put up his hand and said, "Ya man, ya," nodding and smiling gently. I loved him more than ever.

'Bob doesn't speak spanish, silly,' I reminded myself. Then Bob waved goodbye and laughed a little as he turned and walked away. He knew I didn't need him for anything. I giggled a little too, thinking about how dumbfounded I'd become. 'What a cool guy Bob was,' I thought. He really was. And I had just met him. I really felt like I had just met the one and only Bob Marley. It was totally awesome and I wanted more. I wanted to visit with another spirit, another good one like Bob. I started thinking about the people that I'd looked up to over the years, the ones who had played important roles influencing my life. I quickly decided on who it should be.

Babatunde Olatunji was a truly remarkable man. He introduced the western world to tribal African rhythms with an album called 'Drums of Passion' back in 1969 and ever since has taught the world the ancient music of his homeland. I had seen him in concert twice. I purchased my first drum a few weeks after seeing him perform at the University of Massachusetts. He was more than just a musician. He was a spiritual leader who used the drum to express the truth of universal energy. His message was 'love, love, love.' He touched my soul in a similar way as Bob had. He had passed two days after I arrived in Peru. I felt I would need to travel to visit him rather than call him to me. I looked up to him like a teacher and had a tremendous amount of respect for him and everything he had done for me and humankind itself.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on going to see Babatunde. I saw myself flying through the infinite blackness of the outer reality, or whatever it was. Soon I arrived at a set of stairs with a very large, fat man sitting on the steps. It didn't look like Babatunde, who was actually a small, skinny man, but I knew that it was him in spiritual form. I knew he had a powerful spirit and I assumed that this was how his spirit looked. I took a seat on a stair beneath him and put my arm on his knee, looking up at him in admiration. I loved him. As I looked at him, He began to transform, similar to the way the monsters would. He didn't turn into a monster though. Instead, he shifted into a gorgeous pegasus, flapping its wings, then into a beautiful orchid, then petals of color poured out of it as it morphed through animals and plants and drums and people. It was an unbelievable display, making today's cinematic special effects look simple.

I stared at this moving miracle or shapes and figures as it danced right in front of my face, brushing up against me as colors swirled around to reconfigure Babatunde's spirit into another lion or blooming vine. It was like he was showing me what he could do, performing for me in another dimension. I was loving it. Then Babatunde took the form of a horse and somehow pulled me on top of him. I wasn't riding him, however. He was trying to have sex with me. It wasn't normal sex at all, but it definitely felt like sex. I decided my love for him had gone too far and now was turning sexual. I wasn't down with it. I pushed away and politely said, 'no.' Then I moved away from him quickly and decided it was time to leave. I wasn't mad, just a little confused.

'So Babatunde likes sex,' I thought. Not a big deal. It was quite interesting to me how the spirits seemed to have very distinct personalities and powers. Possibilities were endless now, at least in this dimension of reality. Everything I had read or heard but didn't believe now needed reconsideration. I was open to just about anything right about now. I wanted to take advantage of the situation at hand. I thought I should visit with someone else, or I should learn something that I could only learn in this state. My mind raced through all the opportunities that lay before me. Whatever I could think to do, I could do. But what should I do?

I wasn't really considering anyone or anything in particular, it was more like I had spun a wheel like on Wheel of Fortune, and I was just waiting for the wheel to stop. Then it hit me... the Akashik Hall of Records. I would go to the Akashik Hall of Records and look up the book of my life. It was a beautiful idea. I was already excited just thinking about it. I rocked side to side as I quickly imagined what it would take for me to get there. This was a mythical place, afterall. I had only been there once before, and it took a far out, time-warp trip to get there. Plus, I had been brought there by two spirits who already knew the way.

I first learned of the Akashik hall of records when reading some Buddhist literature in college. I had read that it was a library that contained a record of every single thing that had ever happened or will ever happen, but it existed in a different dimension. Buddhist monks could access this omnipotent place through determined meditation techniques, and I guess it had something to do with DMT, a chemical produced in the pineal gland of the human brain. The first time I had visited this place was after smoking Dimethyltriptamine, DMT, in my room and was visited by two spirits who took me there. They had shown me a page from the book of my life. It was a powerful experience to say the least.

Now I was going to have to get there on my own. With my eyes closed, inside the other dimension, I crouched down and, after gathering energy, leapt straight up into the sky. It was something I had just seen done, weeks earlier at a movie theatre in Lima. In the Matrix II, Neo, or Mr. Anderson, had leapt up with such force that he cracked the cement beneath him. I was rocketing myself upward in the same fashion. I launched through outer space and in almost no time at all I had arrived at the Akashik Hall of Records. I was so confident in my abilities in this dimension that I wasn't even that surprised that I had made it. I was positive that determined intentions were the true essence of reality, and it was how to do things in the spiritual dimension. It was my determination that had gotten me there.

Why I didn't use the door, I had no idea. To enter into this incredible place, I had just flown right up to it, aparantly floating in empty space, and burst through the floor, head first. I now found myself halfway through the floor of a very old library. I felt horrible for putting a hole through the floor. I climbed out and began looking around for someone. I felt that I must have made a loud noise and I did just put a hole in the floor. There was no one anywhere. 'Doesn't anybody work in this place?' I thought. There were pieces of the floor lying around and a cloud of dust was settling on the marble floor. Did I just ruin the floor of the Akashik hall of records?

Just then a little boy appeared, who I quickly took to be some sort of library attendant. I apologized prophetically for the hole and explained that I simply didn't know what I was doing. I said that if he would simply show me the door I would know how to get in the next time I visited. He looked up at me quizically and then said,
"What's a door?" I couldn't decide if it was the most profound answer I had ever heard or if this kid just didn't know what a door was. I looked down at him and smiled. I knew this boy. He wasn't the attendant of this library at all. This was the boy who carried the octopus in my bag for me. I hadn't noticed before because I had been looking for an attendant and wasn't expecting to see him up there.

Here he was though, and he didn't know what a door was. I kneeled down and rubbed the black hair on his head. He was a cute kid. In spanish, I asked him what his name was. He said it was 'Carlito.' I felt that he was my new assistant or helper, kinda like the young girl who had helped me before. I dusted myself off a bit as I walked towards a row of books nearby. I looked back at the hole and watched it heal itself back to normal, good as new. I should've known. I began heading for the spot that I remembered the book of my life being in from before. The library looked much different, however, and I wondered if it was the same place. The first time I had been here, it looked very clean and sterile, with infinite stacks of file cabinets in rows that went on as far as I could see. The book of my life had actually been the folder of my life, a manila folder in one of the file cabinets. The page I'd seen was just a piece of paper in a stack. This place was like a much more imaginative and creative version of the same idea. It did seem to have an end, or at least walls, but still felt infinite. It was rather unkept, however, with tons of cobwebs around. It didn't seem like anyone had visited this place in a long time.

I began to concentrate on finding the book of my life. I steered myself down one row and then another and then I stopped and looked up. There, in a green jacket, was the book of my life. I reached up and pulled the book off the shelf. Ten million questions rushed through my head as I inspected this astonishing item. It was not a new book and it was covered with a light grey dust. I wiped it off a little with my hand. I wanted to see what the title was. It didn't say anything on the cover, yet when I opened it, the first page read, "THIS IS THE BOOK OF YOUR LIFE". I decided to start from the beginning. I turned to the next page to begin reading the book of my life.

The page was blank. The next page was blank, too. I quickly surmised that every page of the book was blank. Nothing. Nada. I put it back on the shelf and wondered if you aren't allowed to read the book of your life. But I had seen at least one page of it before, hadn't I? I then wondered if the words, or whatever they were, were present on the page but I didn't have the ability to see them or read them or understand them, because I lacked the determination to find the information. This seemed to make more sense. I didn't really want to learn anything in particular about my life. What I wanted to learn the most about was this crazy drink I had taken that caused this life changing experience to occur. I wanted to read about Ayahuasca.

I began going deeper into the library, towards the darkest corner I could see. I needed to find one of the oldest books I could on Ayahuasca, to learn where it came from and how it did what it did. I pushed aside cobwebs to enter a dim alcove in the farthest corner of the library. There were cobwebs everywhere, and I carefully climbed through to a wall of books at the back. Down on the bottom shelf, encased in dust and cobwebs, was the book I was seeking, an ancient text on Ayahuasca. I picked up the book and wiped it down carefully. This book had been around, that was for sure.

It had a ragged, rough leather cover. It was an old book, older than the word book. I brought it out into a better lit area of the library to examine it more. It was large, probably two feet tall and five inches thick. This was no one day read. Despite the cover being well worn, the pages were in excellent shape. I knew that this book was going to teach me a great deal, and that I would be coming back to read it on a regular basis as I learned the science of plant spirit medicine. I decided that I would mark this incredibly important book so that I could find it easier the next time. I quickly produced what I thought was melted red wax, with which I made the letter 'C' in the upper corner of the leather jacket.

Then I opened the book and began to read the first page. It was the history of the miraculous medicine, Ayahuasca. I read quietly with great interest. The story began at a time when humans were like animals. We were still evolving into conscious beings. Our spirit commanded our bodies to move around on the earth, working towards that evolutionary development. When the human mind had reached a certain point, the spirits of these humans left their bodies and went off into the forest. The human bodies left behind had evolved to such a high degree that they could take care of themselves, but they could no longer develop further, without the guidance of the spirit. To help them along, the spirits had left the ayahuasca vine.

The book went on to tell how for generations, the humans evolved slowly, ingesting and learning from the ayahuasca vine. This continued for some time, so long that the humans had forgotten that their spirits even existed. They were learning from the vine how to take care of themselves, to treat diseases and to prepare food. They were also learning how to communicate. The vine was speaking to the humans and the humans were learning her language. Once the humans had learned how to speak, the ayahuasca vine was able to tell them the truth about their spirits, that they were real and hiding in the forest. The wise vine instructed the humans to seek out the plant chacruna and to ingest it with the ayahuasca. Then, they would find their spirits again. They went out into the forest and found the chacruna plant, just like the vine had said. The humans combined the plants and created the psychotropic brew, ayahuasca. Once again, the human spirit resided within the physical body.

It was all so beautiful. I wanted to read the whole thing, but I decided that I would come back later, when I was better prepared, and do more reading. I put the book on a pedestal near a large window that was too dusty to see through. I left it open and then headed back to Juan's. I opened my eyes and looked around. I was back in the room, listening to Juan dust off another patient with his chakapa. It was as simple as that. I felt a surge of exhilaration travel up my spine and I began to laugh a little, remembering how embarrassed I'd been when I crashed my head through the floor. I never did find the door.

X. My Father Comes to Peru
I listened again as Juan sang a healing Icaro for the next person. I couldn't tell who it was. I hummed along but found that it was difficult to hum and concentrate on doing something or going somewhere in the other dimension. I didn't know the melody so I needed to focus on listening to it and following along and couldn't give my attention to anything else. I continued to sing along, but soon desired to go somewhere again and visit someone else, to learn more before it was all over. I let my voice soften to a hush and then began to settle in to the other dimension. It was a meditation all its own, ayahuasca meditation. I gathered my determination and then pointed it at my next destination: George Bush.

I concentrated on going to see G. W., the current president of the United States, to perhaps learn what the hell he was trying to do. I soon found myself flying like superman through the air. I had no idea where I was, I just knew it was where I'd find George. After a short time, I stopped travelling and began waiting. The president is a busy man, I guess. He was in a meeting with the Chinese government so I had to wait for him to finish. I wondered why he would be meeting with them. It wasn't long, though before he was standing right in front of me. As I shook his hand, I focused my intent on discovering the purpose of his meeting with the Chinese. What I discovered was quite bizarre.

The U.S. and China are planning a third world war. At least that is what seemed to be the message I was getting. It was to be the war of all wars, Good vs. Evil. It would be the most dramatic, exciting, heroic, emotional war ever known on this planet, and it would be marketed and advertised and campaigned on a global scale so that every nation would be involved. And in the process, Georgie and his friends were going to get very, very rich. The war was going to make them unbelievably rich, through investments in the companies that make all the weapons and bombs.

But it wasn't actually as greedy as it seemed. There was some sort of noble cause involved, for the money was to go to the construction of a space station in outer space. This space station was somehow going to help humankind in a major way, and many of the major decisions in world politics had been steering us in this direction. We need to live in outer space, for some reason. As I wondered what the heck was going on in the world, George faded out and I came back to Peru, to Iquitos, to Juan's house. His icaro had ended and he and the chief of the Ichwari tribe, Ramone, were talking. I leaned back in my chair and put my hands on my stomach. I was feeling much better.

I took a deep breath and sent a few good thoughts out to George, telling him that I loved him. I could see that he was just fulfilling his role in the destiny of the Earth. A deeper level of relaxation than I'd known in a long time settled within me. I was at peace and I was in love with the marvels of this mysterious universe that I was so humbled to be a part of. It was like music to my hears, literally. I saw myself as a contributing member of an enormous, epic project, one that would come to fruition in my lifetime. It was very exciting, and frightening, considering that it could be a violent war.

'Perhaps the Hopi indians were right,' I thought, recalling the message I had gotten from my interaction with George. In college, I had watched a video about the Hopi indians from the southwestern states. They were a tribe of indians who had had visions of the future, predictions that had come true. The shamans of their tribe, after ingesting peyote, had seen visions of the first and second world wars. They had tried desperately to make the governments of the world aware of their visions, but the United States had refused them a seat in the United Nations.

The video was about a recent vision the Hopis had had of the third world war, what they referred to as the great cleansing of the earth. The vision was of the world covered in cobwebs and a house up in the sky. 'When the earth is covered in cobwebs and a house is in the sky, the great cleansing of the earth will occur.' Wow. That seemed to fit pretty well now didn't it? And if it was to coincide with the Mayan prophecies about 2012 and the end of the fifth and final world, perhaps there was only a decade or so left before our reality experiences a serious metamorphosis. Things were getting a little eerie. 'Why did I go see George Bush?' I thought.

I wondered why I hadn't gone to see my family or friends. I guess I thought I needed to really make it count. I decided to visit my mother. I felt confident enough now that I thought I could help her. As we all sat in silence, I closed my eyes and concentrated on visiting my mother. Within seconds she was there, or I was there. We were there together, wherever we were. But I couldn't touch her. She was being protected by some sort of force field. It was like a prison cell, locking her in but protecting her as well, I guess. I tried to reach through it to touch her but it was too much for me. I watched her sleep and realized that she was actually quite ill. She lacked faith and she was deteriorating from the inside out. A great sadness came over me because I knew that I had contributed to this deterioration. I now felt a great need to improve my relationship with my mother.

I envisioned a family reunion when I returned. I wanted to let everyone I loved know that I loved them. I wanted to hug the earth, to spread love throughout the universe, to heal the world. I knew how important it would be for me to help my mom and help myself too. I vowed to be more communicative and to let her know what was going on in my life, so that she could become more involved in it. I forgave her for everything she had ever done that hurt me. I understood that she didn't mean to hurt me ever, that she loved me. And I loved my mother.

I thought about visiting my brothers but decided instead to go see my father. He had been having problems with his stomach as well and I thought that perhaps if I could bring him down here to the ceremony, than Juan could heal him. I thought that would be so cool, too, to go get my father and show him what I was doing down here. It was decided that II would go to Massachusetts, get my dad, and bring him back here to the ceremony so that Juan could heal him. I thought this was probably a difficult task, requiring a great deal of concentration, so I opted to wait for another icaro before I headed out for my father's house.

As I sat waiting for Juan's next healing session to begin, a motorcycle started up close to the house. It blared loudly as the driver reved the engine several times before driving off into the night, followed by a symphony of dogs barking. It was a little wake up call for a couple of the people here who had fallen asleep. For me, it was a reminder that the real world is very close by, and that not everyone spends their saturday nights this way. I wished they did.

When the noise had calmed down and the only symphony was the crickets again, Juan called for another patient to recieve healing. To the sounds of footsteps walking towards the table, I entered into the meditative dream state I'd become accustomed to. After a few words with the young woman, Juan began to sing. It was actually a song I recognized. He had sung it earlier in the night, but now it was slower and more expressive. I let the icaro fade into the background as I focused on travelling to see my dad. I continued to concentrate on going to my Dad's house as a vision began to crystallize before me.

I was flying over the Gulf of Mexico, soaring quickly over the water, then up the coast of the U.S. and over New England. I wondered how I would see his house for a moment, then quickly realized that I would simply will myself to it, which I did with no problem. I soared down towards the green of the trees until I could see the city and recognize buildings. Just like that I was at the front door of my father's house. If only travelling was that easy. I opened the door and walked inside. The lights were on and my father was right there, greeting me with a big smile. I gave him a hug and then shook his hand, saying to him,"You are my friend," in spanish. It didn't seem like much but that was a wonderful moment. I don't think I had ever considered my father as a friend. It was a shift in perspective with very positive results. My dad was now my friend.

I told my father that I wanted him to come down to Peru with me and to see Juan. He wasn't into it. He whined about having too much work to do and this and that, but I persisted. Eventually, he grudgingly agreed to go. I grabbed his arm and we quickly flew off towards South America. I was so happy to have accomplished my task, I began thinking about whether or not I should have told Juan that I was bringing my dad with me. Did it make a difference? I didn't know. My thoughts began to drift off to memories of the octopus and the eggs. 'What a crazy night,' I thought. I began to look down into the void. I had forgotton about my father and the whole trip.

I opened my eyes and looked at my hands. I could see them in the dark, yet they weren't glowing. I was developing a sort of night vision. While I still couldn't quite see Juan at the table, I could see myself, my hands and legs. My eyes were just getting used to seeing energy and light, even in the void of darkness, I suppose.

'What about Dad?' I had completely spaced. 'Oh yeah,' I smiled as I caught myself zoning out, 'My Dad.' I had to fly all the way back to his house and get him again. This time I wouldn't lose track of what I was doing. Instantaneously I was above the New England states again, descending onto my father's home. He was inside but we didn't greet each other as endearingly this time. I simply apologized for forgetting about him, took him by the hand and we were off again. I concentrated on flying back to Peru with my father, and I found I needed to focus both on him by my side and flying back to South America, which seemed to be taking quite a long time.

I again found myself recalling earlier events from the ceremony. I remembered the UFO and how I needed to ask Juan for more information about that. I tried to make a mental picture of the spacecraft, so that I could maybe draw it later on. I didn't think I would ever forget something like that, but still I wanted to make sure I had it accurately imprinted in my memory. I began to wonder if perhaps the ships reflected light that was beyond our visible spectrum, like ultraviolet light, or infrared, and that we couldn't see them normally. But if our pupils were enlarged, letting more light in than usual, perhaps we could increase the visible spectrum for a moment and see the entities that reflect this light, another dimension of reality for us, who can't see under normal circumstances. It was an interesting theory, but I felt that the mind had a powerful influence in the construction of what we call reality as well, and that what we see is also a process of what we think. I certainly had no comprehension of what the hell was going on, but I definitely wanted to understand.

One thing was for sure, however. I had forgotten my dad again. I was just drifting off into the void of darkness, lost in abstract thought. I was nowhere, perhaps existing in the abstraction itself, whatever that means. Anything was possible, right? I decided, with great determination, that I would not give up on my pops and that I would succeed in bringing him back down to Peru. I sat up straight in my chair and pulled all the attention I had away from wherever it was and held it all in, concentrating the beam of focus until I was ready to burst. Then I launched myself like a missile, rocketing over the earth in a heartbeat, over to my father's house in Massachusetts. I needed to travel fast like this, I thought, to make it easier to bring him back.

I again greeted my dad with an apology and said that I was sure we would make it this time. He seemed more agreeable and perhaps realized that he could help me out be going willingly. Or perhaps he had gotten used to me trying to drag him down and decided it was no use resisting. Either way, the two of us headed off with great speed back to Peru. I had my arm around my father's shoulder and held his hand with my other hand. We were going to make it. I watched as the eastern United States rolled by beneath us, occasionally blocked by whisps of clouds. Then it was the ocean and waves and rough water for miles. Then the jungle. We were almost there. Central America skipped by and we began to descend into the Amazon rainforest. We had made it. Juan's house appeared out of the intense green and we found ourselves inside. The ceremony was still going on.

I held my father tightly still, making sure he wouldn't leave. We sat together as Juan's icaro ended and another began. I listened to the icaro for a while, checking on my father often to see how he was doing. He seemed to be very interested in what was going on and paid a lot of attention to what Juan was doing. I was happy to see that I hadn't caused my father any trouble bringing him down. He was actually enjoying it. I thought that perhaps I would try to heal my father myself. I took a step back and began to inspect his stomach. I could not see inside so I couldn't tell if there were any squid or furry little mongrels in there, but I felt an intuition, a certain voice from within spoke to me while I analyzed my father's condition.

It said that what my father had, his father had had, and that my brothers and I all had it, and our children would have it. I don't know what this thing that we all had was, but that it may have caused the death of my grandfather, which had always been a mystery. I began to think that it was very important that I help my family to rid themselves of this affliction. As I sat, looking at my father's belly, I pondered how I could help them when I returned. I knew that I would start by telling them about my experiences, but that unless they believed me, it would become difficult to continue from there. And this stuff wasn't exactly easy to believe. I wished there was some way to prove my experiences were true, but I could hardly believe them myself.

As I considered whether or not I would even believe this stuff happened in a few months, I noticed that there were some vines coming out of the bottom of my father's belly. I instinctively decided to follow them. I grabbed one of the vines and pulled myself along it, down underwater. I was soon swimming along like a diver, trying to find the end of the vine. Down to the bottom of wherever I was, to where the vine, or, I should say, root, entered the ground. I then, with a strong grip, took hold of this root and pulled it out of the ground. It pulled out with some effort and sat on the ocean floor motionless. It looked like the tail of some sort of fish. It seemed alive like an animal, too, but yet it was a vine, or root, or whatever. I went back to the surface and found another vine coming from my dad's stomach.

I followed this vine down to a place very similar to the first. They all seemed to be planted in the same, aquatic world. I pulled that vine out just like the first. They both seemed to be the same type of plant or plant like thing and they were both the same size. When I returned to find the next vine, which would be the last one, I immediately noticed that this one was different. It was older, thicker and seemed to almost resemble a tree more than a vine. It was still planted in the same place as the others, though, and when I got down to the bottom, I again tried to yank it out of the ground. In my mind, I was pulling the roots of his suffering. I was healing his wounds at their source. This vine seemed to be the root of an affliction that he had had for quite some time, and it was the source of much suffering.

I couldn't pull it out, no matter how hard I tried. It wouldn't budge. It was like trying to pull a young tree out of the ground. I could hardly get my hands around it. I gave it one more try and then went back up to get my father. Somehow the two of us both went back down and together, we were able to pull the sucker out. It felt good to do, even though the animal nature of this one was even more pronounced. It was kinda eerie, looking at what appeared to be the tail of an animal, slimy like a fish, lying lifeless on the ocean floor. I knew inside that it was a good thing, though, and as we returned to our seats in the ceremony I truly felt as though my father would feel better in the morning. I knew I would. My stomach was healed, or at least, was healing. But I still felt I had something wrong with me. My stomach wasn't the only thing troubling me before I came down here. I had had a problem for years but could never quite put my finger on it. I knew it had held me down and prevented me from fulfilling my true potential and I longed to find its roots and pull them out forever.

I looked down at my own belly the way I had inspected my father's. Sure enough, there was a vine coming out of the bottom of my stomach. Well, whad'ya know? I quickly grabbed a hold of it and began following it down. I was gonna pull this sucker out and be done with it. This was gonna solve a problem I had had for years. I was actually gonna do it. Good. I confidently travelled down into the water, down through the earth, through the water again, then back into the earth. I considered just cutting it, but I was determined to see what was at the end of it. I simply had to take it to the end, or else it would grow back. Then I followed that fucking vine out of the earth into outer space. It had been a journey and it was now at its end.

At the end of this vine, out in the midst of the black of outer space, stars twinkling off in the distance, was perched a prehistoric teradactyl. That's right, a fucking teradactyl was holding on to the end of this root, which was just floating out in space. I quickly recognized this thing to be the demon that had plagued me my whole life, and most likely had bothered me for lifetimes before that. This creature, this ancient reptilian bird, with armor like a scorpion, was the root of my problems, and I wasn't just going to 'pull' this out. I was going to destroy it.

An anger and a fury rose within me as a machete materialized in my hand. I stepped forward and sliced through the beast with a mighty blow, then another, and another. I cut this thing up like a thanksgiving turkey, until there were just a bunch of teradactyl strips floating aimlessly around in a cloud before me. The teradactyl was no more. But I wasn't satisfied with my work. I wanted to destroy every detail of this thing, to anialate it completely. So I pulled a laser out of my pocket and began zapping the pieces into dust. When I was finished, there was nothing left but a wisp of particle dust in the dark void. Whatever it was, it was not coming back. I was now truly healed. Life would never be the same again, of this I was sure.

I opened my eyes to the patterns of snakes filling the room. Juan's icaro had ended and there was no one left to heal. The ceremony was coming to a close. I looked over to see if my father was still there, and he was, watching attentively with respect. I shook his hand and told him that he could go home. He smiled and thanked me for bringing him down, that it was all very interesting. I thanked him for coming and then he dissolved into the darkness. I relaxed into my chair and let myself drift off into the silence. The snakes slithered slowly across the scene, the stage of my mind. Then the curtains were pulled and another act of the play was beginning. A horse drawn carriage trotted in from backstage. More of a cart, I suppose, filled with little people, just rolled right up and stopped in front of me.

It was like something from the Lord of the Rings, little hobbits in a fairy tale cart, all of them smiling and in good spirits. In good spirits... interesting. They were obviously here to visit me because one of them quickly produced an old brown jug and proceeded to pour a cup of something and handed it to me. I somehow knew that it was ayahuasca, just like the aliens who had given me a cup of something earlier in the night. I took the cup and drank it down. It had no taste but I could feel the liquid move down my throat and into my stomach. I gave the cup back to the little tyke and he immediately poured me another cup. He poured cups for the others, probably five in all, and we all drank together. It was totally cool. I felt like I was drinking ayahuasca with spirits from the ayahuasca realm. I guess they drank it too.

Aparantly, they drank a lot of it, because we had round after round of the stuff and I began to wonder if I should consider stopping. Afterall, it had been a long night and I didn't know if I was about to get blown away by this stuff and be awake for the next two weeks, bugging out or something, or what was gonna happen. But I trusted my new friends and just kept puttin 'em back like lemonade. I probably drank fifteen cups before I was fully saturated. Everyone was all smiles and laughter the whole time. It was a little party, yet it seemed like it was what everyone did each afternoon. We were just enjoying ourselves. It was all so natural, as if I had been doing this all my life. Perhaps I had been.

I had always believed in enjoying life. I know that everyone would say that, but I put a great deal of time and energy into devising methods that would allow for me to enjoy my life even more. One of those methods was to keep a small group of memories set aside that were particularly funny and would make me smile to remember them. They were specific stories that I kind of kept on a special shelf in my mind, for when I needed them. Then, if I was feeling depressed I could just take one off the shelf and remember how much I enjoyed life. It was a tool for increasing my happiness, and it worked. They were also helpful for other people, for the stories could be told and while they may have had a more intense connection to my life, they were still capable of creating smiles in others.

One such story involved an old friend of mine from gradeschool, Christian. We were in fifth grade and it was just a few minutes before the end of school one day. Our teacher at the time used to let us play a game, if we were good students that day, to pass the last few minutes before the final bell rang to go home. To play the game, we would all sit indian style on top of our desks and throw this little nerf ball around. If you threw it poorly or too hard, then you had to sit down in your chair. And if you didn't catch it when it was thrown to you, then you had to sit down. It was a fun game to play, especially because we were playing it in school, and that day we were deeply involved in a close match. The winner, you see, would recieve a piece of candy from the teacher, so there was a little incentive to put some energy into your effort.

With two minutes left on the clock, a young girl meekly tossed the ball over to my friend Christian. It was a dangerously low throw, one that might have cost her the game, but Christian went for it, determined to make the grab. All eyes were on the ball as it floated down towards the ground. Christian leaned way over and reached way down, and just as the ball touched his hands, he let out a big fart. As his hands clenched the ball, the hush silence of the room erupted in laughter. Now remember, this is fifth grade. Farting is still one of the funniest things in the world, and at this moment, everyone of us knew exactly why this fart had come out. It was an accident. Christian had put so much effort into getting that ball that the fart had slipped out unintentionally.

Christian began laughing, too. It was just something that had happened. But it wasn't over. Because while we were all laughing, Christian was still hunched over, gripping the ball with his arms stretched out towards the floor. He then proceeded to let out another fart and this one launched him right off the desk and he fell onto the floor. It was one of the funniest things I had ever seen, and the whole classroom broke apart with tears of laughter. Even my teacher was laughing. Christian was curled up on the floor in a fit of laughter, as well. The game could not even continue. We had just caused such a raucus that the teacher from across the hall came over.

"What is going on in here?" She asked, thinking we had taken over the class in a mutiny of some sort. Everyone replied with a wave of screams and guffaws, considering the correct answer to her question. It was just too much. Our teacher assured her that everything was under control and not to worry. He would tell about it later. When the bell rang to go home, we were all still laughing. Everyone in the school heard about it before we even got on the buses to go home that day. It was easily one of the funniest moments of my life, and I still smile when I think of it.

Perhaps tonight would be a moment to remember, as well, a memory to put on a special shelf and use when needed. If I begin to lose faith in the universe, begin to get down on the world and my life, I could remember this night and know that the universe really is taking care of things, and that life is far more mysterious than I could possibly imagine. Knowing that I had seen what I'd seen, and done what I'd done tonight, this memory would be a great one to hold on to. But how could I possibly forget about this stuff? It didn't seem possible. As the cart with the hobbits pulled away and I waved goodbye, I felt sure that I would remember this night for the rest of my life.

XI. The Solar Fathers
As the snakes began to slither back into the forground, I could see tell that whatever I just drank was not going to get me all messed up. The snakes were beginning to fade in their intensity, turning into more of just patterns of energy than recognizable entities. I began to think that the play of visions had come to an end. The last act was very fitting, with my father coming down and then drinking with the spirits of the other dimension, it was just too perfect. I sat in my chair in total contentness. I had changed so much in so little time, a true metamorphosis. I would never be the same, and I felt so glad about that, for I believed so strongly that I had transformed into a higher being, into a wiser soul, a spirit fully awakened.

"Carlos?" Lydia's voice creeked. She had had a rough night, too, as far as puking was concerned. I had no idea what had gone on in her head, though.

"Yeah?" I responded.

"How ya doin'?" I could hear in her voice that she was looking for some comfort, some reassurance that everything was o.k.

"I'm much better now. I had a rough night, for sure, but now I feel just fine. How about you?"

"I feel good now, too, but I threw up so much, my throat hurts. I know that I needed to get that stuff out of me, but I wish it didn't hurt so much."

"Yeah, I had a lot of toxins in me."

"Yeah."

We were both in a similar place, exhausted but feeling good about the whole experience. As I spoke to my friend, I noticed that I was beginning to sober up. Somehow, talking was getting me back to normal again. I was remembering what reality was, at least the reality I had lived in for the last twenty eight years. The energy patterns were beginning to fade and moments of no hallucinations at all began occuring. I welcomed them, having had enough of it all by then. I would have welcomed more visions as well, I suppose, but I was satisfied with what I had seen thus far and wasn't looking for more. I was actually thinking that I would like to go to sleep. It must have been around 2am and I had been through a lot. While my spirit was stronger than ever, my body was weak and needed to rest.

Juan began to speak but I wasn't really listening. I was just kinda zoning out in my thoughts. I needed to listen intently to understand him, and I didn't have the energy. I could tell that he was feeling good though. His tone was one of pleasure and enjoyment, and he laughed at his own story, as did some of the others. He made a joke about Mr. T, which I didn't get, but laughed anyway because it had to do with Mr. T, a humorous name to hear a shaman from the Amazon rainforest say. I thought about how shamanism is changing, and that if I were to become a shaman, I would have to understand that I will be pioneering a new form of shamanism, one that I had been unconsciously developping for several years.

Juan then started up another icaro. This one was very different from the others, however. It was a true 'song,' rather than the chant like repetition of notes that was found in the others. It had lyrics throughout the whole thing, with verses and a chorus. It was a beautiful melody and a feeling of warm love came over me as I listened quietly. Juan's voice was still as strong and clear as ever, and it amazed me to think of singing a whole concert's worth of songs while concentrating so hard on healing and tripping face the entire time. Juan was an amazing man and my admiration for him continued to grow. I truly wanted to study with him and to learn to sing such beautiful melodies like the one I was listening to now. This was what my life had been leading up to, this was why I was here. I knew what I was meant to do. In my journey up the mountain, my vision had been obscured by clouds, and I had to trust my instinct to decide which way to go. But tonight those clouds had cleared for a moment, allowing me to see my destination, to view the top of the mountain and to know the path that leads to it. While the clouds will surely return, I have much more confidence that I am travelling in the right direction.

I laid my hands gently on my stomach and assessed how I felt. I had no pain, no nausea, no ill feelings whatsoever. I felt wonderful, in fact, and this song was just what I needed to realize how good things were for me. Music has so much power to influence our state of mind, our state of being. I had known this forever but now felt more than ever, deep down inside, that music was the key to an eternal connection. Harmony was a musical term, yet it refers to a unity of mind and body, to a peace in the universe, to a life of true contentment. We are all striving to achieve harmony in our lives, to bring the music of our being into harmony with itself and the world our us. To be healed is to achieve that harmony, to create that special music, to sing this beautiful icaro. I smiled as I thought of the future, filled with music, harmony.

As Juan's icaro came to an end, and the last few words slowed to make the ending more dramatic, I vowed to dedicate my life to learning the science of the plants, to learning the art of healing, to help the world through music and song, to become a shaman of the new reality, a leader in the revolution of the human spirit. I collected my thoughts and began working out the details of my future plans. I needed to move out of my house, sell my car and most of my things, and get a plane ticket back to Peru. It was a big change, but somehow I knew that this was to be the outcome before I got here. I even told some of my friends that I was moving to Peru. Now, I knew for sure that I really was moving down here. As long as it took, I was going to learn this stuff.

But the people I wanted to help were in the United States. This was the culture that needed the most help, and the people that I loved and cared about the most were up there, not here. So I would have to return to the States sometimes, or better yet, I would bring them down here. I would set up a program to bring my friends and family down to the Rainforest to see for themselves, to feel the truth of their spirits and the be healed. This was what would give me fulfillment in my life. This was why I was here, why I was born. This was the meaning of my life. A tear of joy rolled down my cheek as I embraced myself.

"I love you, Carlos," I whispered to myself.

Juan then explained that the next icaro would end the ceremony. It was actually quite relieving to hear this, as I was definitely ready for bed. I could've gone for a drink of water, too, and maybe to smoke a little herb. Yeah, some herb. That would be nice. The icaro resonated in the little shed as waves of good feeling flowed through me. I looked around, trying to see how the others were doing. I could only make out the faint outline of a couple people, who looked like they were asleep. I was slumped in my chair as well, however, I just assumed they were asleep becuase I was so tired. While my head still buzzed with the ayahuasca electricity, I had no hallucinations or visions. I was just seeing black again.

The icaro drew to a close and Juan said, "palabras de Dios," words of God. The ceremony had ended. People immediately began to move about in their chairs. Juan got up and went outside. It was actually over. There would be no encore. It was time to go home. I let out a long yawn and sat up. It was going to take me a little while to compose myself completely. We were still gonna have to walk to the street and catch a taxi. I hoped that they were still out this late.

"Ay," someone was stretching. I put my arms over my head and stretched my back a little as well. I hadn't had the best posture during the ceremony, and all that puking had pulled my back muscles out of joint. It felt good to stretch, but I still wasn't ready to stand up. The young girl and her mother began to speak. I could tell she was tired and wanted to go home. The two of them gathered their things and said goodbye to us in the darkness. They then made their way to the door and left. I wondered what had gone through that little girl's mind tonight. I couldn't imagine how I would have taken such an experience when I was her age. What a different culture it was, where children trip out all night with their parents in order to be healed. If only the culture in the United States were like this, we would have such fewer family problems.

After a few minutes, Juan returned and turned on the light. It was a painful two minutes of squinting while my pupils remembered their waking size. I put my hand over my eyes to sheild them from the dim flourescent overhead and peeked around the room to see how everyone was doing. Everyone acted as if they were just waking up, moving slowly with tired, displeased looks on their face, kinda like when my airplane arrived in Lima at 1am and the lights in the cabin were turned back on. Disoriented and uncomfortable, having spent the night sitting in a chair, we all regained composure for a few minutes while Juan casually smoked a cigarette.

I really wanted some water. My mouth was dry and my stomach completely empty. I so wanted to refresh myself with some cool clear agua, I asked aloud if there was any available. There was a pitcher on a table in the corner with a cup. I smiled as I watched the water pour into the cup and warmly thanked the woman handing it to me. It was like drinking the elixer of life, for I immediately felt stronger and more alert. It was just what I needed. I began to recall the last scene of visions, where I had drunk ayahuasca with the hobbit spirits. Excitement began to reawaken my body and my mind lit up with the realization of what had just happened. I quickly turned to look at Lydia. I wanted to tell her about what I had seen.

As I turned, tracers of light appeared in my sight. Out of the corner of my eye as I turned my head, I could see bright lines of patterns but as soon as I stopped to look at them they stopped. Only when I moved my head or eyes quickly did the lights appear and they only remained for a few seconds, like trails. I put my hand out in front of me and moved it up and down to see if there were any trails following it, and there were, but the lights were different, because they were not there to begin with, like my hand. They just seemed to appear. I checked this out for a minute or two before talking to Lydia, who was busy getting her things together anyway.

After I had gotten a handle on what my current state of visual ability was, I stood up and stretched my body, reaching my hands up to the ceiling of the house and then bending over to touch the floor. Man, did that feel good. My back cracked pleasantly two times and I let out a satisfying sigh. I was good and tired, but felt that I had earned this tired feeling, which made me content inside. I had done something great for my body, for my mind, for my life, and knowing this filled me with a warmth and energy not often felt. I wrapped my arms around myself and gave myself a big hug. Waves of love flowed through me, all the way down to my toes. A soothing tingling sensation covered my body with a protective padding. Everything was just fine, and was going to stay fine, too. This I knew. Of this I was sure. The world was as it should be.

"I had some amazing visions." I finally expressed as Lydia stood up.

"Yeah, it was a crazy night." She stretched her arms out as she replied. I could tell she was tired from the way she moved.

I began to recall all the things I had seen. There was so much, so many crazy events with such unique connections to my waking reality. It was like a David Lynch film of my life or something, and I got to play the role of me. Then I remembered the UFOs. Was that a vision? I wondered if I had seen something that was there but normally unseen, or had I seen a hallucination that really wasn't there. But what do I mean when I say 'there?' It was definitely somewhere. My perception of reality was trying to return to normal, but it was needing some adjustments.

"I can't believe I saw those UFOs." I looked over at Juan. He seemed to be sitting comfortably, with no signs or being tired at all. He actually looked quite awake as he quietly sat behind his table. I wanted to ask him some questions about the UFOs. He must have seen them, too, at some point. Earlier he had said he'd been drinking ayahuasca for forty years, so he must've seen them if I had seen them my first time. I sat back down in my chair and decided to ask him for more information regarding the UFOs. I knew that my father would have a bunch of questions for me when I tell him about this, so I wanted to get as many answers as I could.

“You saw UFOs?” Roman asked.

“Yeah, I saw three of them.” Roman quickly relayed the message in spanish to Juan. Juan’s eyes brightened a little as he confirmed the information with me. Then he asked me a question I didn’t understand. Roman translated,
“He asked if you saw the big ship or just the little ones.”

‘Holy shit! They were real!’

“No I saw the big ship.”

“Si, grande”

Juan commented that he didn’t think they had come back yet and that normally they are gone for a longer period of time. Roman explained what Juan had said. The little ships were here all the time, and then occasionally the big ship would come and get the information the little ones had collected. It was all discussed very casually.

The topic of conversation would’ve changed to something else just as casually if I hadn’t steered it back. I had a lot more questions about these aliens, especially if Juan knew them well. So as some small talk began between the two women, I decided to push for more on the aliens.

“Por favor, Don Juan,” I stammered, “mas information en las extraterrestrials?”

“Que?” he replied.

After a few more tries and a little help from Lydia, Juan understood what I wanted and began to speak about the aliens. He had most certainly seen the UFOs and explained that there were two different kinds, the round ones and the triangular ones. He said that there were several different races of aliens but that he had only spoken with one race, whom he called the ‘Solar Fathers.’ It was this race of aliens that was the most concerned with helping humans. They were from a galaxy far away, he didn’t know exactly, but they had a city built on the moon of Neptune. It took them just fifteen minutes to get here in their spacecraft, which Juan said he had been inside.

Their race was ancient compared to ours, and they had a wisdom that was only glimpsed by the human mind. Jesus Christ aparantly had learned his pranic healing techniques from them and other races of aliens, prior to him coming to earth. They wore clothes made of metallic fabric, like liquid mirror robes and they traveled on beams of light. They had hair like dreadlocks made of some sort of plastic and they appeared to be androgenous, beautiful like women, but with the mannerisms of a man. They meant us no harm and have been visiting us here on earth to provide information to help us survive.

Juan then said that the Solar Fathers had told him that a meteor was to strike the earth in the near future. He said that he had had to do a conversion into our calendar, but that he figured it to be around 2018. It was going to be a cataclysmic event that would rock the world, sending the human race back to an ‘uncivilized’ way of living. Only those who were still living without electricity and modern technology would be able to handle the change smoothly. There would be a great many deaths and much destruction. The meteor would land in the Atlantic Ocean somewhere, causing havoc on the coasts of North America and Europe, destroying most of the western world. The Solar Fathers assured Juan that they would help us through the tough times.

“Cuando?”

“2018.”

Wow. That was pretty heavy. I needed to remember that. My father knew a lot of people at NASA, scientists and astronauts, and I definitely wanted him to check this stuff out. I was gonna email him first thing in the morning. I was gonna email a lot of people tomorrow.

I asked Roman to tell Juan that my father worked for NASA. He knew what NASA was, of course, and jokingly suggested that I have my dad build a spaceship and he would fly it to Neptune.

“In your country, you have to build a space ship to go to the moon, or to Mars. But here, in the jungle, we have been going there for years, with ayahuasca.” Juan slowly grinned, proud of his statement and the truth within it.

“And your space ship takes a long time. To get to Neptune would take your people years. But with ayahuasca, we get there in fifteen minutes. And you think that you are more advanced than us!” Everyone laughed at this. I chuckled and felt a little embarrassed because he was right. The scene was sobering up, and we were all feeling a little more comfortable since the light came on.

Juan then began talking about the spiritual dimensions and his travels and journeys to distant places and fantastic worlds. He explained that in the other dimension, the realm of the spirits, he is known as ‘Yanapuma,’ which means Black Panther, in Quechoa, the ancient language of the Inca. I recalled hearing Juan sing the word, yanapuma, several times in the icaros. I thought it was a perfect name for Juan.

Black Panther.

It had always been my favorite animal. That is, besides the hawk. The black panther is the smooth character, one cool cat. He’s beautiful and seductive, yet with a frightening power that commands respect. He may not be the king of the jungle, but he’s one bad motherfucker. The king don’t mess with the black panther. The Black Panther does as he pleases.

As Juan told his stories, I drifted off into thought. I recalled events from the ceremony, posed questions about reality and the nature of things, and wondered how much would change for me. This was something big. I felt a chill of nervousness run through me. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. It could have been described as a chill of excitement as well, for I smiled as it passed. I felt more confident about doing this than ever before. I was coming back here to study with Don Juan. I was going to journey with Yanapuma.

Juan’s voice faded and silence once again took the room. We were all coming to the same realization. It was time to go home. It was over, for real now. I stood up at the same time as Lydia and we both went to the table in front of Juan to leave some money and to say thank you.

“Muchas gracias, Don Juan, muchas muchas gracias.” I wished my Spanish was better, for I really wanted to express how much I appreciated what he had done for me. But all I could say was thank you over and over.

Juan smiled and replied, “Gracias a usted.” He was thanking me for coming to the ceremony. He stood up and reached into his pocket and presented both of us his business card. Yes, shamans have business cards. He told us to contact him via his email address and that we were welcome to come back anytime. I looked down at the card. There was an illustration of a panther with an ayahuasca vine. It said ‘Ayahuayra Journeys.’ I shook his hand and thanked him again, telling him that I would like to return before the end of the year.

“Ya. No problema.”

Then we quickly said ‘buenes noches’ to the others, I shook hands with Ramone, the Wachwari chief, and then we left the house of Don Juan.

It was drizzling and the tiny drops of rain felt refreshing as they landed on my face. The stars were blocked by clouds now, and the moon was just a fuzzy glow. We carefully walked out to the dirt road and began the trek through Juan’s neighborhood to the main road where we would hopefully catch a taxi. I wasn’t sure if there were still taxis out at this hour, but that was the plan.

It didn’t really matter to me anyway. I was content to walk the whole way, or just wander around until the sun came up. I was in a state of contentment that could not be disturbed. A smile never left my face as we trodded along the soggy road home, only getting wider and retracting, but always smiling. It all made sense to me, and while the pieces weren’t put together yet, at least I knew what the puzzle was supposed to look like. That’s a big help.

A dog came out to greet us as we passed his house. His barks roused a couple of other dogs and now we were causing trouble. We quickened our pace and moved to the far side of the street. Nothing was said except, “ssshhhhhh.” We were just walking. The dogs calmed down and the crickets returned as our soundtrack for the stroll to the taxi. I looked over at a dark shadow standing by a tree. A man was taking a leak.

A tiny thought arose in my head.
“Is it dangerous to be out here this late?”

Then I remembered that from now on, everything was going to be just fine, because it was exactly the way it should be. I didn’t need to worry about anything anymore. I just needed to keep on keepin’ on.

It felt so good to be completely satisfied for once in my life. Ironically, the thought of the meteor coming totally relieved any anxiety I had had about the future. I didn’t need to think so far ahead. I could look at the here and now and work from there.

It was, however, very intriguing to wonder how it would all play out. ‘Would there really be a third world war? Would the meteor destroy us all or could we prevent it? Can all these prophecies pointing at the near future be coincidental, or will something big definitely occur in my lifetime?’

I started putting together a theory that the space station was an effort to preserve the wisdom of the human race should the planet experience a cataclysmic event, like a meteor striking it. Or perhaps it was a weapon to destroy the meteor and preserve the earth. ‘What if George Bush was actually going to save the human race? Wouldn’t that be funny? And how did 2012 fit into all this? Would we shift our perception of reality into another dimension before the physical world collapses, thus escaping the cataclysm without trouble?’ It was a lot to think about, but none of it really mattered to me. It was just interesting to ponder.

I also couldn’t help but wonder how the experiences I had just had were made possible. ‘What was the connection between the chemicals in the brew and my perception of the spiritual dimension? How did my beliefs going into the ceremony effect what I felt and saw? Could it be that this reality that I have taken to be the ‘real’ reality for so long, could it be that this is just a dream like all the others?’

I knew that for some reason, the amount of Dimethyltriptamine in the brain determined one’s dimension of reality, or at least, that when there is more DMT in a person’s brain, the person could interact with spirits and see worlds that they couldn’t normally see otherwise. I had also read somewhere that when we die, our brain produces a vast quantity of Dimethyltriptamine. This made perfect sense, considering that I had just shaken hands with several deceased people, and that the name of the plant, ayahuasca, translates as “vine of the dead.”

But the only thing all this chemistry stuff explained was that there was a relationship between DMT and spiritual experiences. It actually seemed to confuse the matter, because it suggested that what we were seeing under the influence of ayahuasca wasn’t ‘real’ or actual, but rather the effects of a drug. It was all just a hallucination created by my mind. I could not deny this possibility. But then, I would have to also be open to the idea that this thing I call ‘the real world’ is all just a creation of my mind as well.

If all of reality was in my beliefs and perceptions, then it was possible for a profound experience like an ayahuasca ceremony to change those beliefs and thus, change my reality. And if one of those beliefs was that I was sick, it could be transformed into ‘I have been healed.’ Perhaps this is how ayahuasca heals, by showing us the infinite potential of the universe, the opportunity to make our dreams exactly as we want them, and allowing us to change from the inside out.

Do we want to think that there is no cure for cancer, or would we rather believe that we can be healed, because ancient plant medicine has the cure?

The solution is the human spirit. What we cannot accomplish with our physical bodies we can accomplish with our spirits, our spiritual bodies. Belief in the spirit is a way of opening a door to a world of infinite possibilities, but how do we convince ourselves that at the core of our being there is a spiritual entity, made of pure energy but with consciousness?

Our lives can all instantly improve the moment we believe this, yet the American culture has ignored the concept of the spirit for so long that it has been forgotten. We have no ayahuasca, no peyote, no mushrooms, no salvia. At least, the majority of American society doesn’t have these things. Thankfully, a global subculture is forming around the world that does have these gifts of the gods, and we are learning more and more about their use from the ancient cultures that still remember.

It is this global subculture that will have to reeducate the rest of the human race, remind them of their true essence, and point them in the direction in which we are all supposed to be headed. The path of the spirit, guided by our connection to the infinite, is the way meant for us. This is the flow of the universe. It is all of our voices together in harmony singing praises of love.

You want power and wealth? What is more powerful than the infinite universe that our spirits embody? Who is wealthier than the person who feels the energy and love of the entire universe flowing through them?

The spirit is the answer to western culture’s problems. It has the power to make everyone, regardless of their economic status, successful contributions to society. With the spirit as our guide, we could step into the other dimension holding hands. We could enter the gates of heaven right now, alive. All we needed to do was listen and believe.

At that moment my spirit was telling me what I was going to do with my life now that I had seen the truth, or more of it. I was wondering, “How am I going to make my life the way I want it?” and then, “How do I want it?” The answer was something I had known already.

I knew that I wanted to become a healer. This I had known for several years. I wanted to be a healer for the future generation, the technologically integrated culture that I am a part of. I wanted to become some sort of electronic shaman. But for that I needed to study with a real shaman. That was where I had been stuck for a long time. I had now found a real shaman, though, and the journey could continue.

So, what I needed to do now was put together a plan for a project here in the Rainforest, a program for people to come down and visit with Don Juan. I would be a guide for Americans to safely make an excursion to the Amazon and drink ayahuasca with an authentic and powerful shaman. I would study with him and help others to discover the spirit within and the infinite potential of the spiritual dimension. This was how I wanted my life. To make my life this way I just needed to surrender to the flow and let go. It would all take care of itself.

Life had always worked that way for me. It seems like I’ve made decisions but it was the events that were beyond my control that actually determined in which direction my life went. I would meet someone and they would influence my way of thinking and the next thing I would know, I was headed in a different direction.

It’s like hiking up a mountain, and running into another hiker who tells me about a tough spot of rocks up ahead. I use the advice to change my course. On the detour I meet another hiker who tells me about a beautiful view that can be seen nearby. Again, my course changes, but the peak remains my destination. Eventually I will reach the peak and look out at the world below. More importantly, I will look out at the horizon, for the next mountain, and the next adventure.

As we approached the main road, the tingling drizzle had stopped but my clothes were damp and heavy. I was tired and looked forward to lying down. I still felt a pleasant high, though.

“Lydia?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for inviting me down here.”

I put my arm around her.

“No problem.”

Through the mist I could make out the outline of a man by the street. It was a taxi.
He was waiting for us.

Afterward

After my six week adventure in Peru, I returned to the United States with a new vision. I was going to start a healing program in the Amazon Rainforest that would incorporate my study of shamanism and my desire to live simply. The capitalist environment of the States is powerful, however, and even before the plane had landed in New York City, I was having doubts.

“Perhaps I had just been caught up in the whole ‘Amazon jungle’ thing and needed to get back to reality,” I thought. ‘Maybe I would forget about the whole thing and just go back to my life in Massachusetts.’

I was actually considering giving up on the plans I had thought were set in stone. It was not going to be easy, but luckily, the spirits were looking out for me. They were gonna make sure I knew how important it was for me to keep the faith.

A good friend of mine picked me up at the airport in New York and took me to his apartment for the night, before I’d be heading back to my home the next day. On the ride to his house he told me about a young woman he had begun dating named Katalina. He would be going out with her that night and wanted me to meet her.

I was tired and chose not to go out, but at around 4am, they returned from the club, waking me up from being asleep on the couch. I apologized for not going out but that I had just returned from Peru and was tired.

“You were in Peru?” She asked.

“Yes, for six weeks.”

“I have a couple friends who live in Peru. Perhaps you met them. . .”

‘Was she serious?’ I thought. Peru is not a town. It’s a huge country.

“Roman and Eugene?” She continued.

My mouth dropped. No way. Roman had mentioned that he had a friend named Katalina in New York. This was all too much. Is that a coincidence or what? Katalina took my hands and looked into my eyes.

“What you are doing is very important,” she said, “and while it may be difficult for you here, you must stay on the path you are on.”

It was a message from beyond. It was the reassurance I needed to keep going. I quickly regained my faith in the future. I was not crazy, even though it would appear that way here in this society. I was doing what I needed to do, what was meant for me. This was what the spirits were telling me. I listened and didn’t forget.

Katalina never went out with my friend again. The purpose of their getting together had been fulfilled. I was going to go through with it. I was going to be a shaman. The next day I began the difficult task of ending my life as an American, which eventually included selling my car, moving out of my house, and saying goodbye to the lifestyle I had become so accustomed to. I returned to Peru and began the Ayahuayra Project, a program for those in need of healing and those who wish to learn the science of plant spirit medicine. The dream and reality are now one.

NOTES

I have presented this story as a single evening in my life, the night I spent with a shaman in the Amazon Rainforest. Each of the experiences I have described actually happened to me, or at least I perceived them as happening. However, they did not occur all in one night. I have compiled the first four ceremonies I attended with Juan, which actually took place over the course of two weeks, into a single evening. I did this to avoid telling the story that took place in between the ceremonies, which I felt was unimportant compared to what had taken place when I drank ayahuasca. I also felt that my memories of these events resembled my memories of being on tour with the band Phish, where one concert seemed to melt into another and what I had done at one show got confused with another show and in the end it seemed like the whole tour was just one big, crazy-ass concert. Only the important pieces manage to get saved, but not always in the right order. What gets put back together is similar to what I put together here for this book: one big, crazy-ass ceremony.

I made it seem as though I was healed in one night and I want to clarify that this did not occur. I must state that it did take two weeks and four ceremonies to achieve a complete healing of my stomach problem, as well as the emotional and spiritual healing that took place. It is not common that an illness be cured in only one visit with the shaman. During the first ceremony, I vomited close to twenty times and had diarrhea a handful of times while the ayahuasca cleansed my physical body. I had visions of UFOs but it wasn't until the second ceremony, the cleansing of my emotional body, that I asked Juan about the aliens, and it wasn't until the third ceremony, the cleansing of my spiritual body, that I got to see inside their spacecraft. The octopus, the glowing orbs, the Akashik hall of records, all occurred during the third and fourth ceremonies. I only vomited once or twice after the first ceremony, and it wasn't until the fourth ceremony, during which I was completely healed, that I saw the spirit on the stump with my eyes open.

I would also like to note that in the days between ceremonies, I was following a diet prescribed by the shaman, which most definitely contributed to my healing as well. With this book I was attempting to describe my actual perceptions during the ceremonies and present them in a captivating way. My decision to condense the four ceremonies into one may have compromised the accuracy of my account of the healing process, but I wanted to make every sentence of the book exciting and interesting. I hope to write a series of books in the future that will tell the story exactly as it happened. I apologize if you had any misconceptions after reading this.

Again, let me say that while the events described in this book are 100% true, the order in which they occurred has been altered, and the events described did not take place in only one night. Thank you for reading this and I hope you enjoyed it.

Paz, luz, y amor…