For a number of years, I have sat with ayahuasca. I’d dip in from time to time with a well-established psychedelic community at a mountainside compound in the southernmost reaches of Oregon. Socially speaking, this scene was a real step outside of the ol’ comfort zone for this closet-goth art boi. But I’d recently quit my life as a career alcoholic, had a boatload of trauma and was in search of healing.
Getting to this location was a pain in the ass. I was a non-driver and rides to participate in this decidedly niche activity were sparse. So, this one time that I knew that I needed to sit, I booked a seat on an Amtrak that would get me kinda close to where I needed to be. Within 60 miles at least. Not bad. Could be a pretty easy bike ride, not counting a clunker of a climb right at the end. I dug around for info on cool routes but really only got suggestions for some dreary highway style riding. But almost by accident, I spotted on a map what looked like a national forest road that would very nearly connect the dots in a most elegant way. At least in theory.
There it was. I loaded my bike up with gear, rolled the bike onto a train and spent the day blasting my way southbound with a rough plan in mind. I set off the next morning through rolling farmland to catch my connector a ways down the road. 10 fairly chill miles in, I hung a sharp right off the main road and began my ride in earnest. Really didn’t know what to expect here. Google street view hadn’t covered this area and I figured it’d be a craps shoot. To my delight, I was met with a tidy ribbon of almost pristine pavement of just barely a car width and one hell of a line of sight while still offering enough turns and undulations to keep things interesting. All sorts of cool flora, lava field type stuff, spectacular views of Shasta, and not a single vehicle for miles. I took my time and savored the solitude. The route I’d chosen slowly climbed over 30ish miles, leveling out at a series of lakes just north of where I’d eventually be spending the next couple of days. I hung out by the water for a few hours. It was rad! There were pelicans. Who knew?!
The sun was setting, and I hustled my way down to my meditation spot, this big ashram built overlooking some unknown-to-me valley. Checked in, stowed my bike, found a comfortable spot next to a fireplace and chit-chatted with some of the attendees until dusk and the start of the ceremony.
This wasn’t my first time sitting with this medicine, but despite some significant experiences, I didn’t feel like I’d done much heavy lifting up to this point and had been contending with some real spiritual and emotional bugbears. They say the medicine gives you what you need, and I guess I needed to be thoroughly wrung out this time around! The stars came out and we collectively got down to it. Knocked back a healthy serving of ayahuasca and waited for the night to begin. I don’t remember much up to this point, but the familiar tingling in my temples as the trip unfolds. This is usually where I start wondering if I’m doing it right or if I should consume more. In that moment, the person next to me erupted in a coughing fit, spraying me with a malevolently viscous energy that stuck to me like tree sap. Almost instantly a field of flaming eyeballs filled the room. That was that. I bounced outta there and made it only a few steps outside as I was confronted by a hovering vision of a metallic owl surrounded by giant pythons twisting around a cruciform of shattered marble. The shadows of primordial creatures hung from the trees nearby. The owl and I had a conversation. I cried. A lot.
And then I composed myself and went back inside. It was calmer than when I left. Folks were chugging away on their trips, and all was fractals and energy grids from there on out. One of the creatures from the trees appeared in the window facing me. Illuminated in the moonlight, it was an ancient giant sloth, a megatherium if you’d believe it. Which is wild. That’s the animal, though long extinct, I’d identified the with the most as a child. And it was my guide for the rest of the night, acting as a mirror and a conduit. Helping to show me the things that I’d been needing to see. There was a lot more that happened that night and through the next evening’s meditation, but there’s really no need to get too much further into it. It’s like listening to a detailed account of a stranger’s dream. You know the vibe.
So yeah, after a pretty wild weekend digging deep into the psyche, maybe a thousand calories consumed over three days, a couple of hours sleep at the most and feeling downright crisp, I said my goodbyes, helped with the cleanup and loaded my gear back onto my bike, ready for whatever. I had an offer for a lift home from a close friend that was passing through a nearby city sometime within the hour. 10 miles of steep, twisty descending. White knuckles and a rictus grin as cross winds push me from corner to corner, floating over cattle grates and through dried out ranch land. Pigs popping out of the grass, happily running alongside. Pretty sure we’re all going to die before they disappear around another turn. Feeling completely out of control and wondering when the fuck I’ll stop descending, I drop into a cutesy little town, where my pal, parked next to an expensive looking cafe is patiently waiting for me. I feel crazy. We grab ice cream and head on home.