We woke the next morning, and each of us had the day to decompress and share our experiences.
We briefly spoke in the morning. I remember sitting on the floor eating, feeling extremely conscious of my half-grown, half-bald, scraggly hair. I curled back into my little ball of self-doubt. Someone asked who sang last night (with the shaman). I kept my head down, unable to speak up.
Throat chakra closed
Later on in the day, Don said to me that my gift was the heart. He said that I had lost my heart, and this was to be returned to me. The love last night was my heart returning to me, and hopefully, a chance to better grow my gift.
I was a bit disappointed as I thought my gift was going to be a healed eye, but I guess a heart will do for now.
The day went on, I still smoked at the time and was desperately craving a cigarette, I asked Don if I could smoke a cigarette, and he said I shouldn’t, that commercial tobacco is horribly poisoned and very bad for the soul. I mean, I believed him, but I still wanted a cigarette. He promised he would give us a sample of pure tobacco. Later, he then bought out what looked like a giant cigar.
I hit that bad boy, and wow, what a rush it was. Unfortunately, I now really wanted a cigarette, so afterwards, I snuck away and went and smoked at my car before the ceremony. I was riddled with guilt, but I couldn’t resist.
The evening arrived, and it was time for our second ceremony. When we all lined up, he changed his routine; now, before giving us our cup of spicy mud, he took everyone’s hands and “smelled” them. I say smelled, but honestly, it was a mix of smelling, blessing, and shaking. I never thought anything of it until I sat in front of him.
I remember feeling the bolt of fear run through my body – the cigarettes. He would absolutely smell them. I felt like a naughty (and stupid) teenager.
My fear spiked around me
Don smelled my hands, said nothing, and passed me my cup
That evening was mild, very chilled. Similar to a 2 or 3-gram psilocybin ceremony.
I never sang, and never felt the large field of love
I can’t remember everyone else’s experience, but from my perspective, it was just a light high.
Fluffy but not very insightful.
I was riddled with guilt about the cigarette he told me not to have. I couldn’t help but wonder if that had affected my night…
The night closed off.
The next morning, we had a cacao ceremony led by Michelle
She led us on a guided meditation, which, honestly, I have never really enjoyed, and still don’t like to this day. Regardless, this time was a bit unique, as somewhere through the ceremony, I started crying, not Aimee, but me this time.
I just cried; I don’t know why I cried, or what I was crying about. But I cried.
It felt friggen awesome.
I believe that crying is a physical way of healing trauma. The lightness that comes after and the feeling of things falling off you when you cry deeply is so beautiful.
And that was the end, we all packed up, said our goodbyes and continued on our way. I had successfully navigated my first DMT experience and emerged unscathed. Also, one of the participants was a grower of soma (magic mushrooms), which was a great connection to make.
Anyway, back to reality.
Work the next day…
Remember, our office was, frankly, staggeringly beautiful. We had a large, open-plan layout in a triangular shape, with plenty of natural light reflecting off the ocean as we sat on the water’s edge at The Waterfront. Air whisked freely around, as the “inside” of the triangle was entirely open.
It was one of the best places to work in South Africa, but after my ayahuasca experience, walking into that building was like encountering a fog. The energy was so dense. It seemed at the moment more like a mortuary than a prestigious finance building. Even walking was different; it took effort and was more like trudging through a swamp. Laptops and desks appeared to weigh millions of tons, and everything seemed to be sternly bolted to the floor. The carpet struck me as the single most disgusting thing I have ever touched in my life, with every stain shooting out at me.
Even ordinary things like the occasional corner, chair, or column looked as though they had pockets of density, which I was now scarcely able to perceive. When I looked at them, I saw faint, brown, moving blotches, similar to the ayahuasca fractal visions, but these were nasty and even malevolent. This fractal vision continued throughout the day, as focusing on something for too long brought them back. I couldn’t believe how heavy everything seemed in this place. This was supposed to be a top 10 place to work in South Africa, probably Africa. Yet, after my ayahuasca experience, it was now an assault on my senses, stripping me of all sharpness and clarity.
I should have known then that one day I would be forced to leave this prestigious company, for the sake of my energy and my journey.
I pushed everything away; I actually had to work now. I had to pretend to be normal, so after adjusting my eyes to the two screens that glared the most unpleasant light I have ever known, I settled back in my million-ton chair, which, miraculously, was also somehow able to move around, and began my mind-bending Monday.
Michael's musings 