Messages from mama ayahuasca

On moving out or staying on

I sat in an ayahuasca ceremony two nights before New Year’s. It was not my first time working with plant medicine or psychedelics. Yet each ceremony is always unique. This one struck deep because of circumstances around it.

The morning after the ceremony, I drove my motorbike down the dirt path towards my house, as always passing through a thick grove of trees. In the clearing, I saw a group of people gathered. I nodded hello, not thinking anything.

Just a few moments later, I heard chainsaws start going.

Oh. Fuck. No.

In the state of openness and sensitivity I was in, this sound felt indescribably violent to me.

My body was extremely exhausted and desperate for rest. Part of me wanted to put my earplugs in and pull a blanket over my head. But there’s no way that I would have been able to sleep. I felt like a raw exposed nerve ending. The buzzing of these machines was shaking every cell in my body.

The medicine was definitely still moving in me. And as ayahuasca spoke to me, I heard an echo of something from a few hours before. “Stay with me.”

So, I stayed. Instead of running away, I moved closer to the scene. I went back outside. I crouched on the ground. I sat there silently a while. Eventually, I moved just a few meters from where they were cutting trees.

At some point, I felt a huge wave of emotion rise in me. I could no longer control my body or the sounds that were coming out of me. I found myself sobbing and screaming and hugging my knees and rocking back and forth. Like a crazy lady.

But in that instant, I didn’t give a shit who could see me or hear me. The workers. The neighbors. My landlady. I even pulled out my phone and recorded myself during one surge of ugly crying. I felt totally helpless in my pain and it was all I could do to scream into the void of the Internet.

Through all this, mama aya was holding me. I heard her repeating mantras in my mind, anchoring a calm center in the midst of this destruction and chaos.

She kept saying over and over: You are the medicine. You are the seed. Be who you are. Plant yourself here. You are the seed.

I could not stop the trees from being cut down, but I felt strangely comforted that my existence, my witness and my expression, were in some way contributing.

I felt the vibration of my voice radiating out ripples of energy. I could see it touching the people around me, whether they were consciously aware of it or not. And the same for those who would later witness me via technology.

In absolute humility, I held a knowing that this moment of intense feeling was powerful, despite its seeming weakness and insignificance. It allowed the unseen transmission of a subtle frequency.

It’s not because I am anyone special. It’s just that when a ripple of grief touches another, it amplifies a wave of collective energy. As this energy builds, it can and does change reality.

Since 2019, I have lived and worked in an expat community that is a hub for holistic wellness, alternative therapies, and many modalities of personal and spiritual development. When the borders re-opened, new foreigners arrived — including crypto bros, digital nomads, first world refugee families, and real estate speculators.

It’s easy to complain about traffic and construction noise and rising prices. But yet, I sit and write this while drinking a cup of gourmet imported coffee. That wouldn’t exist without customers who are happy to pay for such things.

What most of the newcomers are here for, is no different than what I want for me. A place to create a good life: to be free, to work, to serve, to connect in meaningful relationships, to be part of a like-minded community.

Immediately after the big trees next to my house were felled, I had friends start talking to me about the idea of moving. Moving to another part of the island. Or maybe even moving to another part of the country.

Maybe it’s because ayahuasca was still flowing in my internal waters, a different response arose within me. I felt a deepening sense of commitment to stay. To secure my borders. To take up space. To replant new trees. To anchor more in my own energy, no matter what is going on around.

Leaving now doesn’t even register as an option. Staying and creating beauty here feels like my divine assignment. That came through loud and clear during and after my ceremony.

I have stewardship of a beautiful piece of land a few kilometers away from the house I’m renting now. And I feel a growing devotion to developing that land, carefully and consciously. I feel devoted to create a nature sanctuary where I feel safe and nourished, where I can provide a safe and nourishing space for others too.

It’s a pattern we’ve seen repeat in many powerful energy centers around the world. First the rebels, the hippies and the outcasts from default society arrive. They make it a cool and attractive place to be. And eventually the masses come and “ruin it” with capitalism, with overconsumption, and with blind opportunistic greed.

This process of development and the accompanying destruction of nature and erosion of community is a familiar sad story. And it will keep happening in every place we can possibly run to, until we start acting differently.

We can congratulate ourselves on being higher vibration humans, as compared to ignorant plebes. We can feel self-satisfied thinking of ourselves as superior conscious beings. But isn’t that arrogance breeding isolation?

Until we find a way to co-mingle and co-exist despite differences, to engage in dialogue from self-love and authentic truth, these cycles will continue looping.

As long as we keep running away from things we don’t like, denying parts of ourselves and disowning portions of humanity, these patterns will repeat.

If we cannot find a way to live next door to people who look and feel different from us, how spiritual and evolved are we?

Is a peace of mind that can only be maintained by separation really peace? Is freedom that cannot stand in the face of difference really freedom? Is leadership that invests nothing into collective awakening really leadership?

I know my place. I trust my pace. I will not run. I stand. I stay. I plant myself where I am. I walk my path. I am here to create. Ayahuasca graced me with this clarity.