My First Encounter with Ayahuasca. From the Book «Shamanism: A Bridge Between Worlds»

Excerpt from the book by Konstantin Roninio «Shamanism. The Bridge Between Worlds«.

My first encounter with Ayahuasca took place in Peru in Tarapoto at the center of the respected curandero and healer Jorge Gonzalez during a traditional ceremony that Jorge held for our group from Russia. In addition to our fellow countrymen, the ceremony was attended by a charming girl, Lisa from Israel, and three wonderful people from the USA, one of whom was our friend Maki Erdeli. Maki, as a doctor of medicine, who had participated in numerous ceremonies, recognized as a shaman by the Shipibo tribe, and who was fluent in multiple languages to facilitate our verbal communication, was the second leader of the ceremony. For most attendees, this was their first encounter with Ayahuasca. The people gathered were brave, ready to embark on an unknown journey, and clearly understood why they needed it. We realized that this was not just another experience with «psychedelics,» but something more, although we had yet to grasp how much more.

When people decided to travel to such a distant country from Russia, they sensed or anticipated that a unique experience awaited them at an authentic shamanic ceremony on the land of people who have practiced shamanism for thousands of years. Svetlana and I, as the organizers of this expedition, were confident that we had chosen the right place for the journey. Our premonitions were fully confirmed.

It was very important that Jorge and everyone who lives and works at his center «SONCCO WASI» («SONCCO WASI» in the Quechua language means House of the Heart) welcomed us with open hearts and took great care of us throughout our stay at the center. From the very beginning, when Jorge met us at the Tarapoto airport, he warmly embraced each of us like an old friend. Then Jorge and the driver from his center took us to SONCCO WASI in two cars. Some of the suitcases that didn’t fit in the cars were transported by a local boy on a mototaxi. On the way, Jorge joked and told us about the town. I was simply enchanted by the local landscapes, especially the mountains surrounding Tarapoto. When we arrived at the center, among other things, I was surprised by its size. The roughly five-meter-high fence enclosed about three hectares of land where tall trees grew, and one-story buildings were located. We were hospitably accommodated in comfortable and beautiful cottages built and finished with natural materials.

Throughout the week we lived at the center, we were fed deliciously with natural, healthy, and fresh food that you can’t buy in Russia, nor in the USA, for any amount of money. For these breakfasts, lunches, and dinners, we all feel grateful to Flora—a wonderful woman who took care of us: she cooked, set the table, and even washed our clothes. It was amazing to see how she sang while preparing food or ran from one end of the garden to the other on her errands. She radiated light energy. Apparently, it was no coincidence that she was the one who served us the sacred drink during the ceremonies.

I also want to mention that we were constantly surrounded by beautiful, amazing, and initially unfamiliar plants from Jorge Gonzalez’s garden, which he lovingly nurtures at his House of the Heart. I cannot fail to mention the two huskies with incredibly deep and kind blue eyes that live in this house. They often played with us, as if teaching us something. From the very beginning until the very end, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the entire garden, the land, and the buildings at the center were imbued with a wonderful spirit.

We were also amazed by the people living in Tarapoto. Despite the fact that they mostly live modestly, they appear much happier than people in Russia. They are open, always greet you, even if they see you for the first time, and are sincerely ready to help. It seems they are entirely free from the mistrust and suspicion that permeates relationships in the streets of large cities. Perhaps this can be explained by the fact that Tarapoto is a small town, located in a stunningly beautiful place, surrounded on all sides by chains of mountains covered with jungle thickets. The ancestors of these people lived in tribes not too long ago, and many of them still have relatives living in the jungles. Therefore, these people are very natural, close to nature, and pure. They have not yet been corrupted by the aggressive civilization in which we live. Although it is undoubtedly increasingly encroaching on their lives. Perhaps this is an inevitability from which there is no escape—ancient cultures are disappearing along with the bearers of these cultures, and modern youth are increasingly being infected with a certain mass culture. This is happening in various parts of the planet, even in the most sacred lands. But this is precisely what makes the efforts of individuals to preserve ancient cultures particularly important.

Jorge Gonzalez is not just a representative of an ancient culture, knowledgeable about thousands of medicinal plants, and capable, as a shaman, of seeing people’s souls. He received an excellent education, which is almost impossible for an indigenous person from a tribe. Moreover, he became a doctor of philosophy and was the rector of a local university for a long time. Jorge does everything in his power to preserve the ancient culture of the Amazon. He heals people from serious illnesses. He actively advocates for the preservation of the jungle in its original state, fighting against deforestation. He teaches people from different countries traditional Amazonian shamanism, guiding them through powerful ceremonies. For us, it was important that Jorge was both a hereditary curandero, trained by sixty curanderos from different tribes of the jungle, and an educated person who understands the philosophy, psychology, and culture of other countries. He can act as a guide to the depths of shamanic culture for people from other continents. As a result, he gently removes the cultural conflict that often exists within us on an unconscious level.

But we saw Tarapoto and Jorge Gonzalez’s center later. Peru began for us with Lima. Even stepping off the plane into the fresh air, filled with the aromas of exotic plants, we felt that the mild climate of November Lima clearly suited us. It was much more pleasant than the humid heat of Venezuela, which we had experienced a few hours earlier during the plane’s refueling. When we first arrived in the capital of Peru, we met with Maximilian Erdeli. Maki is a wonderful person with a remarkable life story. Born in Paris to a family of Russian émigrés belonging to an ancient princely family whose roots trace back to Georgia, he managed to live in such diverse countries as France, Argentina, the USA, China, and Peru. It is impossible to categorize Maki by nationality. He absorbed many different cultures in his childhood. He can not only speak but also think and even feel in different languages. In the USA, Maki graduated from the famous UCLA, where the well-known Carlos Castaneda studied after his emigration from Peru. Later, Maki earned a doctorate for his research in alternative medicine in China, followed by a second doctorate for his many years of research into shamanism in South America. Maki now runs his own alternative medicine clinic in Santa Fe, New Mexico, where he personally sees patients.

Together with Maki, we traveled from Lima airport to the city in two private taxi cars and settled in a cozy hotel located in one of the best districts of the city—Miraflores. The hotel was not expensive but quite cozy. What was especially pleasant was that even in such a simple hotel, there was beautiful carved furniture made of dark wood. A stunning view of the Pacific Ocean coastline was just a five-minute walk from the hotel. There, you could watch the locals surfing. Together, we explored the local restaurants. The food was varied, tasty, and, compared to Europe or the USA, inexpensive. The level of service in the restaurants is impressive. What some waiters did could only be described as art. One waiter especially stood out to me for his artistry. Maki showed us the indigenous market, where many amazing things are sold. Later, before leaving Peru, Svetlana and I returned there and bought everything we could carry. It was important for us to have items at home that would remind us of this wonderful journey. Plus, it’s nice to give your friends gifts brought from the other side of the Earth.

Before meeting us, Maki had already visited the outskirts of Iquitos in the dense jungle on the banks of the Amazon. There he met and conducted a ceremony with an old and respected curandero—Salon. He also brought his friends from North America to this ceremony, whom we later met at «SONCCO WASI.» We had previously heard about Salon from our friend Alex and even listened to a recording of his ritual singing. This shaman is over 80 years old. But he is still very strong and capable of helping people as a shaman and healer. Since the Amazon jungle has long been a second home for Maki, he knows many shamans from different tribes and occasionally visits them. Maki told us that Jorge Gonzalez now has very potent Ayahuasca.

Usually, this sacred drink, which is also called Yage or Mariri in other regions, consists of two main plants: Ayahuasca—the royal vine that wraps around large trees, containing the active ingredient harmine, and Chacruna—a small tree also known as Psychotria viridis. But Jorge adds another 30 plants to this drink. As incredible as it may sound to us, all of Jorge’s knowledge about using plants comes from direct communication with them during ceremonies. They themselves, or rather, their spirit, tell him in what proportions and combinations they should be used in different cases. Of course, this is then verified and confirmed in practice. One can only imagine the enormous potential of Amazonian medicine when considering that shamans in the jungle know 80,000 medicinal plants. And how many combinations can there be among these plants? Modern pharmacology uses significantly fewer plants. It is clearly lagging behind.

The same can be said about modern psychotherapy. I express my opinion, which is shared by many leading psychotherapists worldwide who have studied ancient cultures. Western psychotherapy, despite its rapid development in recent years, is in its infancy, if not in a prenatal stage of development. I do not wish to offend true professionals working in this field, but it should be noted that very few psychotherapists can delve deep enough into a person’s inner world. This is beyond the reach of the vast majority of psychotherapists simply because they do not delve deep into themselves. The culture of self-knowledge is almost entirely lost. Moreover, it has been deliberately banished from «objective» science. But that’s a separate and extensive conversation. When a well-known doctor of psychology from Europe, who had written several books on psychotherapy methods, was leaving the «SONCCO WASI» center, he told Jorge Gonzalez:

Now all that’s left for me is to burn my books!

What exactly happens to people during these ceremonies? I do not believe that everything that occurs during the ritual can be explained solely by chemistry and physiology. Such an approach is too limiting. I also believe that, as people born in different cultures, we do not necessarily need to describe this process exactly as the indigenous people do. Of course, it would be a great achievement for a European to learn to see «through the eyes of a curandero.» This is not accessible to many. But I assume that there is another possible goal, which on the one hand is natural, and on the other, very expansive. I see it as the possibility of integrating various forms of knowledge from modern science with shamanic knowledge into a unified vision. The most accessible and therefore most easily integrated fields are the humanities, psychology, and philosophy. Undoubtedly, medicine and biology can also be well integrated. But even for a science like physics, and especially for its specific practitioners, much can be gained from interacting with Ayahuasca. Especially considering that, according to some physicists, this science is now on the verge of a breakthrough into a mystical reality where entirely different laws operate. In this book, I will attempt to show what this synthesis might be based on.

I believe it’s important to emphasize that not everything called Ayahuasca rituals is actually authentic. Moreover, not only can the rituals vary greatly among different shamans, both in the composition of the drink and the form of the ceremony, but there are also many fake rituals nowadays. This often happens in South America when ceremonies are conducted by non-authentic shamans for tourists, and the same occurs in Europe. As is often the case, people who have undergone several ceremonies with shamans begin to think that they can conduct such ceremonies themselves. But this behavior is similar to when people return from Tibet and consider themselves Lamas, from India as Gurus, or from China as Masters of Tao. I believe that years of training are necessary for immersion into any of the aforementioned spiritual traditions.

Some people tend to view Ayahuasca as a powerful «psychedelic» or «hallucinogen,» putting it on par with LSD, marijuana, or hallucinogenic mushrooms, which are legal in the Netherlands but illegal in most other countries. Such a perspective is possible. However, in my opinion, this perception of Ayahuasca limits the experience of those who encounter it. Perhaps I would compare Ayahuasca to other sacred plants from other regions of the planet, such as Iboga in Cameroon or Hikuri in Mexico, but again, provided that the person taking them does so with shamans in traditional ceremonies. Finding authentic shamanic ceremonies is a great fortune. I am not a supporter of taking strong hallucinogenic plants in the company of thrill-seekers. I believe that modern psychedelic culture is merely a faint shadow of the ancient shamanic culture, which is tens of thousands of years old. Moreover, taking Ayahuasca, like other plants of this kind, on your own is quite dangerous for a number of reasons.

I think the shaman is more important during the Ayahuasca ceremony than the sacred drink itself. The success of the ceremony depends on who the shaman is, how pure, bright, and powerful he is. During the ritual, the shaman performs significant work that the uninitiated cannot even comprehend, let alone replicate, until they cleanse themselves enough to begin seeing something. As Jorge explained, a curandero must be both a healer and a sorcerer simultaneously, as he needs not only to heal people but also to expel evil spirits. Often, he has to engage in unseen interactions with sorcerers who have sent evil spirits to a person. The shaman can also heal not only those present at the ceremony but also people at a distance by tuning in to them and saying their names. Jorge reads out a whole list of names at each ceremony.

Although during ceremonies, everyone sees their own unique vision and gains their own special experience, I think there is something common to all. But I can only write with full confidence about what it was like for me. At first, some immense force entered me and began to reveal myself to myself, including all that is highest and all that is lowest. During this time, at the level of sensations, my body ceased to be so dense and turned into some volume of energy. I initially went through my personal subconscious: all my fears, grievances, hidden desires, and debts. I couldn’t turn away from this, couldn’t ignore it or avoid dealing with these problems. I began to realize them and, with the help of Ayahuasca, cleanse myself. It should be noted that if the ceremony is led by a bright shaman, he also ensures that fear does not completely overwhelm you, so that you only encounter the amount of problems you can handle at that moment. The shaman also protects you from the influence of «evil forces,» which is very important during the ceremony, as the person is completely open and thus may be vulnerable.

Most often, when people encounter some «dirt» during their journey, they start vomiting. In this way, physical and psychological cleansing happens simultaneously. That’s why a vessel is always kept nearby for everyone during the ceremony. Of course, it’s better to eat less food before the ritual and follow special dietary rules. Otherwise, one vessel may not be enough.

I did not vomit. Perhaps this is due to my body’s individual reaction to the drink. Maybe my body liked it. Although I wouldn’t call it pleasant in taste—quite the opposite! Speaking of Ayahuasca’s healing properties, it’s worth mentioning that it’s effective for weight loss for those suffering from excess weight. An American friend of mine told me that after an Ayahuasca ceremony, the well-known Richard Bandler, who was overweight due to chronic diabetes, lost a lot of weight and looked rejuvenated. Additionally, Ayahuasca ceremonies are one of the few means that can truly free people from drug addiction. However, for this, people must have great determination to face their illness head-on during the ceremony.

After your personal subconscious, you enter the «subconscious» of your lineage: all fears, debts, and sins. And you work through them just the same. If you had a difficult birth, you go through it again, cleansing all the negativity from yourself. I think it’s obvious to everyone who has engaged in transpersonal practices that the birth experience has a tremendous impact on our entire life. During the ceremony, you may see many of your relatives: parents, grandparents, both living and deceased. For a while, you work through all the issues related to them. Gradually, you begin to see whose soul needs to be soothed, who needs help to lift some curses and fears, and from whom you need to ask forgiveness. People familiar with religious rituals, prayers, mantras, can use them during the ceremony if they feel the need.

If you understand the inner essence of religions, you won’t have any contradictions with true shamanism. Maki, who has been studying and practicing shamanism for twenty years, continues to use Orthodox prayers during ceremonies. For him, as for any practitioner, it’s important that they help.

After the ancestral unconscious, you gradually move on to the collective unconscious. I think it’s preferable that a person be prepared to enter this sphere. At this level, problems with interpreting what is seen often arise. People often have difficulty distinguishing what relates personally to them and what does not. For example, many people hastily attribute certain visions to their past lives. Or some visions are perceived as prophecies. But I would advise against jumping to conclusions. For me, it is significant that in the collective unconscious, knowledge about evolution, the history of humanity and the Earth, life and death is revealed. It should be noted that it is precisely at this stage that it becomes apparent that scientific descriptions of the world currently encompass very little. And if a person clings to a materialistic description of the world, the idea of death becomes insoluble and deadlocked. Many people who have delved into the depths of the collective unconscious have encountered the fear of death. I even suppose that this is a kind of gateway beyond which the greatest mysteries are revealed. Only by moving into this fear and transforming it can you see the most important things. Beyond this, what I would call the cosmic unconscious is revealed. Essentially, other worlds, their inhabitants, and the cosmic laws by which these worlds are created, exist, and disappear are revealed. It is also there that eternity or timelessness is revealed. But I will approach this gradually. It’s difficult to speak about such experiences with certainty. It’s impossible to prove the objectivity of what you see, even to yourself. But there’s no point in denying it either. The only thing left is to continue exploring.

We can only see what we are capable of accepting. What our mind doesn’t accept, we simply don’t see. Perhaps long ago, we chose not to see much, and this decision is very strong. It’s not easy to undo it. In any case, a thorough reevaluation of values must occur. For now, much of what a person sees during the ceremony, even if they see it clearly and distinctly, they are usually doomed to forget. A very interesting paradox arises: the more conscious a person is, the more clearly they understand how much they have forgotten from what happened during the ceremony. On the contrary, if a person is less conscious, they may think they remember everything! In reality, though, what remains is a feeling that can be described as a memory of a memory. The fact is that much knowledge, perhaps the most important knowledge, is imprinted not in words and images but in different states of consciousness or different levels of luminosity of your being. You can only truly possess this knowledge by reproducing the luminosity of certain parts of yourself, which is not always possible in everyday life. But, as they say, there’s no use complaining! Ayahuasca allows you to bring much into the sphere of conscious experience. One of Ayahuasca’s remarkable properties is its ability to remind you of itself months after the ceremony, returning you to special states of consciousness and, with them, specific knowledge you touched upon back then.

Before the ceremonies in Peru, I had the opportunity to communicate with people who had undergone similar ceremonies before. My friend Alex—a highly intelligent and charming person who not only knows the latest developments in various branches of psychology but has also studied spiritual traditions in different parts of the world—told me about his experience with Ayahuasca. For him, too, the key moment was the encounter with the fear of death. During his first ceremony, he «died» several times, or rather, experienced the process of dying. It was very difficult. After the first ceremony, he was haunted by this fear for a while. He would wake up at night in a cold sweat! Only during the second ceremony was he able to resolve this issue. He described his encounter with the spirit of Ayahuasca as something astonishing. He saw it as a huge black panther that entered the ceremony room and looked him straight in the eyes. At that moment, he felt as if he was seen through and through.

Maki described his first encounter with Ayahuasca a bit differently. For him, the surprising revelation was that the spirit of Ayahuasca has its own consciousness. He vividly saw his interaction with it. For example, when he began to think disdainfully or condescendingly about it and the ceremony, he would start vomiting. He clearly saw how this spirit helped him cleanse himself from inner dirt. Later, Maki learned so much during ceremonies that it couldn’t fit into any book. In a casual conversation in good company, Maki can tell many amazing stories. One of his distinctive traits, which initially was unusual for me because it’s almost never seen in people, is that when Maki talks about something, he doesn’t try to impress, amaze, or capture attention. He simply says what he sees and feels. He doesn’t see the need to embellish or exaggerate, as is common among people interested in esoteric knowledge or those teaching such knowledge to others. He doesn’t like to persuade people or prove anything to them, genuinely accepting, not just in words, each person’s right to their own choice. But it’s hard to understand this until you see the difference. I think he inherited this trait from the Shipibo Indians, with whom he spent much time and who became his second family. The world of the Indians is outwardly simple and transparent. It is not customary to lie, deceive, or hide your feelings. Such a life wouldn’t appeal to everyone. But Maki seems to have always been inclined to such a life and such a way of communicating. As a reward for his openness, Maki gained access to the inner world of the Indians, which holds incredible secrets and stunning opportunities for spiritual growth.

When the first ceremony began, I realized that it was very difficult for me to determine how to perceive Ayahuasca: as a helping spirit or as a substance that affects the processes happening in the brain. My mind swung between these possible perspectives. I couldn’t make this choice because I couldn’t deceive myself into believing that I knew which description was accurate, and I maintained both descriptions throughout the ceremony. On the one hand, it seems like a split mind. But on the other hand, it’s the position of a true researcher—to accept nothing on faith until you’ve verified it yourself! Socrates spoke of such an approach when laying the foundations of science, which never developed and even, after Plato’s death, transformed into something else—a science based on beliefs that still keep modern science within rigid boundaries.

The thought that Ayahuasca is a living spirit with its own consciousness and will, and evidently possessing great power, was somewhat frightening for me. The idea that it’s simply a substance affecting brain processes was easier to accept but didn’t explain everything that happened. I don’t know why I couldn’t then reconcile these thoughts. It’s almost obvious that there is no contradiction in them! One could assume that these are different levels of the same phenomenon. The spirit of Ayahuasca is the spiritual essence of the substance, and the Ayahuasca drink, with its psychedelic properties, is the physical manifestation of this spirit, its body. But such a definition doesn’t actually clarify anything!

Long ago, I had many experiences with various psychedelics. I know their potential to influence my internal processes. Almost always, it was an intensification of the mental processes already happening within me. The intensity, volume, and detail could increase. Sometimes, if you have a good mindset, you can derive something important for yourself from it. The process can be managed to the extent that you can manage the flow of your thoughts and feelings. I always knew precisely that if I was in a calm, joyful, and elevated state, psychedelics would show me unearthly bliss, and if I was in an anxious, depressed, or melancholic state, psychedelics would show me my inner hell.

But there were entirely different experiences as well. I want to write in more detail about one experience from my past. Perhaps this experience laid the foundation for my further exploration of altered states of consciousness. It was my encounter with Hikuri. For me, it was my first psychedelic experience, and I approached it as a meeting with a helping spirit, expecting the revelation of unusual abilities. At some point during the ceremony, I clearly saw and felt a vast force pushing through my energy shield in the area of my abdomen. Three other people participating in the ceremony experienced a similar sensation simultaneously with me. We all unequivocally perceived this pressure as approaching death. One of us actively fought against it, curling up and pulling his legs toward his stomach. I could see what he was clinging to. It was a struggle to remain as he knew himself, to maintain his self-identity. Yet he was the most experienced of us. Apparently, all his previous experience told him that he should resist this force. I and two of my friends decided to allow this force to enter, which at that moment felt like total acceptance. When it entered, something astounding began to happen. It started to move actively and powerfully inside, activating different energy centers within us, as if we were spherical luminous beings. These centers corresponded to our ability to perceive various parts of the external world. In this way, this force showed us that the entire universe is simultaneously both outside and within us. The peak of the experience for me was witnessing how non-being transitions into being. It became clearly visible when I found myself at the very top of the sphere, which was simultaneously me and the universe. My friends experienced a similar sensation. Later, we were surprised to discover that we had been silently communicating with each other for some time. During that Hikuri ceremony, there was a girl present who didn’t feel anything special. For me, it was all very mysterious, even though at that stage of my life, I behaved among my friends as if I knew all the answers to all the questions.

This experience, like many meditation experiences or lucid dreaming experiences, had long inclined me to accept a mystical description of reality: one that includes concepts such as soul, spirit, force or energy, consciousness in a different sense than traditional psychology attributes to it. But during the first Ayahuasca ceremony, I discovered that, as someone raised in European civilization, a materialistic description of reality was also deeply ingrained in me. In other words, from the beginning, it was a dilemma for me—how to perceive what I saw during the ceremony: as hallucinations of my brain or as visions of what lies beyond what I know. But this debate, like all subsequent debates that took place within me during the first Ayahuasca ceremony, occurred at a superficial level, while at a deeper level, processes of understanding and assimilation of new experiences were already taking place that did not require labeling.

This continued for almost the entire first ceremony. I constantly encountered the dual nature of my mind. Any idea that came to me immediately attracted the opposite idea, forming a binary tension in which I sought unity or a kind of golden mean. Only by finding myself in the middle between two opposites could I feel balanced. Then new ideas would arise, and so on. For example, when I thought about sincerity in relationships, the thought of calculation immediately followed. I saw that both were inevitably present in me. Such is human nature. But how can one achieve harmony? Perhaps by moving to a point where sincerity and calculation merge, to a state where you see and feel that being sincere is beneficial. Another example of dual tension that I saw was the choice between dissolving into something and maintaining my self. And again, there was no other option but to seek the golden mean: perhaps a self-image that does not contradict dissolution, or an image of dissolution that preserves your sense of being.

But intuitively, I understood that this method of thinking through images is a limited tool for comprehending reality. There is a deeper and therefore older way of thinking or simply knowing. And I also felt that this method is universal for different worlds, whereas our way of thinking is only suitable for our world. It was essentially created for living here. Since processes in our world run quite slowly compared to less dense worlds, we tend to think like slowpokes!

The biggest dilemma for my mind was the idea of death. My mind knew that the opposite of this idea is the idea of life. But I couldn’t see how harmony and unity were possible here. It seems that death excludes the possibility of life’s existence. Death threatens to destroy my «self» that feels alive. However, when you start to closely examine the process of life, you begin to notice that life consists of constant dying and being reborn. We constantly change on various levels of our being. Something in us is always dying, and something is always being born. And the boundaries of our «self» are very conditional.

Reflecting in this way, I came to understand that physical death is also part of the process, part of the game cosmic forces play. And the amount of consciousness and energy that I perceive as myself cannot just disappear. It must transform into something or dissolve into some superconscious medium. Once again, I encountered the fact that my usual way of thinking could not help me imagine this transition, because it is impossible to imagine. It can only be experienced. And yet I very much wanted to know what lies beyond. But during the first ceremony, I didn’t get that answer. Or rather, I had glimpses of it, but I couldn’t consider them as a definitive answer.

During the first peak of the Ayahuasca’s effects, I had a vision that is difficult to describe. It was the image of a giant wheel with glowing spheres moving inside it. I saw that all the spheres were connected on the level of light-consciousness, both with each other and with the force or being directing this wheel. Later, I realized that what I was seeing as a wheel was likely a single stripe of a gigantic glowing sphere. I also realized that by expanding my consciousness, I could see not only the entire wheel but even merge with the force directing it. For a fraction of a second, I was at the top of this wheel and felt the closeness of this force. It was a brief moment. I saw that any glowing sphere spinning inside this wheel could merge with this force. And at the same time, I saw that my current level of consciousness was insignificantly small for this. In other words, the speed of awareness must be millions of times faster to perceive this whole volume entirely.

I must note that seeing this image was somewhat eerie and melancholic for me. Perhaps because in it, I saw a certain mechanistic quality. It’s hard to realize that you are a small part of a giant mechanism, caught in some trap, while understanding that by your nature, you could be more free. At that moment, I remember a thought flashed through my mind: maybe it’s better not to see this anymore. And a slight feeling of nausea accompanied that thought. I associated it with the movie The Matrix. I then thought that the brothers who wrote the screenplay for The Matrix must have seen images of such complexity. They probably drank Ayahuasca! But it wasn’t just the mechanistic nature of this image that scared me. I discovered a completely new kind of fear within myself that I hadn’t observed before. I was frightened by the finality or completeness this vision seemed to claim. The idea that there’s nothing beyond this wheel, that all existence is contained within it, scared me. Perhaps this is the wheel Gautama Buddha offered to escape from, calling it samsara? But where did he offer to escape to—nirvana, absolute nothingness? I realized that something in me very much needs the presence of infinity, an unsolvable mystery that can never be fully revealed!

Sitting at home now, reflecting on what I’m writing, I could imagine how that immense being, inside which souls move and which I can perceive as God or the infinite universe, could itself be a tiny part of an even larger being, and so on. But during that ceremony, I didn’t think about this. Some deep inner voice just told me that this was far from everything.

It’s worth writing separately about all the fears I encountered during the first ceremony. There were many. But there were a few main ones that branched out into many others. Fear of death: from it stemmed fears of body destruction, illness, loss of loved ones. Although the fear of losing loved ones likely stems from the fear of loneliness. Fear of enslavement: from it came fears of being dependent or subordinate to a person, spirit, or substance, fear of being restricted in space or freedom of choice. Fear of judgment: fear of being seen as less intelligent, strong, and honest in others’ eyes (whether people or gods) than I would like. Fear of madness: fear of losing contact with the reality in which most people live, losing the ability to be adequate. And perhaps the most insidious fear—the fear of fears! This fear is the most irrational, and therefore, it was hard for me to cleanse. This fear was partly inherited from past unsuccessful psychedelic experiences when I took hallucinogenic substances with a restless mind in a hectic environment and tried to fight my own fears. But in reality, the roots of all these fears are ancient. These roots are common to all of us. Some people have healed themselves from this, while others haven’t. I think most people suffer from these illnesses in a chronic, barely noticeable but ongoing form.

During the first ceremony, my fears sometimes activated but didn’t completely overwhelm me. You could say that my awareness was slightly faster than the speed of being clouded by fear. Without a doubt, the atmosphere created by the shamans helped me with this. Nevertheless, it was a race for survival! It’s not that I ran from fear. That would be useless and foolish. Our psyche is arranged so that everything we run from in our consciousness always catches up with us. I had to be quick enough to become aware of my fears and dissolve them. I can’t say that I dissolved all the fears I described, but I learned the secret of how it’s done. The trick with Ayahuasca is that when you think the main wave has passed and you begin to smugly evaluate the experience you’ve gained, suddenly the next wave rolls in. And these waves caught me off guard until I told myself to be prepared for the possibility that this might never end. This meant that I couldn’t let my guard down and fall into self-satisfaction. For me, it was also very important to realize my full responsibility for my life, for what would happen to me. I knew that the help and protection of the shamans were very important, but nevertheless, only I could be responsible for my fate. It would be a mistake to shift responsibility onto others.

I understood that if a person is pure, they have nothing to fear. For them, the experience of encountering Ayahuasca, like death, would be the most beautiful experience. But I saw that I had already accumulated «dirt.» This can be called in different ways: karma, unhealed psychological traumas, or sins. Any of these definitions might fit. The important thing was that Ayahuasca revealed all of this, showed it, and offered to transform it. Moreover, it showed how to live without accumulating this dirt. But I can’t explain this in just a few words!

On the other hand, everything has already been said long ago: not following certain commandments leads to the destruction of the world—the force of chaos will exceed the force of order. I saw the fragility of the human world. For those who don’t see the process from within, commandments are necessary, like the Ten Commandments of Moses. Those who see the process from within and their connection to the entire cosmos will not want to do anything that leads to greater obscuration and destruction of harmony. For them, the main commandment is to conduct light, to be light. Some people are at a borderline stage: sometimes they see the process of karma creation, sometimes they lose this vision. Therefore, for them, knowledge and understanding of the basic commandments are also important. The problem is that a person can truly be in harmony with existence only when they are sighted. While they are blind, no matter how religious or moral they are, they still sin because they are not masters of themselves.

Another truth that I discovered for myself during the ceremony was simple and understandable. I think there are many people who have always known and know this. But for me, it was significant. I saw that every person is responsible for what happens in the world. You cannot focus exclusively on yourself, as you are in a specific time in a specific place. And even in the smallest degree, the fate of the world you live in depends on you. I wouldn’t say that the task of influencing the surrounding world is primary. For me, self-work is still primary. But the awareness that everything you do, think, and feel affects the surrounding world on the level of vibrations is very important. But I think it’s also very important not to confuse this sense of responsibility with an imposed sense of duty to someone or something. You need to learn to distinguish what comes from the depths of you and what is written on the surface of your personality. I saw, for example, that the common belief that politics is a dirty business is not entirely correct. Politics is made dirty by the real state of people’s consciousness, that is, our own, in which we live. And in this, both the powerful and those they govern are equally responsible. Everyone engages in politics at some level. Even choosing the most passive and uninvolved role is also politics!

For me, it was important to see that the overall direction of my activities, including organizing expeditions, is part of those positive processes that beneficially influence the surrounding space. This wasn’t just a logical conclusion. It was a silent knowing that I am now interpreting in words. And I also knew that it wasn’t always this way in my life. Of course, within this general direction of work, my ego can distort something. But this doesn’t cancel out the correct focus in the work. Maki confirmed this for me. Right after the first ceremony, while we were still in the ritual room, he told me that he saw that I was being guided by bright forces. He linked this to my great-grandmother, whom he saw during the ceremony. I am grateful to him for looking so deeply into my inner world. I think that bright forces help everyone who is turned toward them and cannot help those who have turned away. So even in this case, the responsibility lies with the person.

Towards the end of the first ceremony, I began to observe more what was happening with others. I saw and heard that many were going through difficult states, reliving traumas from the past. During the peak of the ceremony, I knew for sure that I couldn’t help anyone directly, as my consciousness was barely enough to cope with my own stream of perception. I realized that the best thing I could do was to bring as much light and awareness into my experience as possible, and since we had an internal connection to some degree, this could help. When the stream of perception became calmer, I saw that helping people in deep trance wasn’t so simple. First, you need to see and understand what is really happening to them. Additionally, you need the necessary skills that shamans possess.

At the end of the ceremony, there was an amazing feeling of unity with the other participants. It felt like people weren’t just approaching you, but something more. When we hugged, there was a sense of unusual merging. And when we all sat down together and embraced, I imagined and felt that we were one being, but in different bodies, embracing itself! We kissed each other’s hands and touched each other’s feet. And all these actions, which would seem odd to someone from our culture, came from deep within the heart. It was one of the miraculous moments in life.

After the first ceremony, when we started discussing our experiences, I realized that on the one hand, it’s very difficult to talk about this accurately, and on the other hand, it’s still necessary to talk about it to understand and process something. Each person chose what to share and what not to. But it was clear that all the participants in the ceremony had experienced so much that it was difficult for them to grasp and describe the experience. Everyone enjoyed the shamanic songs (icaros) that Jorge and Maki sang during the ceremony, as well as the music Jorge played on various instruments. This music and singing enchanted and protected us during the journey, tuning us to elevated states, love, and beauty.

When Lisa asked Jorge what he saw during the ceremony, how he saw us, he said that he saw a lot of beautiful experiences in us, but also a lot of heavy ones. Jorge also told us several times that he especially enjoyed working with our group. We felt that this wasn’t just a polite compliment or an expression of courtesy. Jorge is a very sincere person. When he told us something or did something for us, we felt that it came from the heart. After the ceremony, he brought us a basket of fresh fruit. But I didn’t feel like eating. I wanted to process as much as possible in my new state and didn’t want to be distracted by food. I remember that I only wanted to drink because I hadn’t yet fully adjusted to the hot climate. And I found water only later.

I remember one phrase that Maki said to all of us at that time: «You all think too much!»

After eating some fruit and chatting a bit more in the ceremonial room, we went out into the garden. It was an incredibly beautiful starry night. We were very surprised that it was only the beginning of the night, while we were all convinced that morning should have already come. Sitting in the garden on the porch of one of the bungalows, we talked with Maki for a while longer. We shared our experiences. He told us different stories about his recent journey to Cameroon to visit African sorcerers and about life in the tribes of the Peruvian Indians. After this heartfelt conversation, we all went to our bungalows and went to bed. That night, I didn’t have any special dreams. I just needed to recharge. So, climbing into a comfortable bed draped with mosquito nets on all sides, I drifted off and awoke only in the morning to the singing of unfamiliar birds.

The next day was a non-ceremony day. We agreed with Jorge that the ceremonies would take place every other day. This was most convenient for us because we needed some time to process the experience we had gained. Some hotheads in our group initially wanted the ceremonies to be held every day, but later, I think they realized that would have been too much. For the shamans, it’s possible. They can conduct rituals every day. But Jorge usually holds two ceremonies a week. The three ceremonies planned for us were an exception.

The day was very hot. Without a hat, it was hard to be in the sun. But for us, having flown in from snowy Russia, it was a unique opportunity to tan under the blazing sun of South America. We decided to use that day to explore local sights. We left the center and caught a few mototaxis. This type of transport is the most common in Tarapoto and could be seen everywhere. Almost every local has a mototaxi. And almost all the men moonlight as drivers. Riding a mototaxi around Tarapoto was more interesting than being in a car. This was probably because on a mototaxi, you feel closer to everything happening around you.

The first attraction we visited was the local market. It was a very lively place where you could really get a feel for the character of Tarapoto’s residents. Bargaining at the market was easy and enjoyable. The sellers didn’t seem greedy or eager to deceive you. It felt like they were just happy to talk to you. Most of the clothing sold there was modern and knockoffs of famous brands. From traditional clothing, we only bought wide-brimmed straw hats. They came in handy as they protected us from the scorching sun. We also bought T-shirts with «Tarapoto» inscriptions and pictures of local parrots. As for food, there were many things we saw for the first time: various exotic fruits and vegetables, different fresh fruit juices, and a corn-based drink called chicha. The stalls also sold dishes made from fried termites, which didn’t interest us as food. Medicinal plants were also sold at the market, but you needed to be well-versed in them to make a purchase. At first, Maki guided us on what we encountered, but then we split into separate groups and explored on our own.

We returned to the center in separate groups, and strangely enough, we all encountered unusual stories. Even people not inclined towards mystical descriptions of reality noticed this as a kind of sign. I won’t describe these stories in full. I’ll just say that for all of us, it was an experience of interacting with the locals. The lesson we learned was roughly this—we saw how emotionally closed we were, how many psychological defense mechanisms and tensions we had developed from living in Russia. Almost all of us tried to detect some hidden agenda or selfish motive in the actions of the locals who sincerely helped us, instead of opening up and gratefully accepting their help. Only after a while did something inside us begin to relax, and the barriers started to fall. This process can also be described as part of the healing therapy or a return to naturalness and warmth.

Another important part of the therapy and learning was the conversations during meals, where all ceremony participants gathered: our group from Russia and our friends from other countries. We all came together at a specific time in the dining area, which was located in the garden under a palm-thatched roof next to a small building housing the kitchen. From time to time, Jorge would join us. Maki was a special link in all the conversations. Not only did he constantly translate the conversation into Russian, Spanish, and English, but he also answered many difficult questions. The discussions covered various topics, but from time to time, they touched on issues that particularly interested me. This happened on the evening of the second day during dinner when Jorge was present. I decided to take the opportunity to address him with questions that especially interested me.

Jorge talked about how psychologists would come to him for ceremonies. He said they were shocked by what they saw and experienced during the ceremonies. So I asked him how they could reconcile this with the worldview described by modern science. I was especially interested in how they viewed the process of death, whether they allowed for the possibility of some form of reincarnation or transition to another form of existence. He said that most scientists he had spoken to thought there would be nothing after death. He said they don’t see humans as energy. From what I understood from Jorge, he doesn’t share the scientific worldview, at least not in its completeness. Furthermore, he often emphasizes, giving specific examples, that many mysteries science only recently uncovered had been known to people in tribes for a long time. For example, there is reason to believe that brain surgery was performed in Peru thousands of years ago, operations that are only now becoming available to neurosurgeons. People in tribes also used the principle of vaccination in ancient times, protecting themselves from deadly snake, spider, and insect bites. Modern medicine only learned this method of prevention relatively recently.

I asked Jorge how people in the jungle tribes see human death, what they think about the afterlife. At this moment, Maki, who was translating our conversation, told me that they don’t think about it at all. But despite knowing that Maki lived with the tribes and interacted a lot with the indigenous people, I couldn’t accept such an answer. I could accept that they, like us in Russia, don’t talk about it every day, but they couldn’t possibly not think about it. I told Maki that I think any people have a complete worldview, including ideas about death. Maki disagreed with this. But I think we simply didn’t fully understand each other due to language differences. So I asked him to translate my question to Jorge again, in different words. To my deep surprise, Jorge said they believe that after death, there is nothing. I was slightly shocked by this answer. I have to say, I wasn’t asking out of idle curiosity or to maintain a philosophical discussion. This question was deep inside me after the first ceremony. Of course, I knew the answers given by different philosophical and religious schools. But it was very important for me to get an answer from Jorge because I saw in him the living spirit of the Amazonian indigenous tradition, which for me was an absolute mystery.

There were a few moments of confusion when my being couldn’t accept Jorge’s answer. I asked Maki to translate my question again, using different words. And when Maki translated, it turned out that there had been a misunderstanding. Jorge was talking about how scientists from the University of Lima, with whom he had communicated, view death. He said that people in the tribes see the dual nature of everything: there is day and night, summer and winter, light and dark, just as there is life and death. And when Maki translated these words, something began to break through inside me. I said that I had seen this nature of duality during the ceremony, but I couldn’t find the «golden mean» between life and death. And when Maki told me, «You are right in the middle right now,» some gates inside me swung open, and light began pouring over me through the crown of my head. The light of superconsciousness (as I saw it) flowed over me so intensely that I could no longer continue the conversation. Maki and Jorge started talking to each other in a language unknown to me. Other conversations were happening at the table as well. Sometimes someone addressed me. But I didn’t want to be distracted. I decided that my friends would forgive me for such rudeness, and I fully immersed myself in this meditation. It wasn’t that I was receiving specific knowledge expressed in words. I was simply seeing and feeling the very nature of knowledge.

I knew for sure that this state was not directly connected to the effect of Ayahuasca. Ayahuasca prepared me for this breakthrough, helped me tune into it. I knew this for sure because I had experienced similar meditations before. The first time it happened to me was at fifteen years old, and I must say, it changed my entire life. It was an encounter with something that, on one hand, is my true nature, and on the other hand, it is beyond my ego. It was an encounter with the spirit or superconsciousness. When it happened for the first time, I sat for several hours, overflowing with light. I could literally hear my body, especially my head, transforming to receive this waterfall of energy. I remember that I decided to visit a friend who lived just five minutes away. When I entered his apartment, he was deeply engrossed in his work—drawing yantras. At that time, he was into Hinduism. I went into another room and continued meditating there. The light kept pouring over me for another couple of hours. For me, it was like magic. I was sure I had changed so much that even my body could live by different laws. I tried holding my breath, and indeed, I could go without breathing for a long time because I was filled with peace and grace. But when I started talking to my friend, I realized he hadn’t noticed any particular changes in me, even though I knew inside that I had been reborn. I liked that, and I decided not to tell anyone about this experience, at least until I had special reasons to do so. This was a reasonable decision, considering that I lived not in India or Peru, but still in the Soviet Union, albeit during the empire’s collapse.

But this time, sitting at the table with the curandero and experiencing such intense fulfillment, the question still came to me about how they see what is happening to me. But I didn’t feel like asking. I was content with the fact that thanks to them, I once again experienced these few minutes of unity with the spirit. When the conversations at the table ended and everyone started to leave, I also stood up and began saying goodbye to everyone. I remember that Jorge and I hugged, after which he made a gesture above his head. I understood it in my own way, as a sign that he sees this superconscious energy. Although, maybe he was simply pointing out how much taller I am than him!

The next day, we had a jungle hike planned. We all insisted on this hike, although Jorge offered us a choice: to go into the jungle or visit the Rio Mayo river. Unfortunately, we didn’t have time to visit the big waterfall that Maki wanted to show us before the evening ceremony. But we still chose the jungle because we wanted to see where the spirit of Ayahuasca lives! We wanted to see with our own eyes where the tradition we were learning about in the ceremonies originated. And in general, how could we be in Peru and not go into the selva?! In the morning, as always, we had breakfast in the garden. Fleury prepared traditional local food for the hike. She made rice with chicken, wrapped in banana leaves. It looked like balls the size of small soccer balls, filled with food. Each of us received our own ball in a little bag.

Jorge, along with Fleury’s husband, who works as a driver at the «SONKO WASI» center, drove us in two cars to the part of the city where the jungle begins. There we said goodbye to Jorge and, under Maki’s guidance, set off into the Andean foothills. The day was sunny but not too hot. We wore light clothing and sandals. Some of us, following Maki’s example, took off our shoes and walked barefoot. It was familiar for me to walk barefoot because I often do so in nature in Russia. The views were simply magnificent. We filmed some of it, but seeing it live was much more astonishing. We passed through banana and sugar cane plantations owned by local farmers. As we left the populated area and entered the forest, I noticed that all the crooked fences and wooden structures against the backdrop of small mountain ridges reminded me of something. And indeed, if you disregard the completely different vegetation in these places, you could imagine that this is the Sayan Mountains or Altai. This resemblance, combined with the exotic plants, made the place even more alluring and enchanting for me. At one point, very large blue butterflies flew up to us and started circling around, flying around each of us from all sides. After circling like that for a while, they flew off into the forest. Perhaps they were just welcoming us.

The deeper we went into the jungle, the fewer signs of human presence there were. We were entering the world of the selva. The path became narrower, climbing up and down hills. These weren’t steep mountains, but there were enough ups and downs for a good workout for our leg muscles. The trees around us grew taller, and the jungle became denser and more impassable. At one point, Maki told us that he used to have a hut somewhere nearby. But the area was so overgrown that it was very difficult to reach the hut. We didn’t even try. Often our path crossed the trails of large ants, which made me uneasy, mainly because Maki said that we might encounter ants whose bite would have serious consequences. Since I was walking barefoot, a few ants did manage to bite into my feet, despite my efforts to jump over them. Although it was painful at first, later I noticed no negative effects and even felt somewhat invigorated. Soon, we reached a mountain stream. Judging by some man-made structures we found, there was once a pumping station here, and the locals used to draw water from this stream. But now the place looked abandoned and wild. For a while, we walked along the stream. In places where it was shallow, we walked right through the water, and in deeper spots, we jumped from stone to stone. These were large, round boulders, and they weren’t slippery at all in this area. Then we returned to the trail leading deeper into the jungle. This time the climb was steeper. But we reached a point with an amazing view of giant palm trees.

Almost at the top of the climb, we encountered an indigenous woman with her daughter. They were dressed simply and walked barefoot. The woman held a stick in her hand, using it as a staff. She carried a sack on her back, the strap of which was slung over her head. We greeted her in Spanish, and then Maki talked to her for a while. Then she took out a stalk of sugar cane from her sack and gave it to Maki. In return, he decided to thank her by giving her some money. When we said goodbye, Maki told us that this woman lives with his friend, the Indian Pedro, in the mountains and is one of his two wives. We were curious about how they survive in the jungle. Maki said that they earn a living by gathering bananas and taking them to the market in Tarapoto. I imagined the endurance it would take to carry sacks of bananas so far along a mountain trail. As we descended the mountain, we saw the stream again. It looked similar to the previous one, just like all the streams we encountered. It was clear that it would be very easy to get lost in these areas. A fallen tree spanned the stream, acting as a bridge for crossing to the other side. The tree was a meter above the water. It swayed, and below were large, not-so-round stones. But everyone crossed the stream without much trouble.

After crossing another small ridge, we reached the stream again. We continued walking along the river, jumping from stone to stone or wading through the water. Some boulders were knee-high, while others were so large that you could lie down on them. Suddenly, in one spot, the boulders became very slippery. Three people from the group, including me, fell and hit the ground. But we all fell quite luckily. No one was seriously hurt. As we continued along the river, we saw a man walking towards us. Out of habit, I tensed up a bit—who knows who you might meet in the jungle? Maki greeted him and then spoke with him in Spanish. We also greeted him. It soon became clear that this was Pedro, whose wife and daughter we had met earlier. Pedro invited us to visit him. But Maki said it was a very long walk to Pedro’s hut. Such a journey could exhaust us, and we wouldn’t make it back in time. Then Pedro decided to take us to the waterfall. I don’t know if Maki told him about our wish or if he himself wanted to show us the place, but it was amazing that he put his plans aside for us and became our guide for a while.

Moving through the jungle with Pedro, we arrived at a spot where one river split into two streams. Pedro sat down on the ground, and we sat next to him. Some people were quite tired by now. Someone lit cigarettes. Maki always smokes pure Indian tobacco from his wooden pipe. Usually, I don’t like the smell of tobacco and try not to inhale cigarette smoke when someone smokes near me. But the smell of the tobacco that Maki smokes affects me differently. There’s something pleasant and calming about it. Soon Pedro stood up and suggested we move on. Watching his gestures, Lisa, Andrey, and I decided that we were very close to seeing the waterfall. The three of us followed Pedro and didn’t immediately realize that most of the group had stayed behind with Maki. They decided to have a snack during this time.

We moved upriver. Pedro walked very fast. Although we were all fairly fit, we lagged behind him. The path became more difficult to navigate and even dangerous at times. You could easily slip and fall on the rocks or twist your ankle. But we kept running after Pedro. It’s hard to describe the feeling this place evoked in me. The river was like a huge corridor. Tall trees, wrapped in various vines, stood like walls on both sides. It became a bit overcast, which added a mysterious atmosphere. We were approaching something grand, and we could already hear it. It felt like we were just about to see it around the next bend in the river. But each time we turned, we found that we had to go further toward the call of some powerful spirit. I had already let go of the thought that we were far from our group. I felt a sense of trust, either in Pedro, whom I had just met, in the spirit I was following, or in existence itself. And finally, we arrived at what we were searching for. I saw a place that combined mystery, beauty, and grandeur. By some aesthetic standards, it might not have been the most beautiful waterfall in the world. But for me, it embodied the essence of the water element, its power, and magnificence. It also symbolized the experience I had the day before this encounter.

Water was cascading down a twenty-meter cliff. Below, it formed a small pond, almost like a pool, perfect for swimming. To the right of this pond was a massive boulder where you could take off your clothes before swimming or lie down and sunbathe. We later discovered that it was also safe to dive into the water from it. The place looked as if everything in it was created for human comfort. Yet it was wild, created by nature itself. We undressed—some completely, likely for a closer connection with the pristine element, while others left some clothing on—and began swimming. We swam to the waterfall, stood beneath it, letting the water fall on our heads and backs. We stood on a ledge in the cliff, finding ourselves behind the waterfall like behind a wall. We had fun swimming and diving in the water. Pedro watched us thoughtfully for a while and then went back to fetch the rest of the group. Meanwhile, the sun came out, and all the overcastness disappeared. We could now better appreciate the paradisiacal beauty of this place.

We were lying and sunbathing on the boulder when we saw that another participant of our journey, Jared, had joined us. After a delicious lunch, he didn’t wait for the others, who had discovered another natural wonder—a local «jacuzzi»—and came alone to follow us. We were glad to share the beauty of this place with him. After some time, Pedro brought the rest of our group. We all rejoiced together like children, swimming, diving, and standing under the waterfall. At one point, Tanya saw a monkey jumping among the treetops of the giant palms, and we all tried to spot it among the swaying branches. I was glad that our friends had brought cameras to capture this place. They also brought us some delicious food, which we enjoyed. We gave part of our food to Pedro as a thank you for introducing us to the waterfall. Pedro told us that he was going to visit a healer who was treating his leg. He rolled up one pant leg and showed us his ailment. Just above his ankle, there were swollen growths on his leg that looked quite frightening. There was something touching about how openly he communicated with us. He evoked both sympathy and respect in me.

We returned a bit tired but satisfied. Near Tarapoto, we saw moto-taxis, and Maki started negotiating with the locals to take us home. As we drove along the mountain road, the advantage of this type of transport became clear. Besides on a motorcycle, there’s no other way to get through here. We were jolted around so much that it felt like some kind of race through impassable terrain. Arriving back at the «SONKO WASI» center, we settled into our comfortable bungalows and started preparing for the ceremony. I usually just relaxed and disconnected from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. I would lie on the bed, half-asleep, not thinking about anything in particular. I would go to the ceremony a little later, after taking a walk in the magical garden. I didn’t want to talk to people before the ceremony because conversation often leads to self-awareness as a personality created for and influenced by the human world. But I wanted to remain, as much as I could, in an impersonal state.

Describing my second Ayahuasca ceremony is much more difficult than the first. Firstly, I saw and felt much more during the second ceremony. And secondly, most of it is hard to put into words. Moreover, there’s another problem—my memory, which either remembers everything or almost nothing. In a normal state, I can only describe fragmented memories. So, to convey something alive from the ceremonies, I must somehow dive back into those states. This is what I occasionally try to do, using my meditation skills and my natural desire to retrieve the experience. I can’t say it’s easy for me.

Before the ceremony even began, I came to the conclusion that the only way for me to move further in understanding was to experience a certain death. I wasn’t planning to die physically. That meant I was seeking a different experience. I wanted to experience death on another level. While remaining physically alive, I wanted to see and feel what a person experiences at the moment of death. And as paradoxical as it sounds, in some way, I succeeded. This kind of death is mentioned in many mystical traditions around the world. It is believed that only by experiencing it can a person glimpse the true reality, see other worlds, travel through them consciously, and gain sacred knowledge. I partly knew this from my own experience, particularly from my encounter with Hikuri. I think such a mystical experience of death has many levels, and I can’t say it was an experience that answered all questions. Moreover, if you ask me whether I know what happens after death, I would say I don’t know. And yet, after the second ceremony, my attitude toward both death and life changed.

When we gathered in the ceremonial room, I looked around at the people present. Some were more calm and peaceful. Others looked slightly frightened. I must note that I think this is normal. A person might not be afraid only in two cases: either they are an experienced shaman, or they have no idea what’s about to happen! But since this was already our second ceremony… Right after the first ceremony, Maki told us: «Well, now you know what it’s like. The second time won’t be scary!» But looking at people’s faces before the second ceremony, and also looking inside myself, I wouldn’t say it was so straightforward. Although, perhaps, this feeling was more accurately described not as fear, but as intense anticipation. Because you sense not something ominous, but something incredible, possibly a meeting with infinity itself.

Almost immediately after we drank the brew and Jorge anointed each of us with special perfumes, I noticed a change in my state of consciousness. The brew chemically cannot start acting so quickly. Either it was related to my mindset, or to subtle interaction with someone or something carrying clarity of consciousness. Perhaps it was the influence of the Ayahuasca spirit. I «saw» that I was sitting inside a glowing sphere. But I didn’t see this sphere with my eyes. I often see lights around people and in the surrounding space during meditations. Sometimes it’s just a golden glow around objects, sometimes it’s a spread of many colors around me. But in these cases, you could say that I see it with my eyes, although I understand that even in those cases, something else is involved. In those situations, I would say the gaze comes from the middle of the forehead, from the space behind the eyes but slightly above them. But there is a fundamentally different way of seeing when your eyes see everything normally—the world consisting of solid bodies—while your consciousness directly sees much more. This vision could be described as having its center located at the crown of your head. But you actually see with your whole body. And it’s not exactly vision—it’s seeing-feeling-knowing. In this case, we can either ignore this vision or, on the contrary, focus on it. Many mystics say it is always present in us. My experience and the experience of my friends partly confirm this. Since consciousness is the medium in which we live, we cannot help but see. But some mechanism, not fully understood by me, directs most of what we see straight into the unconscious. That is, something in us refuses to perceive most of the world. And we likely could perceive it easily in childhood. Perhaps some external force influences us, making us blind. Perhaps it’s our choice. Or maybe, as is often the case, the truth lies somewhere in between: it’s both our choice and the influence of a powerful force to which we yield. For me, this is an open question and a topic for research. From this question arise other important questions for me: why do people use only six percent of their brain, and what is the connection between the brain and consciousness?

Modern psychology, with its emphasis on physiology and neuropsychology, chooses to consider consciousness a byproduct of brain activity. I disagree with this approach for several reasons. First, my subjective experience of self-observation, which may be meaningless to science but is an undeniable reality for me, tells me it’s not so. Second, the experience of studying the culture and traditions of different peoples, which are much older than science, also tells me it’s far from that simple. I’ve truly encountered the fact that people who have preserved a traditional way of life know more about the inner world of a person than modern psychology does. Most scientists prefer to turn a blind eye to this and not research this area at all. Science was initially very hostile to religious and folk culture, preferring to cut off entire areas of knowledge where it might be incompetent. And only relatively recently have some researchers from the scientific community started to turn to folk knowledge, studying the cultures of «primitive» peoples, which have miraculously survived in some corners of the Earth. But even now, science avoids the realm of knowledge that could be called subjective psychology. And there are serious psychological reasons for this!

So, sitting during the second ceremony and feeling myself inside a sort of cocoon, I began to think that this ceremony was going peacefully for me. I even considered that maybe through my awareness, I could neutralize the effect of Ayahuasca. This thought occurred to me during every ceremony. And for me, it’s interesting in itself. On the one hand, it seems foolish—why would I come all the way to Peru for shamanic ceremonies if I’m trying to neutralize the effect of the drink? But it’s not that simple. Ayahuasca reveals parts of our lives that we aren’t aware of, that we miss or ignore. If we are capable, by some inner decision or unknown effort, of beginning to recognize these areas—then Ayahuasca’s influence is essentially neutralized. More precisely, it stops being overpowering, pulling you away from the present moment into a reality of visions, and instead becomes calm and manageable. And with this approach, the power of Ayahuasca becomes a challenge for a person or a catalyst for an intense effort in self-observation. And someone for whom Ayahuasca works in this way will be grateful to it for such help. For people who resonate with this perspective, I would say that Ayahuasca poses a challenge of such magnitude that it’s hard to imagine anything else comparable. Perhaps sudden mortal danger forces a similar mobilization. But I think this is something different. The fact is that, firstly, sudden mortal danger forces you to mobilize only for a short period. If mortal danger lasts for a prolonged time, a person builds defensive barriers and somehow becomes accustomed to it. Secondly, I assume that different types of strength can be mobilized in different life situations: physical, emotional, mental, spiritual strength, etc. So, I discovered something surprising—that Ayahuasca, at least the one prepared by Jorge Gonzalez, forces the mobilization of practically all strengths, but primarily the utmost awareness. Maybe it’s because in this case, you’re facing not just something dangerous, but the unknown! I suppose that the same impact can come from mortal danger for someone who perceives death not as a threat but as a transition they are consciously preparing for. This is how many sages of antiquity viewed death. And perhaps many people see death this way. Only they begin to see it at the very last moment of life when death’s breath is an absolute reality. But in that final moment, it’s probably already difficult to restructure yourself and mobilize all your spiritual strength. In any case, to have such a capacity for mobilization, I think life must be lived in a particular way.

I should also mention that viewing Ayahuasca as a powerful spirit challenging you is not the only way. This perspective is likely close to those who follow the philosophy of a warrior. You can also see the spirit of Ayahuasca as a friend helping you, or as a beloved woman who embraces you. This is how some shamans perceive it. It’s quite possible that with such a gentle relationship, they receive much more. As for me, I realized that my excessive warrior-like attitude is often caused by certain blocks on love and tenderness, often stemming from simple childhood and adolescent grievances or fears. From observing people, especially myself, I know that strong childhood resentments can give a person great resolve, seemingly making them strong in this world. But will a person be happy with their achievements driven by such motivation? I think that it will be pitiful fragments of true happiness and love available to them. Perhaps it will be some distorted, bitter joy that’s hard to genuinely enjoy.

Returning to the subject of psychology, I’d like to point out that not only has subjective psychology disappeared from it, which at the birth of science was its very essence. After all, how else can you study the soul if not by observing it within yourself? And now it’s become almost inappropriate to mention that psychology is the science of the soul. How can one see and study the soul in others without seeing it within oneself? Even if the soul has been «replaced» with some conditional mental processes, these too can be observed within yourself, provided you don’t close your eyes. But I also want to emphasize that, in essence, experimental psychology isn’t advancing either. For a true psychological experiment, the researcher themselves must be involved. Participating in a shamanic ceremony or other authentic mystical rituals is a real psychological experiment. One can go further and try to explore what this spiritual sphere represents—a realm mystics, hermits, shamans, and yogis have always turned to, a realm preserved in the traditions of all the world’s religions. Perhaps it’s time for scholars to stop dismissing and shutting themselves off from the most crucial questions of existence, to stop ignoring the evidence pointing to a spiritual dimension reflected in the culture of every people that exists, has existed, or ever will exist on this Earth. Or does materialistic science hope to one day strip humanity of this dimension so that it falls away like a tail on a monkey through evolution? To do that, you’d need to create a new type of being. But who knows, maybe that’s where we’re heading? But I very much hope that such a type of machine-like being won’t replace people on this beautiful Earth.

During the first ceremony, because Jorge asked us to, I closed my eyes and spent almost the entire ceremony observing my inner world. But during the second ceremony, I wanted to be half inside and half outside. I sat with my eyes half-closed, sometimes shutting them for deeper immersion, sometimes opening them slightly. But this didn’t change the situation much, as I was already accustomed to looking within myself, even when looking outward. You could call it a habit of contemplation or self-observation. What I usually observe within myself is a certain density of consciousness-energy from which thoughts, feelings, and movements arise. This density isn’t the body, though it’s embedded and fixed within it. It’s also multilayered and multileveled. Typically, this density of my «I» feels relatively safe as long as nothing threatens my body. Of course, it can have different states. Sometimes some unpleasant feeling or sensation intrudes, which I have to dispel with inner effort. It’s also important to note that this density isn’t static. It’s constantly flowing, swirling, shifting. It’s hard for me to imagine a situation where something threatens the very foundation of this density. But that feeling does arise in the encounter with Ayahuasca. More precisely, it’s a surge of the unknown. Ayahuasca begins to break down this density, impacting it from all possible sides. It works slowly but thoroughly. It seems to set a more complex trajectory and a different speed for internal movement. When I accepted this new situation, I began to see that the incoming influence didn’t threaten my entire consciousness but only targeted the part responsible for a specific image of myself, that is, not what I am, but how I see myself. This process was more difficult during the first ceremony but easier in the second, perhaps because the image of «I» had become more fluid.

Since I’d already had experiences of deep immersion and feeling myself as a luminous volume of consciousness-energy, my self-image was no longer confined to just my body; it was more complex: it included both the body and the multi-layered being that is embedded within it. But even this self-image is only an intermediate stage in understanding oneself. Since it’s hard to constantly and continuously observe such a complex phenomenon as one’s being, my consciousness plays a trick—it creates a somewhat blurred complex image of «I» that includes the body since I have to use it constantly, and the more subtle part of my being. But the more subtle part of my being, like the body, isn’t fully visible to me, only fragments that I manage to grasp in self-observation. As a result, the image of «I» is incomplete and constantly changing. Any self-image is an illusion since it sets boundaries. But it seems that living without a self-image is either impossible or very difficult. Or perhaps only beyond the self-image and any imagery does true life occur, from which we are blocked by the mechanisms of the mind? Or maybe the self-image, as an innate idea, has an eternal nature? Perhaps as the soul gains experience in different worlds, it expands and complicates its self-conception, constantly transforming the innate idea of «I»? These are precisely the questions I seek to answer, including through Ayahuasca ceremonies.

The second ceremony gave me many answers. These answers will take time to surface from memory and adapt to my life. There is indeed a question I hadn’t considered before—how to live an ordinary human life with its daily survival challenges, sorrows and joys, successes and failures, while remembering what I saw during the ceremony? For a while, it seemed to me that this is difficult to reconcile. Maybe by using the magic of the indigenous people, I saw something my soul hasn’t yet matured to grasp? Maybe it’s easier to forget it to focus on everyday life goals? But that’s unlikely. Something in me already resists oblivion. And what I saw was an answer to the questions I asked before the ritual. If I had asked different questions, the answers would have been different. As I mentioned, I decided to face death. I saw it as a shadow positioned to my left. Wordlessly, on the level of intention, I invited it to enter me, to reveal its secrets, but allow me to keep my body intact for now. And so it happened. Perhaps this encounter could be seen differently. Most likely, it depends on the culture a person carries within them. Maybe my vision of this meeting was influenced by the books I’ve read. But that’s only about the form. In essence, what was real for me was that I could venture where mortals do not go—or if they do, it’s only when they die! But I want to emphasize one more thing—it’s always close by. We just don’t want to see it because we don’t want to acknowledge our mortality. Once we accept our mortality as an obvious, ever-present reality, we will begin to see and feel what lies beyond it.

As the effects of Ayahuasca began and the speed of perception increased, I decided to open myself to the descending light of the superconscious. The faster the process of perception went, the more I opened myself to the light. As a result, my being, which I saw and felt as a cocoon, began to glow more and more intensely. This light carried silent knowledge about everything. At one point, a thought flickered that I might ignite from within. I thought I wasn’t ready for this explosion yet. Behind this was a fear of leaving this world entirely, which indicates that I didn’t fully trust the agreement I’d made with death! Yes, what agreement? When was it made? Every moment, everything is decided anew! Intention flows through us like a stream, creating the reality we live in. I saw what is called the «ladder» in the tradition of Christian mysticism. In shamanic traditions, particularly among the peoples of Siberia, it’s called the World Tree. I didn’t see it as an image. It was simply a clear understanding that since this ladder runs through my being as an axis connecting two aspects of the One, I can ascend or descend along it. I thought this must be what shamans mean by journeys to the upper and lower worlds. I knew that one goes to the upper world for knowledge, which is also a type of power, and to the lower world for strength, which is also another form of knowledge. After all, knowledge without the ability to act is incomplete knowledge. And strength without vision and understanding is also limited. But during the ceremony, a pseudo-Christian worldview subtly emerged within me, whispering that somewhere below is hell, and above should be heaven and God! My being knew that all is one and divine. But the mind, with its duality, still somehow managed to intrude into the clarity of my consciousness. That’s the devil within us!

Then I decided to look at God! I decided to ascend and see where the light filling me was coming from. This was both a journey and remaining in place since «there» distance doesn’t exist. I turned my being’s gaze upward and began rushing toward the stream of light. The light grew ever brighter. Once again, the thought-fear flickered that I might not return. And then I saw what can be called the spiritual sun. I saw it precisely as a sun. I began to approach it. But my mind couldn’t resist commenting on the event. First, it tried to scare me with the idea that I might dissolve in this sun. But I didn’t dissolve. I realized I wasn’t ready because I came not as a whole but as part of myself. The other parts are scattered through time. And when I gather all my parts and come as a whole, dissolving won’t be a loss of self but a gaining of self in a new quality. I glimpsed a future that might belong not to this short earthly life but to the life of another cycle. I understood that I still have a lot to accomplish. Somehow, this didn’t upset me at all. It seems I haven’t yet grasped the highest Buddhist truth that life is suffering! Then my mind began telling me that the source of light I had approached couldn’t be the highest, that it was just one of many in the upper world, that there are even larger suns. And I admit, my mind might have been right about that. We almost always know which thoughts come from our higher nature and which from the lower, for example, from fear or doubt about the experience. However, I wouldn’t automatically categorize doubt as belonging to the lower nature. Doubt can vary: some come from a sober mind, while others from skepticism, meaning an unwillingness to believe in what lies beyond the known or familiar. Something inside me suggested that there is an even finer light coming from a higher center of the universe.

But my adventures didn’t end there. Everything was just beginning. I started looking within myself and studying what I consist of. I realized there’s a part of me that is either akin to the spirit’s nature (the superconscious principle) or is its manifestation within me. More precisely, I can affirm that this part of my «I» is connected with consciousness. Its nature is light or the subtlest energy. And its main ability is observation-awareness. But this isn’t the mind. The mind is a separate phenomenon, extraordinarily difficult to comprehend, if only because we’re used to understanding with its help. To start understanding the mind, you need to rise above it and begin observing its work. And the place from which this can be done is that part I’m writing about. This is the part of us where we can know something without the help of the mind. But within me, there is also a mortal body, which I can also assert is part of me. I began to look at it—not just look at the body, but see it from within as energy. From that moment, my journey to the lower world began. I saw the body not as a limited, frozen form, but as something fluid, meaning it also consists of energy, just like the other parts of my being. The body is denser energy. It also consists of moving particles, as known from physics. But unlike other physical objects, which also represent moving particles, the human body is directly connected with its consciousness. And this connection seems to me the most mysterious phenomenon.

Looking at the body as energy, I began to see the information it carries. It was as if I was reading a book. In fact, what I was reading, according to biologists, should be recorded in DNA. For me, this means that science has reached the layer of energy associated with the human physical body and is beginning to study how it’s arranged. Here, science intersects with mysticism. It’s obvious that people have been able to read this information for a very long time and likely much more thoroughly than what was revealed to me. Of course, comparing such different methods of knowledge as science and shamanism is somewhat inappropriate. They’re different perspectives, sometimes on the same phenomena. From the direct experience of shamanic journeying, everything is seen as it directly relates to you, to your soul. And the scientific view is detached—you might simply examine tiny particles under a microscope without even considering how it personally relates to you. Additionally, when you’re examining small parts, you might not see the whole picture. But in a shamanic journey, everything is seen interconnectedly.

For me, it was a revelation that we are so deeply energetically connected to our lineage. Essentially, our body, as an energetic structure, is embedded in a powerful energy stream flowing from our ancestors. This stream stretches into such a distant past that it’s hard to say anything definitive about it. I saw that at a certain point, if you trace the stream back in time, it transitions from human society into the animal kingdom, and further back, perhaps into the plant world. For a few fractions of a second, I vividly felt myself as a brown bear. In some sense, this vision confirmed the idea of evolution. I was struck by the strength and power of the stream that entered me through my parents. And in them, through their parents, and so on. How many people did it pass through to create this body of mine?! It’s clear that a person’s health and strength largely depend on how well this stream was conducted by their closest ancestors and how fully and deeply the person themselves is embedded in it. There’s also the concept that some modern researchers call ancestral karma. I’m not sure if that’s the right term since in India, the word karma refers to the part of a person that migrates between bodies and could be called the soul in Russian. But this raises a huge question—what exactly in a person constitutes the soul, and where does the soul end and the body begin? But even if soul karma is a separate concept, it likely determines what body, with what ancestral karma (genetic information), you will be embodied in. But as I’ve mentioned, the connection between the higher energetic nature and the bodily-energetic one remains the most mysterious phenomenon for me.

However, the genetic information our body carries isn’t something static, received once and unchanging throughout life. A person can alter even the deepest programs. But to do that, one must see the ancestral energy stream, know all its distortions and problem areas. All distortions have causes. Often these causes are psychological. From observing people, I’ve often noticed that they inherit certain character traits from their parents. These can be negative traits: envy, resentment, shyness, irritability, pride, fearfulness, greed. It’s obvious and has been proven by many researchers that all these qualities affect not only a person’s emotional life but also their physical processes, gradually leading to various diseases. In other words, energy distortions arise that eventually manifest in the body. These distortions are also transmitted into the ancestral energy channel, meaning they’re encoded in genetic memory. Of course, much more is written into it, with which one can also work. But nearly anyone can start working on their character traits, becoming aware of their emotional reactions in different situations, and comparing them to their parents’ behavior. By becoming aware of something, we transform it, meaning we erase old negative programs. In this way, the awakened higher nature of a person can influence their emotional and bodily nature. Writing in detail about this cleansing and transformative awareness would take more space. But the main thing to understand is that this isn’t self-analysis that can be done with the mind. It’s direct awareness.

After this experience, I understood why ancestor worship was so prominent in all ancient societies and tribes. In addition to general reverence for ancestors, there was special veneration for those who brought much light and strength into the ancestral energy stream. I also learned this through my experience during the Ayahuasca ceremony because, in my lineage, there was such a person—my great-grandmother, with whom I had the chance to interact closely until I was two years old. She passed away at the age of 101. Baba Fekla was a witch and healer. Until her last days, she remained cheerful. As I feel it, she brought much light into my ancestral stream. Although I hardly remember her in my ordinary state of consciousness, it is not always necessary to be a healer or priest to bring light. A person can be anything in life. What matters is the states of consciousness they experience and the kind of life they lead. If their life is filled with love, light, and clarity of mind, it should leave a positive energetic imprint on the Earth.

A separate phenomenon crucial for understanding one’s roots is the ethnic background of one’s ancestors. It’s well-known that every ethnicity carries unique characteristics and qualities that also pour into an individual’s unconscious, greatly influencing their life. These layers also need to be uncovered and realized to become the master rather than a puppet in one’s inner world. Children do not always inherit the strong qualities of their parents, but what one generation lays down, both good and bad, can manifest in one, two, or three generations later. It’s also remarkable that a person can influence not only their descendants but also their deceased ancestors. Svetlana clearly saw and experienced this during the ceremony. She connected with her deceased parents, and it was a very positive experience for her. I believe she will write about this and the many other incredible discoveries she made during the ceremonies. During the second ceremony, when I occasionally looked at her, I could see how powerful and deep the states she was experiencing were.

To understand what was happening during the second ceremony, you must try to imagine a speed of perception where knowledge that could fill dozens of pages of text unfolded in seconds. For example, when I decided to look at the development of my body in reverse, it took less than a second to regress to the embryonic state. I reached the moment of conception, and then something in me said, «stop,» and I began to look in another direction. It was as if something within decided that it wasn’t yet time to go there. After all, somewhere in that space may lie the knowledge of the moment when soul and body unite or when consciousness arises. But for me, the important thing was that I saw my birth was not difficult or traumatic, unlike some of my acquaintances who must work consciously and arduously to transform and cleanse ancestral traumas. Although I admit that there could still be things I haven’t yet seen. Certainly, if the journey had developed differently, I could have lingered in some places—early childhood or the womb—and taken a closer look at what happened there. But this ceremony unfolded in a way that required me to see a lot on a large scale. The question I posed before the ceremony was far too big.

During the ceremony, various mystical symbols appeared and disappeared before my eyes: the Christian cross, the Star of David, the five-pointed star, Buddhist images, and many others. Whole philosophical and religious doctrines were revealed to me in symbolic form: the mystical Christian view of the universe, the Buddhist worldview, ancient Vedic perspectives, and more. These were all concepts I was somewhat familiar with through books, but I also knew these were merely different ways of looking at the world. I wanted to find the real foundation that people mostly view through the lens of various teachings and philosophies. I wanted to see not through the cultural layer created by previous generations, but directly. I constantly returned to the question of death. Everything I saw was, in some way, a response to this question. Yet the question remained, perhaps because the mystery is so vast. During the ceremony, I often saw my body as a skeleton. But this didn’t frighten me. It simply sharpened the clarity of the experience. It reminded me that I was interacting with what lies beyond the short earthly life. During the ceremony, I saw and felt powerful forces that could be called deities, each responsible for different aspects of life. I could have even given them names using the mythology of some ancient culture. But I didn’t recognize them clearly enough to definitively name them. At times, I tried to understand their relevance to me—what they were giving me and what they expected in return.

It’s particularly worth describing how I perceived my interaction with the Earth. For me, there was no doubt that it is a vast living and divine being. Moreover, our bodies, like the bodies of all other creatures inhabiting the Earth, are part of it. We are so used to feeling separate that we rarely consider that all the elements composing our physical bodies are part of the planet’s cycle. Right now, certain atoms are contained within our bodies. In time, they will be part of other bodies that also cycle through this process. Different forms appear on Earth and disappear, while the substance from which bodies are formed remains. Consider how many people have lived and died on this Earth. Their bodies, as they were in life, remain part of the Earth. Now we know that even the Earth’s body has a lifespan—it too will die one day. Everything ever created will be destroyed. Only that which never appeared in the first place will persist. Only it has an eternal nature! But the Earth’s lifespan is far longer than a human’s, and during its life, it gives rise to countless living beings. We can view our embodiment in physical form on this Earth as a profound love connection with the planet. Earth offers us the chance to play in various forms, wrapping ourselves in its dense and warm energy. Who knows how many forms we’ve already changed while playing this love game with the Earth?

I saw that in this game, there was not only joy but an endless sea of suffering. People suffer greatly in life and find it hard to part with their bodies. I saw how agonizing it is for consciousness tied to the body to suffer. But is Earth to blame for this? More likely, this suffering is a consequence of our unconsciousness. We experience horrors and torments because we do not realize our true nature. Perhaps human suffering is an inevitable part of spiritual growth, a maturation where we come to realize our original nature. But as we become conscious, we can engage with the Earth at a conscious level. From it, we can draw enormous strength. I saw that the source of virtually limitless power is Earth’s core, its center. I realized that the most powerful beings on Earth are those most stably connected to its center. When the center of gravity of my awareness of myself as a spherical energy structure shifted downward, I began to perceive the energy fields that could be roughly called Earth’s gifts. Parallel to the sensation of immense power, visions of a specific nature began. But these were not clearly defined visions. A very rapid stream of images flashed by, reflecting different kinds of Earth’s gifts or different forms of power that could be bestowed upon an earthly being. I recall images symbolizing states of wealth. I saw ancient merchants engaged in trade. Then I saw images of modern luxury accessible to very wealthy people. I recognized the characteristic energy markers of people who can attract wealth. I saw the energy fields one needs to connect to in order to possess these markers. But something in me perceived all this as temptation, a distraction from what was more important to me.

However, earthly wealth wasn’t the only temptation I faced in this whirlwind of perception. I saw some magical beings who outwardly resembled humans but, based on my inner knowledge, were not. They were something between guardians of parallel worlds and sales agents. But perhaps they were more agents since they were conducting the most incredible presentation I’ve ever seen. These beings were advertising different worlds, offering both exploratory journeys and emigration! But I turned down their offers too. For some reason, I was certain that if I focused on one thing, I would lose the breadth and clarity of my consciousness. And all these episodes flashed before me at high speed, leaving no time for reflection. I wanted to see different possibilities of perception without diving into the details. I was also convinced that maintaining a connection with the flow that carries clarity of consciousness was more important to me than gaining any particular abilities. Perhaps this is a consequence of Christian ideas infiltrating my consciousness. But more likely, it was knowledge based on personal experience, telling me I was not yet ready to accept some of these gifts. Wealth, power, fame, and other forms of might, including possessing strong magical abilities, are not always beneficial for their holder. In my opinion, they can sometimes make people worse, which in turn can cause suffering to others and to the beings surrounding the holder of such gifts. And I remembered that in past lives, when I received some of these gifts, I didn’t always use them for good.

There was another question that persisted throughout the ceremony. It wasn’t so much a question as an intuitive sense that I was missing something very important in my awareness of the cosmic processes forming us as living beings. And this feeling was partly based on my understanding of the concept of the triad. I knew that besides the two great forces that were being revealed to me—the superconscious principle and the force arising from the very foundation of matter—there is yet another great force, without which no beings or worlds could exist. Only the presence of this force can bring harmony and balance. Without understanding and integrating this force, a person cannot form as a whole being. Of course, this force is love. Without discovering this force, one cannot accept oneself, the world we live in, or other beings as they are. And naturally, without knowing love, a person can never experience true joy and bliss. Moreover, without it, life has no meaning. But where is the source of this force? I asked myself this question during the ceremony. The answer was obvious—in the heart. But an interesting point became clear to me then. In interacting with the first two forces, I had a sense, or at least the illusion, of distance. The superconscious force descended upon me from above, while the force at the foundation of existence rose from below. But the force of love cannot come from somewhere—it can only be born within us, at the core of our being. But can we assume that the space inside the heart is smaller than the space of the sky? Perhaps with the full awakening of this force, one truly begins to lose the boundaries of self and starts to see the unity of the outer and inner. But for now, this is only a hypothesis for me.

I remember peering into my heart during that ceremony. I didn’t find an ocean of joy and love there. At first, I saw almost nothing. But as I looked deeper, I suddenly began to see a profound sadness approaching. At that moment, I thought of the melancholic Russian folk songs I had heard performed by people interested in ancient Russian culture. The sadness was so intense and deep that it made me ponder the history of the Russian people, among whom I was born and raised. This sadness literally turned my heart inside out, revealing the part Russians hide within themselves. No specific song came to mind, but I was peering into the soul space from which these songs are born. There was a sea of tears, but these were not tears of self-pity. Behind that sadness was hidden love—a quiet and flowing love, typical of northern peoples, like a river. The shamanic songs in the Amazonian language sung by Jorge and Maki were very sunny. They were filled with light, joy, and warmth. At that moment, I thought about how differently various peoples express their connection to this great force. Or maybe this force has different facets that we can perceive in different environments. In reality, all peoples have both sad and joyful songs. But there are unique shades characteristic of specific cultures. And at the ceremony, representatives of different cultures were present. It was fascinating to recognize how the culture in which a person is formed influences their perception of cosmic forces.

About a meter away from me sat Svetlana. I saw her both as a body and as a glowing energy cocoon. At some point, I became curious to see what would happen if I made contact on the level of the cocoons and partially merged them. And I did so. At that moment, the speed of my perception increased several times. It can be described as if I had been flying in a personal plane and then switched to a two-seater spacecraft! The speed was so great that the mind could no longer keep up. I saw that we were rushing into some kind of infinity, and the speed was only increasing. At one point, I said, «stop!» Apparently, it was starting to feel like a complete loss of «I.» And my rational mind decided to maintain some control. I remember perceiving Svetlana as the Indian goddess of love, Lakshmi. It would be more accurate to say that I saw in her the manifested energy represented by this goddess. I had no other suitable images in my mind. During that ceremony, I occasionally felt brief flashes of jealousy. This happened because I saw that Svetlana channeled the flow of love more purely than I did. She was more open and more easily merged her energy with other beings. Of course, this was not the best feeling, a result of some internal issues related to egotistical attachment. Later, I realized that at the level of perception where Svetlana was, she could only exist with complete openness and trust in the shamans leading the ceremony and in existence as a whole. I, like many men, was more focused on my independence. Since I didn’t have much manifest love energy, and therefore trust, I avoided deep contacts with others. I knew that if I attuned to someone with the intention of merging energy, thoughts of competition might arise in me. Well, that was the legacy of the past. I had spent much time among people who valued strength far more than love for one’s neighbor. And for every mistake in life, one must pay somehow unless you can correct them immediately.

Nevertheless, I had wonderful interactions with other beings at the ceremony, whom I also perceived as deities. I particularly want to write about Vels—a person who left a bright and kind mark on my soul. Vels looks like a very tall and handsome young black man. He has a striking appearance: long black hair in thick braids, kind and cheerful eyes. It was a huge surprise for all of us to learn that this radiant young man was 49 years old. For Vels, this was his sixty-something Ayahuasca ceremony. He had undergone ceremonies with Maki, Jorge, and Salon. According to him, it was the Ayahuasca ceremonies, and of course, regular meditation that made him who he is. For Vels, it’s all summed up in one word—love. Vels is a professional musician who plays jazz in the nightclubs of California’s coast. Due to a hand injury, he has temporarily paused his music career. Vels also helps some people master meditation practices. Along with Jared and other friends from California, Vels is involved in creating and developing Omniversity, as they call their educational institution. But they don’t just engage in teaching and meditation. They grow organic produce on land they bought for this purpose. They also have many wellness programs. I want to describe one episode of my interaction with Vels during the second ceremony. At one point in my immersion, I began to feel discomfort in my spine. The problem of spinal curvature constantly occupies a significant portion of my attention. Regular yoga and other practices haven’t fully resolved this issue. It has a long history. But during the ceremony, as soon as the problem began to be felt, Vels approached me and gently adjusted my spine, aligning the flow of energy. He also walked around the ceremonial space with an unusual string instrument. Unfortunately, I don’t remember what it was called. Vels would approach each person and direct the sounds of his music toward them. He was likely acting based on inner knowledge that this would help cleanse our energy. I enjoyed interacting with him because he radiated a bright and harmonious energy.

I still can’t describe everything that was happening in my consciousness during the second ceremony, let alone what was happening in the consciousness of the other beings present. But I felt I had gained an experience of such magnitude that it changed me, and thus, my entire life. I had already grown somewhat accustomed to the fact that some superconscious force, whose presence I have more or less sensed for the past fourteen years, occasionally initiates periods of particular transformation in my life. I believe these are periods when I most fully focus my attention on this force and consciously open myself to its positive influence. Afterward, my destiny takes a leap forward, and new dimensions appear in my life. Immediately after the second Ayahuasca ceremony, I couldn’t understand what transformation had occurred within me or what the consequences might be. At first, I even decided not to share what I experienced at the ceremony with my friends. I wanted to take a pause and figure out what was happening. I remember listening to those who were willing to share their experiences. It was very interesting, but their descriptions didn’t resemble how I could describe my experience. Andrey said he had been somewhere he didn’t want to return from at all. His glow carried the brightness of those beautiful spaces that opened up to him during the journey. Svetlana shared many fascinating stories. Before going to sleep, we sat on her bed, and I listened to her tale. I could feel how deep and significant her experience was. But I wasn’t yet ready to talk about mine.