Impressions from Viktor, a participant in the «Native Amazonian Shamanism» expedition held in February 2010.
I’d like to start with a quote by Benjamin Franklin: «We are all born ignorant, but one must work hard to remain stupid.» To me, this phrase perfectly reflects modern life. I’d even say that children have far more purity, light, and spirituality than many adults. As we grow up, we forget the light within us. The light is present in everyone without exception, but unfortunately, in many people, it’s obscured. Everyday problems, the burdens of the modern world, and the influence of mass media lead to a shift in values and self-denial. Our lesser side emerges—fear, greed, aggression, lack of compassion, a drive towards self-destruction. Sadly, all this and much more are companions of modern man, and we work very hard to maintain them.
Upon arrival in Lima, we were greeted by Konstantin, an amazing person whose appearance didn’t quite match his inner state. He stayed with us throughout our journey, and for that, I’m especially grateful.
Peru, to me, feels like a child—somewhat simple and naive, yet retaining its purity. Despite the dire poverty in Peru, I didn’t see anger or aggression in the eyes of Peruvians toward us. During walks in Lima, people passing by would smile and greet us. There was a gentle melancholy in their eyes, but I couldn’t tell whether it was due to their problems or perhaps a longing for us.
It’s common to consider Asia—Nepal, Tibet, India—as the spiritual center of the world. Crowds of pilgrims flock to these countries seeking enlightenment. However, it seems to me that there’s more spirituality in Peru than in those countries combined. During our trip, I was fortunate enough to attend seven ceremonies with three different shamans. In Tarapoto, we were welcomed by Jorge Gonzalez, and in Pucallpa, we met Don Benjamin and Don Marcelo. We also visited the Shipibo village of Payan, where Don Benjamin and five other shamans worked with us. The ceremonies with different shamans were vastly different, but all seven were invaluable experiences.
It’s worth noting that before heading to Peru, my wife decided to research the ceremonies and ayahuasca online. I think it would have been more productive to read a cheap tabloid novel. The reviews were filled with sarcasm and comments like «You might as well smoke some weed in Amsterdam.» No wonder a friend of mine once called the internet the world’s toilet. Friends, ignore all the comments and follow your heart. If you’re lucky, you might find one objective review among a hundred negative ones. The truth is, everything depends on the shaman and on you—this is your personal journey, so don’t spoil it with others’ fears.
The first three ceremonies took place in Tarapoto at the «House of the Heart» with Jorge Gonzalez. Jorge struck me as an interesting and caring person. Every day, except Sundays, he helps people in his clinic. In the evenings, every other day, he held ceremonies with us.
Imagine a skyscraper, its upper floors stretching high into the sky, disappearing into space, while its lower floors delve deep into the earth. Each floor is the size of a football stadium. Now, imagine yourself living in a tiny two-by-two room. The room is isolated, and you can’t see the entire floor. This room represents your world—all your knowledge, experience, worldview—and it’s confined to a small, isolated space on one floor.
During the first ceremony, information came to me in layers. I began to understand the meaning behind the saying that the human brain is actually very slow. First, I saw the entire floor on which I live. I relived my birth, recalled memories from past lives, felt a connection with the members of our group, and eventually with all of life. At that point, my brain—or rather, my consciousness—sounded the alarm: «Why do I need all this? What am I supposed to do with it now?» And that was just one floor of mine—how many more are there? At that moment, I realized what the fear of responsibility truly means. Responsibility in its fullest sense. I understood those who say they wish they hadn’t remembered. But the Universe and the Creator had already played their cards.
There was an interesting moment during this ceremony. On a subconscious level, without fully realizing it, I feared that coming to Peru and attending the ceremonies wasn’t my conscious choice. I was afraid that some unknown force was leading me without my will. They showed me this fear and allowed me to choose between light and darkness. I understood that a force was indeed guiding me, but the choice was conscious, and I have no regrets.
From what I understand, ayahuasca opens people to something much stronger, and these are not mere hallucinations—it’s a chance to correct your world. All those esoteric teachings we read become practical reality—your own experiences. And it doesn’t matter whether you remember the visions after the ceremony or not. The process continues without your conscious participation. The visions are just reflections, ripples on the water; the real healing work happens deep within. However, don’t think that a kind shaman will do all the work for you. It’s not like that. Throughout this and other lives, we all accumulate unresolved issues, and only we can resolve them. These are lessons for each of us. But rest assured, they will guide you to the light, and then the real work is yours.
So much happened during the first and subsequent ceremonies that it’s impossible to describe it all. Some things cannot be put into words; others would take too much time. However, for me, the turning point came after the first ceremony. I felt a complete sense of unity with the group, an openness toward all its members, and a realization that it wasn’t a coincidence we had all gathered there. This was especially surprising given how closed-off and distrustful I had been. Just a few hours earlier, we were strangers to each other, but now, it felt like we were all close. I had the impression that Jorge paired people up during the ceremonies. He showed them their flaws, but through other people, like a mirror. It made it easier to work on issues without personal emotions getting in the way, and the closed-off nature dissolved.
Immediately after the ceremony, deep into the night, my brain kicked in. It brought up the eternal question: «What was real?» «Can I trust what I saw, or was it all just my imagination?» Everyone grapples with this question. Friends, think with your heart—it won’t deceive you. I had to stop analyzing the situation and trust my feelings, my soul. I think I made the right choice.
I’d like to describe one more day—the day after the first, or maybe the second, ceremony. On that day, we went to a lake, and due to heavy rain, the road became difficult to navigate. On the way back, our bus got stuck. There was no choice but to push the bus, sinking into the wet, slippery clay. Somewhere on the edge of my mind, I wondered what American or Western European tourists would do in such a situation. Probably wait for help. While we all cursed the driver and pushed the bus, I could feel Jorge’s invisible presence. He seemed to be watching the scene from the sidelines with a mischievous smile. Physically, he wasn’t with us, but the feeling that he was nearby never left. It was as if Jorge was saying, «Let’s see what you’re capable of. Do you have the strength?» It’s worth noting that during the first ceremony, I felt several times like I was being tested. Various signs accompanied our entire trip. Those who have read The Alchemist will understand.
Leaving Peru, I felt a light sadness. There’s something about this country—the people, the nature—that pulls you back. Thanks to this trip, I immersed myself in a world I had never known before. I found an old friend—an unforgettable feeling. I strengthened my trust in people and my love for myself. My relationship with my beloved wife became even stronger. At last, I was able to find myself.
I’d like to end with words from George Ivanovich Gurdjieff:
«I sought the path to truth and found it. There are three paths, but I found a fourth. There is the path of the fakir, where a man sacrifices the comforts of his body in search of knowledge—he doesn’t eat, sits in one position, wears chains. By resisting the body, he finds God. Then there is the path of the monk, who disciplines his heart. Through a wave of love for the divine and fear of hell, he reaches God. Then there is the path of the yogi, where the mind undergoes rigorous discipline. And there is a fourth path. A man walking this path uses the merits of all three paths, comparing, generalizing, working simultaneously in all directions. He does this not by retreating to a monastery, not by locking himself in an office, but while being in the thick of life.»
—George Ivanovich Gurdjieff, I Am Gurdjieff! I Will Not Die!
If you’ve read my review to the end, then you are on the path of self-exploration. Very soon, your cycle of growth will conclude, and a new one will begin. I hope your experience will be a successful one.
