The Southern Cross
As we worked our way into the jungle, we had three landslides to contend with. A large truck was blocking our path and it took about an hour to break free from some loose rubble at the foot of an an epic waterfall. We joined the other trapped travelers to shovel rocks and help rebuild the washed out road. This was one of the most scenic parts of the drive, and I was grateful we were stuck somewhere so breathtakingly beautiful.
I took the opportunity to snap a few photos.
The second slide was about four feet tall, all sticks and rubble and sludge. We had to wait for the earth mover to clear the third and largest slide that lay just beyond, before it could even reach us. This took hours, but the delay gave us plenty of time to talk and get to know each other.
When we finally started moving again, we could see the breadth and scope of the third and final landslide. Huge boulders and broken trees littered the road. A deep scar ran down the length of the towering mountainside.
The sun was setting by the time we made it to Pilcopata, and it was pitch black when we reached the final river before Salvación. Due to the unseasonable amount of rain in the days prior, the river had risen substantially. The water was deep and moving very quickly. It took a long time to cross, and it was debatable whether or not our van could make it.
The following day, we booked a private pickup truck instead of the usual rickety old bus. There were only five seats so I ended up in the truck-bed with the luggage. It was dusty and bumpy, but nice to be out in the open air instead of on the crowded bus.
We arrived at Parign Hak, and made the usual introductions. There was a man there who I’d never met before, a local from Shintuya. Jesús was a friend and former colleague of Jessica’s from her days as a tour guide in Manú National Park.
Years ago Jesús had been working with a group of park rangers on the edge of Manú attempting to make peace with an uncontacted tribe. It wasn’t successful, so the rangers returned to the station one final time to pack up their belongings. As they did, an arrow flew in through the window and landed in his back. Doctors in Cusco surgically removed it, but the arrowhead remained undetected and lodged in his shoulder blade for a month. Jesús was going to stay at Parign Hak and sit in ceremony with us, in hopes of healing from that experience.
I spent the day resting and mentally preparing for the first ceremony. That night, thick clouds rolled in as we trudged through the jungle towards the maloka. We heard scurrying in the branches above and our flashlights revealed a Four-Eyed Opposum peering down curiously at us. As we drank the medicine, the sky opened up and began pouring. I wasn’t feeling the effects, so I took a second cup when offered. Lightning struck every couple of minutes illuminating the otherwise pitch black maloka. Violent thunder followed suit almost instantly, shaking the ground with a deafening boom.
Perhaps because of the dramatic weather I found myself unable to relax fully into the experience. I could feel the Ayahuasca in me, but in a strange and unfamiliar way. It was strong yet not visual at all. A total first for me. I felt like I was being blocked by something. I puked violently although I was unsure what the purging was connected to.
The next day we embarked on the usual hike through the jungle.
We caught a glance of an incredibly rare species of eagle. Jessica pointed out a kapok tree, whose large spikes are believed to have evolved to ward off giant prehistoric sloths.
We reached the first river, which was much higher than when we had crossed it in the past. We took off our gum boots and rolled up our pants, then Alberto and Jesús helped us cross.
We sat and smoked mapacho on the roots of a familiar and friendly tree.
Alberto relayed the story of his jaguar tooth necklace. I held the smooth fang in my hand, admiring its massive size while imagining the beast it once belonged to.
Up in the trees we spotted a strange bird whose chicks have vestigial claws on their wings. We finished the hike and reached the river we had rafted across with Darren and Cathy the month before. The water was at least twice as deep and the raft long gone. Alberto took our belongings and crossed first. After stumbling a bit and nearly getting swept downstream, he narrowly made it across to the other side. With no other option, we linked arms and three by three forged the raging river by foot.
This time we didn’t bother rolling up our pants or taking off our boots, as the water rose well above our waists, and the boots gave us better traction on the slippery rocks below. The current was incredibly strong. Alberto and Yordi grabbed my arms, advising me to keep my eyes on the shoreline. Don´t look down.
We finally made it to the other side, and shook out our boots before heading back to Parign Hak.
After changing and napping, we went to the conference hall to prepare for the second ceremony. Once again we received ceremonial Harakmbut body paint.
I was having trouble letting go, and the Ayahuasca took forever to kick in. It lasted an incredibly long time. So long in fact that I was still feeling the effects once the candle was lit, well after everyone else was back to baseline. The following I jotted down in my journal, while under the influence of the medicine:
Still sort of in it as I write this, although it’s fading. Interesting night. Seemed to pick up from where I left off on the whole “sorcery” thing. I felt like I was stuck on the dark side earlier. Except I was enjoying it. Kinda scared myself, so I called Jessica over. She brought me back to the center. It was like the last time was asking me to choose a side or a path… I don’t think I really answered it before. Realized tonight that my answer lies in the way I live my life and the choices that I make. I can make some grand sweeping declaration for the light side, even to the ayahuasca. But the dark will never go away. And I don’t want it to. It’s necessary for balance.
Had some interesting visuals, a lot of prehistoric creatures, giant sloths, saber tooth jaguars, birds with claws on their wings. All probably related to our hike earlier. I tried playing a game where I would visualize the plant spirit connected to the icaro. Jessica busted out a new one. I don’t know how many songs she has, but I doubt I’ve heard them all. I think I broke through whatever was blocking me in the last ceremony. I hope to go deep Friday night. A parting kiss to Ayahuasca and to the Amazon. Not adios but hasta luego. As I was drifting off an interesting image came to me, something similar to Van Gough’s Starry Night except it was moving and made out of human hand prints.
As I was relaying my experience the next morning, Antonia commented that a good healer should be aware of both the light and dark aspects of the medicine. That they need to understand their own darkness in order to deal with it in others. It gave me some food for thought. I pondered aloud why the medicine had taken so long to kick in, and why it is always so hard for me to relax and let go. Jessica told me I need to have more patience.
We went to the hot springs. The cuddly cat was nowhere to be found. According to the owners he had been bitten by a snake. He was alive somewhere, but supposedly wobbling around with a giant swollen head. As always it was incredibly relaxing and we took a group photo.
After dinner we met back up in the conference hall. Antonia brought her drum and sang a beautiful song in Spanish then another in an indigenous language from Mexico. Vicky sang a song in Harakmbut that had been passed down by her father (a first according to Jessica).
At one point I noticed some of the locals looking and me and laughing. I asked Jessica what they were saying. Apparently they performed a type of magic on me called amarre or macumba. It’s intended to tie someone down to keep them in a certain place. Sort of a joking method to ensure my return to the Amazon. I smiled and nodded, picturing the Ayahuasca vines wrapped around my limbs, pulling me back into the dark jungle.
The night sky was perfectly clear. After packing up for the ceremony, I waited outside and saw a shooting star cross the sky. As we walked to the maloka Jessica pointed out the Southern Cross on the horizon. It was something I´d never seen before... or maybe I had seen it but just not recognized it. The CSNY song “Southern Cross” popped into my head.
“When you see the Southern Cross for the first time, you understand now why you came this way.”
I hummed it quietly to myself as we settled into the maloka.
The song was still stuck in my head even after choking down the foul medicine. Instead of my usual internal rambling of ‘Is it working?’ ‘Did I drink enough?’ 'What if it doesn’t kick in again?' I focused on the lyrics to the song.
“Think about how many times I have fallen. Spirits are using me, larger voices calling.”
I started feeling nauseous minutes after drinking the medicine. I purged early and could taste the distinctively earthy flavor of the Ayahuasca as it came back up. Worried it hadn’t had enough time to settle in my system, for a split second I contemplated drinking my own vomit. I shook the thought away, realizing that it was in fact already at work, and unlike the previous ceremony was coming on hard and fast.
I could see deeper into the jungle, to uncontacted Amazonian tribes. I could feel how scared they are to make contact, and how society has given them no reason to believe otherwise. I felt a surge of compassion and empathy for these people who remain in the last untouched parts of the planet. As though they exist in some kind of nature preserve for the few human beings still living without cellphones and Starbucks and all the other maddening and isolating bullshit thrust upon our depressed and self-destructive world. In a very literal way, I could see their way of life getting progressively smaller as ours encroaches in, grinding them underfoot.
Then, after a handful of unusual and somewhat dark ceremonies, I was back in a place of pure bliss and love. It was incredibly colorful and playful. Almost childlike, and reminiscent of a Lisa Frank illustration. I saw a wall of holographic Superman logos raining down around me (SuperKat?). I felt a tremendously rare and much needed ego boost, along with a comforting reassurance that I would in fact return to the jungle soon.
It was indescribably beautiful but far too brief. Perhaps a metaphor for my visit to Peru itself. As quickly as the effects came on, they wore off twice as fast. In what felt like only an hour into the ceremony I was completely back to normal. Later on, Jessica came over and sang to me. Though I was no longer under the influence, I started crying thinking about how much I would miss her and how hard it would be to say goodbye.
The drive out of the jungle was much smoother than the journey in. We arrived in Cusco around 9 p.m. or so, and I passed out the moment I reached my bed.
The next morning I ate an ungodly amount of french toast at a nearby cafe, then inadvertently stumbled upon this strange festival in downtown Cusco.
I booked my ticket to Machu Piccu a few days after my return from the jungle. That´s another story... and one I´m not sure I´ll ever get around to relaying in this blog. I believe this might be the last post. At least for a while.
I´m not going to end this with a boring cliche like “I found myself in the Amazon“. The process of self-discovery seems to be both ongoing and never ending...
What I did find was a complex and awe inspiring eco-system beyond my wildest dreams. A place with more biodiviersity than I ever thought possible.
A matrix of intelligent plant and animal life caught up in a magnificently balanced dance.
Perhaps most importantly, a plant medicine borne of this jungle. Real magic. Ancient and powerful. Earth shaking, life changing. Ask me how. Please.
I also found a myriad of wonderful and caring friends. Indigenous allies who fight and persist and struggle every day for their own dignity and for ours.
And visitors to the jungle, like myself, wrestling with their demons, plunging into the great unknown with so much openness and courage and hope.
Last but not least, I found an unbelievably amazing teacher. An adventurous soul, with a wonderful sense of humor. Someone who embodies the very spirit of the Ayahuasca.
“Cause the truth you might be running from is so small, but it's as big as the promise, the promise of a coming day.“
I know the rain forest will welcome you back with open arms my darling.
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