When I went to Peru for the first time last year, I was so grateful for the healing affects of ayahuasca. The medicine cleared my depression out and I came back home feeling great for a good six months.
After my second trip to Peru in April 2015, I was still grateful, but left with a feeling that something was amiss. Although I had some beautiful experiences, came away with significant insights, and healed my relationship with my father, I also had some negative experiences.
For one thing, during my second week there, I was "attacked" by a negative energy after a ceremony. The ceremony itself was one of the most frustrating ayahuasca experiences I'd ever had. For the entire night, I was in a state of feeling tired, mentally groggy, and unfocused. I almost felt like I could have fallen asleep, and struggled the entire night to open up to the medicine--which never happened. Finally I was sung to by one of the shamans, and I could feel the song clearing out my energy body. I went back to my mat and was relieved to feel much better, much clearer.
Then, the ceremony ended.
The head shaman closed the ceremony, and within a few moments I started feeling terrible. The energy in my body felt like it was crinkling up upon itself with a heaviness I can't explain. I suddenly hated being in the maloka, hated being with all these people around me. Every cell in my body despised being at the retreat center. If there was a way to leave the jungle and go back to Iquitos, I would have gone in a split second.
I curled up on my mat in a tight fetal position and pulled the blanket over my entire body, including my head. I just wanted to be holed up in a cave, or maybe buried under the ground, anywhere but here. After a while I sat up with my head between my knees. One of the retreat facilitators was asking people how they were doing from across the maloka.
He called my name and asked, "How are you doing?"
I said, "I'm not doing so good right now." And that was the end of the conversation.
There was no indication of concern and no one offered to help.
Finally, we all drifted off to sleep. The next morning I was surprised to find myself alone in the maloka, the last person to wake up. Usually I was the first to awake, long before the sun came up. Now, it was daylight and breakfast was already underway.
I still felt like shit, like I couldn't stand to be around the energy of anyone else. I knew there was no way I'd be able to stand being in the maloka around so many people for our circle talk. However, after eating and settling in for the morning, some of the darkness had lifted enough for me to make it to the sharing circle.
When it was my turn to talk I explained everything that happened. The head shaman said that I was attacked by a negative energy and that I'd feel better by the next day. While people were still sharing their experiences, I gathered my things and left the maloka. I went back to my tambo and felt strongly compelled to write the following on a piece paper: Sometimes a person just needs some fucking compassion! I then cried for a good two hours straight.
In a way, the shaman was right. I did feel better after "crying it out" that day. However, I spent the rest of my time at the center feeling generally weepy and at times crying for no apparent reason. The facilitators and helpers are there to talk, for the most part. But there is no real support for anyone going through a really hard time. Guests are lucky if they find other retreat goers to connect with to get the support they need. On the last day there, I sat on the retreat porch crying while waiting for our boat to arrive. I just felt incredibly sad and I didn't really know why.
The retreat facilitator offered to meet with me for dinner that night in Iquitos with some other people. This helped me feel less alone, although the night felt a little awkward since only a couple people in our group spoke english.
My first week back home I was incredibly sick with a bad cold. I could barely get out of bed. Then I became incredibly depressed. I realized that nothing in my life was working out, that nothing in my life ever worked out. Everything that I did, everything I strived for, was for naught. Life became meaningless. There was nothing to live for. I was a failure at everything. My life was worthless. I wanted to die, and in my prayers I begged the spirits to kill me. However, I no longer felt connected to the spirits. I felt I had been abandoned by them. I was alone in my own darkness.
Thank god my shamanic healer was here. We conducted some healings over the next few weeks which helped to take the edge off of the depression. I began a disciplined meditation practice to help my psyche recover: meditation 30 minutes a day, twice a day. I also started studying A Course in Miracles again. I then started reading books about meditation and buddhism, especially those written by the Dalai Lama. These books helped restore me to life.
It took a good three months for me to come back up to a healthy level again. I am so thankful to be in a good place again, a place where I can pray and feel love and feel gratitude and sense Spirit once again. I still meditate 30 minutes a day, twice if I can, and do other spiritual practices as I see fit.
Do I blame the retreat center for my depression? No, I do not. I believe the depression was caused by my own "ego death." I could distinctly feel that it was related to my own feelings of failure and unworthiness. These feelings of failure and unworthiness were always in the background, hidden by my hopes, dreams and plans to create something great in my life. Well, when I realized those "great plans" weren't coming to fruition, my ego had to die an incredibly painful death.
What I do blame the retreat center for is their lack of personal connection and sincere compassion. The center was very masculine based with very little feminine energy. There is a very distinct feeling of detachment. People at this center may ask how you are doing, but very rarely have I ever felt that the facilitators and shamans were concerned on more than a superficial level. This sense of caring is healing in itself. I sincerely believe that the art of deep care and compassion can be even more healing, with more enduring results, than any amount of ayahuasca ceremonies.
True healers heal from the heart.
Thankfully, while recovering from my depression, I had the blessing and opportunity to participate in two ayahuasca ceremonies from a healer with true impeccability. This healer holds a space so sacred, so clean, that I will probably never do ceremonies in Peru again. This healer has helpers that check on each participant at least once during the night to make sure everyone is doing okay. Most importantly, I could sense the heart-filled compassion emanating from the healer and his assistants. It was moving to witness. The healer and his assistants are approachable, and are willing to listen with deep care and concern for whatever you are going through.
Blessings.
