My Ayahuasca Experience: Why Spiritual Bypassing is Never the Answer

There is a tendency within the spiritual community to place psychedelics and plant medicines on a pedestal.

Having dabbled with mushrooms and receiving some healing benefits from them, I was intrigued when I heard about Ayahuasca.

Ayahuasca is a plant medicine originating from various parts of the Amazon rainforest, namely Peru and Colombia. The main active ingredient is DMT which can cause hallucinations and other sensations that facilitate the healing of anything from personal trauma and mental illness to physical illness, and generational scars.

Over centuries Shamans have learned to extract the DMT by soaking or boiling the stems of B. caapi (sometimes called ayahuasco), a tropical vine, with the leaves of the chacruna plant. The result is a liquid which people drink in a ceremonial setting. Depending on the dose and mixture, the effect usually lasts around 4 hours, most people purge (puke, defecate, cry, etc) as emotional and physical toxins are released from the body. This is not an exhaustive overview but should give you enough of an understanding to continue reading.

Boasted for its crown chakra opening abilities, countless testimonials are claiming Aya is responsible for curing their PTSD, depression, alcoholism, drug dependence…the list goes on and on.

I could hardly believe what I was hearing/reading. Tucked away in the Amazonian rainforest appeared to be a miracle cure to all my problems. Or, so I thought.

I researched Ayahuasca and peoples experiences with it for several years. I was endlessly baffled by the experiences and life-changing results I was seeing all over the internet.

By this time (around 2015) Aya was becoming a bit of a trend amidst the spiritually inclined but its reach was certainly widening. I felt uneasy about the way westerners seemed to be swooping in to take advantage of the medicine. Aya retreats were popping up around the world, hundreds of miles from the plant’s origins and artificial substitutes to the medicine were being concocted. Although I wanted to try the medicine, I knew I wanted to consume it in its natural habitat with a traditional shaman present.

A Chilean woman I met on one of my early travels told me that westerners don’t realise that there are countless remedies from the Amazon. Aya isn’t necessarily suited to everyone. She told me it would be best if people sought the advice of an experienced Shaman who could recommend the correct medicine for you individually.

I only wish I heeded her advice…

In 2017, I went travelling around South America. My final stop was Peru, where 3 of my friend from home met me to spend the last two weeks together. We immediately hopped on a tiny aircraft to Puerto Maldonado, to start our journey in the Amazon rainforest.

We had all hoped to take part in an Ayahuasca ceremony. The river lodge we were staying at stated that it was something they offered and we were heavily inclined as it was the most affordable Aya option we could find.

However, when our boat pulled up to the lodge site and we saw the small, frankly tacky, shack (no offence) where the aya would take place, I think we all had our doubts.

You can’t make this shit up, this is actually where it took place.

After some thought and discussion, we decided to ahead with it anyway. The young man in charge of our stay rang up the local shaman, we paid some money, and that was it. We were going to be drinking the mother Aya that night.

I can hardly believe how long it’s been. For years the thought or mention of Ayahuasca would stir up feelings and sensations of dissociation as if I was taking the medicine all over again.

The shaman and his two assistants, one we think might have been his daughter, didn’t speak any English. We had to rely on the broken translations of our guide who struggled to convey to us what was happening and what we needed to do. Of course, I would never criticise someone for not speaking English, especially when I am in a foreign country. However, in this scenario, the lack of understanding and the disarray of it all, left me feeling anxious from the start.

A few hours into the ceremony, having had a few visions and sensations, the shaman asked the group if anyone wanted more. I immediately said “yes.” I felt like there was more for me to learn and I wanted the full experience. The shaman did some chants around my head and waited a bit longer to see if I was sure. After a while when he asked again I insisted I wanted a second dose.

I should interject to say that at this time I had been backpacking for over three months. Having been eating poorly to save money along the way and I probably had parasites and god knows what else. Being in a less than ideal physical state likely played a role in my experience. Even still, taking two doses was not wise.

As soon as the second cup drained down my throat the effect of the combined doses was exponentially magnified. It’s impossible for me, or anyone who has taken Aya, to fully describe what happens ad no two experiences are alike, but at that moment, I felt like I was shot out of my body. I visited what I can only describe as parallel universes; then an alien spacecraft; DNA-like structures were enveloping my body; I saw the Peruvia God of creation (I only realised who the figure was afterwards when I saw paintings of him around Cusco; I saw dragons, the tree of life, oh, and lots of bugs. (btw this is only scratching the surface)

Having completely lost track of time and space I could have been there for years. I also struggled to purge (throw up) whereas everyone else seemed to be able to release just fine. I had the strength of two doses of Aya circulating my bloodstream when at least some of the medicine should have left my body soon after taking it.

So, when the Shaman started to close the ceremony with a chant I was only partially brought back into my body. When we left the Aya bubble to go to our lodges for the night I had the profound feeling of being unprotected and unsafe.

I felt like my soul was naked. I had no protection when we left the ceremonial field and I had no clue how to protect myself — or ask for help.

I tried to sleep, hoping that it would be like experiences of “overdoing it” with other substances and I could just sleep it off.

However, Aya doesn’t work like that, since she comes from a similar plane as dreams. I lied silently in my bed as I listened to my friends snoring around me. All the while I was being assaulted by images of death, snakes, bugs, and countless other overwhelming images and sensations. When I opened my eyes everything around me was made up of rows and rows of spiders, bugs, and worms. When I closed my eye, I was thrown into a pit of skulls and bones.

Eventually, my moans must have woken my friend in the adjacent room. She asked if I wanted an ice pack (God bless her for being so prepared) and I earnestly said “yes!” She came in with some water and the ice pack, my gratitude at that moment was immense, but I could hardly mutter a thank you.

My innocent friend’s simply thought I wasn’t feeling well. Little did they know the torment I was enduring. I wasn’t so much afraid that I would die (although I certainly was that), but rather that my body would live but my mind and spirit would be broken. That’s another thing Aya taught me, that people can’t read your mind. So you better learn and practise asking for help when it’s easy because when you really need it you’ll want to know how to reach out.

I crawled into the bed next to mine where my other childhood friend slept soundly. The steadiness of her breath as she slept deeply, combined with the cold comforting sensation of the ice, saved me. My friend’s solid body and the sharpness of the cold tethered me to the earth when it felt like at any moment I might float away forever.

I was still being bombarded by terrifying images and my body felt utterly taxed by the hours of anxious stimulation. Finally, feeling like at any moment I might combust, I begged spirit, I begged mother Aya to make it stop. I pleaded that I didn’t want to feel like that anymore and was ready to let go. Finally, just then I felt the urge. I ran to the toilet and purged everything that needed to come up.

I was exhausted beyond comprehension. Even though it was probably the wee hours of the morning at that point, the sun had not yet risen and I still didn’t feel out of the dark.

Sleep was off the table, but I started to gain some awareness of my body. I went outside to the hammock and waited for the Sun.

As I patiently waited, I vowed that If the sun came up and I was still there, still me, still alive, that I would stop hurting my body with substances that didn’t serve me. At that moment, I was thinking about cocaine and pills. Although I was not a heavy or frequent user by any means, I knew I had done some damage to my body and nervous system from times of excess. Little did I know, that my vow to take care of this vessel known as my body would stretch so much further.

As you might have guessed since you are reading this now, the sun did come up and I didn’t die. Although I was drained and disoriented, I was surprised (and grateful) by how quickly I was able to speak and operate as a human being. Even climbing Machu Pichu just a few days later.

However, the real healing didn’t begin until I was back home in Canada. Several months went by before I was able to open up to my friends about what was really happening to me that night.

My family was confused and didn’t understand why I was so shaken up after being on ‘holiday’ for months, and I think they must have resented me a little bit.

I suffered from insomnia and an intense fear of sleep for almost a year. Every time I closed my eyes to rest I would be attacked by visions of demonic beings similar to what I saw that first night. In waking life I often felt like I was being watched or preyed upon by spirits. The only people I felt partially safe to express this to were the friends that were with me that night, anyone else I assumed wouldn’t understand or would deem me crazy.

My healing and integration of the Aya experience has been a long and winding road.

Although, in the end, I am grateful for where I am and the strength I had to overcome that experience intact. I also know that I didn’t need to push my mind and body to the brink to achieve healing. (I believe that this is what Aya was trying to teach me)

I still believe that plant medicine is an incredible tool, but it can also be used as a form of spiritual bypassing. Looking back I can see now that despite doing my ‘research’, I was really just looking for a quick fix. I wasn’t willing to wait until I could afford an Aya experience that was more supportive and nourishing. I was impatient and didn’t want to put in the essential time and effort to feel and heal my shit on my own.

Be humble or get humbled, is what Aya taught me. Short cuts simply don’t work in the realm of spiritual development and healing. There is no way around the pain, there is only through. By using spirituality, plant medicine, religion, or anything else as a way to skirt around the hard bits, I can assure you, it will only create more suffering.

I am glad that I am finally in a place where I can share my experience without feeling like I’m leaving my body. I feel that it’s important for people (especially young people), curious about Aya or other plant medicines, to hear this message. The internet and social media often portray an idealised view of Aya and plant medicines; sporting super lean and beautiful people with long hair and golden skin seemingly perfectly in-tune with nature and their bodies — It’s an alluring temptation. Despite my assurance, to myself and others, that I was “ready” for how hard it would be, I wasn’t.

If you are still considering plant medicine or Aya, I invite you to think critically first if you have done the groundwork. Be aware that not all ceremonies or mixtures of Aya are alike and no two experiences are the same (everyone I was with had vastly different experiences). I recommend investing properly so that it takes place in the most supportive environment possible that is still respecting the plant and the culture of its origins. Ensure that you have adequate time to rest and integrate before needing to resume a normal life. And, if stuff comes up that is haunting you after the fact, please find someone you trust to talk to, it’s a lot to carry and you don’t have to do it alone.

I want to share a quick positive that I learned when I was with Aya because I realize this is all sounding really heavy. At one point while I was still in the hut and feeling more protected, Aya showed me a funny circus-like caleidoscope scene (that’s the best way I can describe it). I was giggling at the images and I had the profound message come through that nature, the universe, spirit, the meaning of life, whatever you want to call it, has a sense of humour — that life itself is funny. Spirit wants us to laugh more, not take things so seriously, and to see the hilarity in this bizarre physical realm of life. As I’m writing this it’s funny how much this tiny moment contrasts to the entire experience. Yet, the message was clear and it has helped me find some light amidst what felt like so much darkness that night.

I also don’t regret my experience — as crazy as that may sound — I simply want people to know that it’s not all sunshine and rainbows and to be discerning before making such a massive decision. I don’t regret it perhaps in part because if I were to regret it I feel like it could easily slip into the realm of an intensely traumatising experience. I’m quite mentally resilient and Aya knew how far she could push me, but I also know how much I was resisting letting go during the ceremony (which is key for purging). This has inspired me to dig deeper into shadow work and learn to accept all parts of my being. Aya has taught me so much and for that I am grateful, but will I take part in another ceremony? Time will tell, but for now, I’m just happy to heal from a more grounded place.