Drinking Amazonian Jungle Juice

Visiting my 31st country, and a return visit at that, I experienced my first true taste of culture shock. I had returned to the jungle of Peru. It was black, except for the light of the tobacco from the shaman pipes. The “maloka”, a traditional enclosed ceremony space, was filled with 6 shamans and 20 westerners preparing to drink ayahuasca. The room echoed with the sound of Icaro’s, songs taught to the Shamans by the plant during their multi-hour trip from ingesting the plants “medicine.” After 30 days of strict preparation; no sex, salt, sugar, meat, caffeine, or marijuana, and countless hours researching both the psychedelic affects of the DMT in this plant, and the healing testimonials from spiritual seekers around the globe, university researchers, and national geographic writers; I’m was ready to drink.
This night travelers, ranging from the typical suburban American to an extraterrestrial possessed healer, sat with the Shipibo shaman, native to the north of Peru, after days of airplane, boat and muddy foot travel through the jungle. We arrived to inhabit our facilities, including “tambos” to sleep in, without running water, but luckily with freshly installed sawdust-composting toilets. Despite the rats and termites, the jungle was welcoming.
The warnings we received about ingesting this mucky green substance causing “la purga” aka intense vomiting, are that “she” is a jealous mother. Drinking the plant could mean facing your own “death”, in a shamanic sense. Other complications included the tail of a disobedient pot-smoker who was nearly killed by the “aya’s” jealousy. “Oh god, am I nuts for being here? Everything smells weird, it’s dark, the sounds are so eerie.” I sit in front of my shot glass of green goo trying hard to focus in on my intentions for the night. Thoughts of the day in my head, conversations about spiritual realms, a walk introducing us to sorcery plants teaching shamans about the dark side. “Plant teachers? The dark side? Am I at Hogwarts? Geez.”
I drink it. I sit in silence with the other participants waiting for something to happen. “Oh god, I am tripping hallucinogenic drugs in the Amazon with strangers. It could last hours, and I’m not allowed to talk.” I lie down and fall asleep. Suddenly a creepy song and a little old grandmother leaning over my face awaken me. I sit up, close my eyes, and meet her face to face. I see the DNA strands infamous to the ayahuasca, which by claims of some spiritualists enters your body and energy field clearing out dark energy causing both purging, in various forms, and healing to your DNA. But my DNA strands are chains of neon colored flip-flops. I panic, get up, and run out. I sit in a chair next-to a facilitator. But her face has transformed to the head of a neon geometric Ganesha. Something shifts; I realize how silly this is. I begin laughing wholeheartedly, and sit back and enjoy the shock. Hey, at least I didn’t puke!