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INTRO

I want to begin this episode by sharing a realization I had during my most recent ayahuasca ceremony. 

It was the realization that there’s a lot of “we” inside of “me”.

I’m not alone in here. 

I’ve got my ancestors, and my spirit guides, 

plus other beings I have no name for.

So…

I’m not alone. I’m actually never alone. 

Which is helpful for me to fully integrate

because I’ve spent a lot of my life feeling alone.

So what happened to change that? Well, during the ayahuasca ceremony, 

I experienced the presence of many beings inside me.

Some I recognized, like my dad, my nephews, my maternal grandmother.

Others were new to me, but all of the beings were helping me construct a home, 

a home inside me. 

It was a home for “me”, as well as a home for “we”, for all of the beings present - 

the spirits, energies, presences, whatever you call them.

It was a home for all of us because we are what make up me. 

There’s more than just me inside this vessel I call body, mind, spirit.

And as “we” - me and all these beings - constructed a home within my vessel, 

I experienced that mystical wonder called “ homecoming.”

I felt at home for the first time in my life. 

Home as me, home as we. 

I am home.

It’s been over a decade since I began my intense healing journey and I am finally home.

And yes, it’s odd that my homecoming is more than just me, 

it’s a we, an us, coming home.

My father, my grandmother, my nephew, my ancestors, my spirit guides, and various other beings.

All of us are aspects of me, and all us now reside within “me”.

But they aren’t exclusive to me.

I believe they reside in many of us, simultaneously, because that’s one of their many superpowers

as beings of consciousness.

So, they live within many of us, should we create a home for them..

My experience of homecoming, to me and to we, is the ultimate delight. 

 It makes all the hard work I’ve done over the years fade into softness. 

And now that I’m home, I feel like I can share my journey with ayahuasca. 

So, let’s begin.

What is ayahuasca?

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Ayahuasca is a vine from South America and it has a long history of ceremonial healing.

I’m not going to tell you the specifics because you can research that on your own. 

What I’d like you to know is that I’ve cultivated a deep relationship with this sacred vine. 

My relationship spans continents, countries, twelve years, and many curanderas, 

also known as shamans, or healers.

I’ve participated in more ayahuasca ceremonies than I can count and all of them have led me here. 

To my homecoming. 

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I feel like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz.

I traveled to mysterious lands,

I integrated my mind, my heart, and my soul, 

I pulled back the curtain and saw the truth.

There’s no place like home

An ayahuasca journey is a bit like traveling in Oz.

There are magical times, 

there are scary times, 

there are challenges to overcome,

 and there are blessings bestowed.

But in the end, 

there’s no place like home… there’s no place like home… there’s no place like home.

Home within oneself, 

home as oneself.

So, how did I recover my ruby slippers and find home?

By sitting with Grandmother Ayahuasca, night after night.

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Before I tell you about my nights with Grandmother Ayahuasca,

and how I formed healthy relationships with  Fear, Love, and Home, 

I’d like to share a few terms. 

Maybe you’ve heard them before but I’d like to clarify my meaning of them. 

The first is medicine.

Or medicina.

When I was introduced to ayahuasca I was told it was medicine.

To which I replied, “yeah, I’ve been on antidepressants.” 

To which they replied, 

“That’s a man-made pharmaceutical and it’s made of one or two chemical compounds.

Ayahuasca is nature-made, 

it’s a living plant with many, many  compounds.

These compounds work synergistically to grow a healthy plant, 

they give the plant a natural ability to make well that which is unwell. 

These plant compounds also work synergistically in humans, to grow a healthy person. 

they give the person a natural ability to cure and heal - mind, body, & spirit.

Ayahuasca is nature’s medicine.”

When I heard these they made no sense to me, 

in fact, I was a little worried ayahuasca was a recreational drug, and I’ve never been interested in recreational drugs so I almost didn’t participate. But… 

I was desperate to be well so I flew to the jungles of central America and met Grandmother Ayahuasca.

That was over a decade ago and now I get it.

Medicine - for me - is a substance grown in nature, by nature, 

and used in sacred ceremonies 

to support the integration of my wholeness - 

the unification of mind, body, & spirit

The next word I’d like to explain is ceremony.

When I heard the description of an ayahuasca ceremony it sounded like mysterious rites from a fairy tale,

 or old customs that have long been considered taboo. 

Some even sounded like religious liturgy, 

which I had no interest in replicating.

I didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of ceremony but as I said, I was desperate.

So I went along as best I could. 

After two or three nights of ceremony. I understand. 

Ceremony is the preparation of oneself, along with the preparation of a space, 

in order to communicate beyond everyday speech and language. 

This form of communication penetrates my deepest psyche, 

it alters my perception and induces a greater consciousness within me.

Ceremony sets the stage, it allows me to connect with, communicate with, and commune with unnamed Beings, Presences, Energies, Spirits, etc

.

Over the years, 

I’ve learned that ceremony, 

that rites and rituals done well, are portals of communication.

The final word I’d like to explain is curandera, or curandero.

Curandera is a female healer, and curandero is a male healer.

In the not so distant past, a curandera was either born into a long lineage of medicine healers, 

or was raised as a medicine healer. 

They spent their lives dedicated to the art of healing the community & the land using plants.

I am blessed to have been initiated into ayahuasca ceremony by such a healer.

She is a curandera steeped in the traditions of her Peruvian ancestry.

I owe her, and those of her lineage, more than words of gratitude, for curanderas do more than heal with ayahuasca,

they are stewards of the land, the water, the air, the plants, the animals, etc. 

Curanderas heal both the land and the people.

They hold the two in balance.

And this happens all over the world with many sacred plants and ceremonies.

Ayahuasca is simply the one I was led to.

One other thing I’d like to mention is that the sacred drink called ayahuasca isn’t one plant.

Every ayahuasca brew is made with at least two plants, commonly the second is the chacruna plant.

There’s plenty of literature to explain why this is so and I’ll let you read that on your own.

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So, there’s the basics. Just enough to have a deeper conversation.

I want to begin with the most important thing I learned from Grandmother Ayahuasca..

Life is ceremony. 

Every day is precious.

Every moment is sacred.

 Every breath may be my last.

It’s all very simple. 

And everyone says it all the time.

You see? After twelve years and numerous ceremonies, this is the first and most important thing I want to tell you.

Life is ceremony.

This moment, right now, 

this exact moment, is sacred. 

And it may be your last, or mine. 

And that’s what makes life so precious.

Because we never know when our ceremony will end.

But it will end. Just like every ayahuasca ceremony. 

No matter how difficult, every ceremony has an ending…

just like every day has an ending, 

a sunset.

Life is ceremony.

So let’s begin. 

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Fear

My initiation into ayahuasca was one of fear.

Fear fear fear.

For two very long weeks I participated in seven ceremonies, and in every single one, 

Grandmother Ayahuasca led me to my fear. 

These nights in the jungle were some of the longest and hardest nights of my entire healing journey.

The ceremonies began by dressing in white, smudging, which is a ceremonial term for cleansing the body and mind, this is done by burning a small piece of wood from the Palo Santo tree, and then brushing the sacred smoke over the body. Then there are prayers and blessings for the land, the plants, the animals, the directions, the ancestors, and many more.

And then, it is time. 

Time to drink a mouthful of the dark amber brew called ayahuasca.

The moments just after drinking are when my nerves spike. 

I don’t know what’s going to happen and all I can do is wait for the journey to begin. 

I didn’t wait long these first nights. 

Grandmother was quick to arrive and even quicker to lead me deep into my fear.

Into that place I was terrified to go.

But this time, I wasn’t alone.

Grandmother sat with me. 

All night long.

She sat and sat. 

And I felt and felt. I felt all the things I feared.

I felt my despair, my darkness, my fear of living…

I felt my self-loathing, my suicidal tendencies, my pain, my grief, my personal wounds, 

and my ancestral wounds. 

I felt all the things which led me to take pharmaceutical antidepressants.

Which didn’t work for me. They left me feeling as though I were wearing a thick rubber glove all over my body, my mind, and my heart. 

I was numb.

 This allowed me to exist but I wasn’t living, growing, adapting, maturing.

So I stopped taking them, just before my first ayahuasca ceremonies. 

This allowed me to feel but that was a serious problem because I didn’t know how to feel. 

I only knew how to be numb.

Yet now, deep in the jungles of central America, I was overwhelmed and terrified by feelings.

Night after night I sat with an ancient and immovable Grandmother, 

and felt all the things I hated to feel, 

all the things I was terrified to feel.

This was the story of my first ceremony, and my second ceremony, and my third ceremony.

Every ceremony felt bleak and endless.

And I became sure something was wrong.

I was clearly broken, and ayahuasca was not helping.

I wanted to quit, to run away, to be done.

But I’d come so far and I couldn’t easily get away, I was too deep in the jungle. 

And too deeply committed to my healing, 

so I drank the dark amber brew again.

Only on this night, I asked Grandmother why she kept taking me to this awful place. 

She answered. 

“I’m teaching you to be with yourself, to feel whatever feelings arise.

I’m offering you the greatest healing.

To be home.”

I can’t say why I listened to Grandmother Ayahuasca,

 but something in me trusted her, trusted the medicine, trusted the rituals and rites of the ceremony.

Each night I relaxed a little more and allowed myself to feel Fear, 

both in my mind and my body.

Grandmother encouraged me to speak to Fear, 

to ask questions, 

and listen carefully. 

 This is when I began to see the truth of Fear.

Fear is a teacher, 

And I can live a healthy life by feeling Fear. 

By asking questions and by listening.

Fear was no longer my enemy, it was a signpost, 

pointing me toward deeper truths.

Let me offer a few examples:

Fear of grief taught me that loss and renewal are a natural part of life. 

Fear of pain taught me that my mind was overreacting to the physical sensations of my body.

Fear of loneliness taught me that my perfectionism leads to my isolation.

Fear of suicidal ideations taught me that my beliefs about myself were causing the problem.

Fear of despair taught me that it’s healthy to ask for help.

And the fear of my own fear taught me that I was running from fear, instead of running toward what I love

Like the Rumi poem:

Don’t run from what you fear, 

Run toward what you love.

So. Fear. 

Fear was the guiding force of my first ceremonies in the jungle.

But entwined with my lessons of fear, I was taught many other things. 

Grandmother taught me to relax and breathe when intense emotions arose,

and how to stand inside my own two legs, 

and to trust my intuition, 

and to believe in myself.

She also helped me recover the ancient and sacred power of ceremony.

I recovered the sacred power of prayer, of praying and blessing, the land, the water, the air, the plants, the animals.

I recovered the sacred power of rites, rituals, customs and traditions, all the things which allow me to communicate with the deepest layers of my psyche, 

and with various forms of Divinity.

I recovered the sacred power of communion - communion of body, mind, & spirit.

It sounds unimaginable that Grandmother could teach so much in two weeks, but time is relative, and in ceremony, there’s always plenty of time…

So I’ll touch upon one other interesting aspect of my first ceremonies.

At the beginning of each ceremony I said a quiet prayer - the same prayer every night. 

Teach me how to be the best mother I can be.

I thought my prayer would lead me to insights about motherhood and my children, but instead, 

I was led deep inside myself, to heal myself.

Which brings me back to fear.

When I came home after two weeks in the jungle, I was faced with nothing but fear - only now I didn’t have Grandmother sitting with me.

And this is when I learned the most important aspect of sacred ceremony, of medicine, of ayahuasca, of healing.

It’s called integration.

Integration makes all the difference because my greatest ceremony is not drinking ayahuasca, 

it’s drinking the sacred brew of daily life.

Like I said earlier.

Life is ceremony. 

Every breath is sacred. 

Every moment priceless.

So what I do AFTER ceremony is as sacred as what I do in them.

But integration isn’t easy. 

In fact, when I first tried, I sucked at integration. 

I couldn’t stand feeling all the things Grandmother had taught me to feel, 

I couldn’t stop the suicidal ideations, I couldn’t do anything right.

I failed. Over and over.

Day after day, night after night. 

I tried to integrate what I had been taught but I couldn’t, 

I didn’t know how to be with myself, 

how to feel the emotions inside my body.

I hated every moment of integration. 

I was miserable and despondent for weeks but life kept giving me a new day, 

over and over. 

So I slowly, very slowly, integrated.

I integrated feelings. The ups and downs. Highs and lows. 

I integrated healthy thoughts and stopped ruminating negative ones.

I quit running away and integrated Fear. Sure, I was terrified. But I stayed. 

And not only did I stay, each time fear knocked, I opened the door, I said hello, and I asked Fear what he wanted to teach me.

That was over a decade ago and Fear still knocks on my door, Fear still terrifies me, and Fear still teaches me. 

I don’t know if Fear will ever go away and I’m ok with that because when I’m gripped by Fear, 

 I choose from a place of love.

I want to say this again because it’s a huge part of my healing.

It’s like the Rumi poem I mentioned:

Don’t run from what you fear, 

Run toward what you love.

Today, when Fear knocks, I still feel the frantic impulse to run, to hide, to play it safe… but I don’t. 

Instead, I hold fear. I feel fear.

I breathe. I listen. I ask Fear to teach me. 

Then I choose from a place of love.

No matter how terrified I feel.

And that’s one of the greatest things Fear taught me, 

How to choose Love.

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Love

A few years into my ayahuasca journeys, Grandmother began to show me that what I thought was Love was actually fear.

Isn’t my journey odd?

Ayahuasca brought me to Fear.

Fear brought me to Love.

And Love brought me back to Fear. 

Once I understood that what I knew of Love was actually Fear, 

I was relieved because the love I had experienced in life didn’t feel good.

Now I knew why.

Who wants love to be controlled and manipulated, 

or forced to be someone they aren’t?

Not I. 

Seeing this was freeing, 

but I was also at a loss.

 How could I Love when I’d never been shown healthy Love?

Well, Grandmother Ayahuasca took care of that.

I’d like you to imagine a Love so vast that there is no beginning and no end.

A Love so pure it isn’t conditioned by any action or word, 

A Love so constant it can't be bound by time and space.

This is the Love Grandmother showed me, 

showered onto me.

She loved me for me, as I am, today, 

not some perfected me in a perfected future. 

And this became my barometer for Love. 

I used my experience of Grandmother’s Love to assess my personal relationships. 

When I compared Grandmother’s Love to the love I received from others, I saw how many of my relationships mirrored the love my parents showed me: 

manipulative, controlling, trying to get me to be who they needed me to be.

Their love had nothing to do with me.

And it had nothing to do with Love.

Then I compared Grandmother’s Love to the love I gave others, 

especially my children, 

and the comparison left me sickened.

I too was manipulating and controlling, 

trying to get my children to behave in certain ways, 

to give me what I needed,

to be certain people, 

to live the life I thought was best for them. Ugh.

This was a terrible thing to see.

I felt ashamed and deeply sorrowed.

So I asked Grandmother how I could offer them the same Love she offered me. 

That’s when my relationship with Love began.

It was terrible. I was terrible - I’m not kidding. I was awful awful awful.

Grandmother asked me to Love people who had deeply hurt me.

And to Love people I didn’t like.

And to Love people who didn’t do what I asked.

And to Love people who were no-good in every way.

And even worse?

She asked me to Love myself, through and through.

All those terrible, awful parts I hated. 

“Love those too,” Grandmother would say.

“Love it all, Shelly. Just Love it all.”

So I did. And I do. 

I will always be practicing the art of Love.

It seems the more I grow in Love, the more Love grows.

And that’s a beautiful thing, but it means Love is always challenging me. 

Some days I’m better at loving than others. But I’ve come a long way. 

My relationships with my children are my proof.

We are at home with each other: comfortable, safe, supported, seen, heard, honored.

And there’s no place like home, 

so let’s go there.

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Home

Home. What a journey.

Some twelve years later.

Home.

With myself. As myself.

There’s a gap in these years I’d like to explain because it shows the importance of listening.

A few years ago Grandmother told me, 

“You have much to learn by stepping away from medicine.”

I was scared and sad to hear these words but I trusted Grandmother’s guidance.

And she was right. 

My time away from ceremony helped me integrate Her wisdom more deeply than I imagined possible.

And then, one day, I felt called to return.

 That’s when my homecoming happened.

I’d love to explain my homecoming to you but I pause for two reasons, 

first, I’m not sure I can explain what happened during that ceremony, 

and second, I wonder if it detracts from the simplicity of the word. 

Homecoming.

I sense that inside each of us there a place of longing, 

a longing which can only be filled by our own homecoming.

Homecoming. 

What does this word mean to you?

How does it feel in your body?

For me, it’s being at peace with myself, 

it’s a feeling of deep contentment and joy,

and knowing I’m not alone…. I’m never alone. 

My homecoming ceremony was so powerful that it naturally integrated into my daily life.

Every morning I wake with a deep sense of home inside me.

I am home.

The irony of this is that I’m not actually living in a home. I’m temporarily staying at a friend's place.

Seriously. 

How can I feel at home when my literal home is unsettled and unknown?

I’m not sure.

All I can say is that my homecoming ceremony was so powerful that it overrides the uncertainty of the physical realm.

This is the power of ceremony, of sacredness, of communion, of our universal birthright of Joy.

Do you know the word Lila?

It’s a Sanskrit word which means “the playful goodness of life”. 

Lila is the sacred play of the universe, play for the sake of playing. 

This is how I feel about my homecoming.

That I’m playing. Playing with life. Playing with me. Playing with the mystery.

Playing with the irony that I don’t have a home but I do have a grand and wondrous mansion,

a mansion big enough for all the love I feel for others, 

spacious enough for all the love I receive from others,

grand enough for the spirits of plants, animals, land, water, air, minerals,

expansive enough for my ancestors, spirit guides and advisors to join me in worship.

.

Lila, the playful goodness of life. That’s Grandmother. And she’s been with me all along. 

She watches over me, loves me, holds me, and nudges me to fly when it’s time.

She knows the despair, darkness, pain, grief and trauma I’ve been through 

and healed. 

She knows the fight it took, and the surrender it demanded.

Grandmother. A vine with green leaves and a thick stalk. 

 A presence who guided me through more pain and grief than any human should ever bear.

A playful goodness. A playful Goddess.

Grandmother… How can I ever thank you?

My mansion is your mansion.

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So that’s my journey. 

From darkness and despair,

to homecoming and mansion.

There’s a lot more I could share about ayahuasca but instead I offer a few questions.

Because then you’ll know if your interest is recreational, or ceremonial.

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Am I ready to listen?

Am I ready to integrate?

Am I ready to feel?

Am I ready to come home?

Am I ready to grow beyond my imagination?

Only you know…and you’ll know.

When it’s time.

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My journey with Grandmother Ayahuasca is unlike any other. 

I suspect this is due to the immense trauma in my life, 

plus the immense effort I put into healing.

I am the queen of integration and the king of persistence.

I wrote a poem about me a few years back, 

when things were very tough.

I remember a line that went something like,

It's no matter when hooves stampede over me,

and rock walls thunder all around, 

For my Soul is immovable,

 I simply won’t quit.

That poem, that belief, got me through hell and back, more than once. 

And now that I’m home, 

I feel like I can share in a healthy way because every day is ceremony, 

a sacred chance to live,

 as though my last, 

because today may be my last.

With a heart full with love for Grandmother, and ceremony, and homecoming,

I bid you farewell.

OUTRO

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