Ayahuasca and I: Not your typical trip report – Part 3/4 – By James W. Jesso
On the first night, the Ayahuasca took about an hour to take full effect. On the second night, it was no more than 20 minutes before I felt the full effect. It came on so quick and so full that it was as though I had smoked a breakthrough dose of pure DMT. My body was electric and there was little to no point of differentiation between it and the outside world. There was just a steady dissolution of my identifiable presence in normal reality, unfolding in conjunction with an increase of what I can best describe as the psychic downloading of highly complex digital information. I had to move my body to know I had a body, otherwise I was merely a droplet in a sea of electricity; the drop that contains the ocean. I wonder if this is what dying feels like. If so, it’s quite pleasant in all its terror.
With the body load came potent visuals, unlike anything I have ever seen. My ability to visually render the change in my biochemistry was far beyond any level of complexity I had bore witness too previously. It was like an iron curtain of multicolor death draped across my awareness. It was so intense that I felt like I couldn’t take it, I was only like 30mins into a four to five hour experience. I dealt with the intensity pretty well, until I heard a gentle whisper from inside myself saying, “something is wrong”.
I engaged that whisper instead of ignoring it; I saw that indeed something about this experience felt very wrong. It wasn’t like before, it didn’t feel like the Ayahuasca I had been bolstering in my mind. It felt like distraction. I almost immediately associated this experience to the rhetoric of being attacked by evil entities that would not leave no matter how hard I tried. I began to associate these perceptions to the Curandero as the propagator of the context, believing that he was testing me in some way. An entire constellation of projection began to form, in the shape of the wardrobe I was wearing. I was being attacked by evil entities, the shaman (did you keep that other point in mind?) was doing this to test my strength and I needed to prove myself by connecting with Mother Ayahuasca to help me battle these demons.
At first I sat up and vocally asked for help, but they didn’t hear me. Again, this must be the Shaman’s doing, so I went about solving this issue on my own to prove myself to him. I was going to exorcise these demons and connect with Aya. Again, hindsight = I was full of shit, but at the time it was real, so I began to fight. Attempting to force a purge, channel love, not surrender to these demons, etc. all resulted in their presence becoming stronger. They would disappear and reappear as something else. Almost as though my entire attempt to fight them would be hijacked and redirected to empower them.
That’s when I realized I wasn’t fighting demons in a spirit world, needing the support of the magical shaman to call upon Mother Ayahuasca to save me. I was battling the Ayahuasca. All the good and evil, demons and angels, the deities and enemies, the struggle, they were all Ayahuasca and only existed through our participation in the cosmology. None of it was imperially real, Ayahuasca was not a blessed saviour. (here comes some really epic projection) Ayahuasca was a parasitic plant consciousness embedding itself into the psyche of people to spread its presence in the world like seeds hooking onto the hooves of transient animals. Ayahuasca and all that came with it, was no more than a religious cult surrounding the worship of a parasitic plant consciousness that was feeding off the energy of pain and pleasure. The struggle of good vs. evil it was creating out of the accessible manifestations of symbolism and trauma present within the participant was the stage for this show. I was being harvested and I couldn’t trust anyone in this moment because they were all mesmerized by the smoke and mirrors of this evil parasite.
The veil in the wardrobe was too thick to see my reason and, in turn, I could only see the enantiodromia of my previous blind faith in Ayahuasca manifesting as the devil: the archetype of the fallen angel shining false light to fool us from God.
In that moment, I was all alone and fucked on some crazy psychedelic parasite.
“What are these songs they are singing?
What are they implanting into my mind?
GET OUT JAMES! GET OUT NOW!”
The exciting conclusion is coming soon, or buy a hard copy in zine form from James here.