An evening with jage

The evening started a little after 7 and the shaman began by singing several songs, accompanying himself with his guitar. Then he used a pipe-like device to blow some sort of snuff up our sinuses, creating an intense burning sensation in the back of our heads. He explained this in Spanish and our facilitator relayed that it would help open our minds to the experience we were about to share. It produced a lot of sneezing and nose blowing and some snarky comments among us.

He further described that our experience would involve three stages: first we would have a vision of snakes, then of tigers, and finally a bird. The five of us were then invited to line up and receive our cups, as he did some chanting in chechua, the indigenous language of the upper Amazon and Andes, going back to the Incas and perhaps before. The shaman came to Nosara in September, declaring, I’m told, that he was called here. He is now adorned in his ceremonial garb, consisting of a headdress of feathers with five large feathers in back, and a cape consisting of rattling dried leaves and seed pods. We sat quietly in the candle lit room, in the hills above Playa Pelada, with plenty of cushions, blankets, and of course our buckets. There were three women and two men, and in less than half an hour my neighbor hit the bucket, so to speak, while I became aware of growing discomfort in my belly. It wasn’t too much longer before we were all hurling into our buckets, and not long after that that I started to become aware of some geometric patterns in my vision. As the nausea become more intense and overwhelming, the visual effects became stronger and I began to see snakes and definitely felt myself in an altered state. According to instructions, I only had a breakfast of fruit, so I was surprised at the volume of material that I was vomiting. I also saw snakes in the bucket, but didn’t feel fear. And I normally hate snakes. At this point the discomfort was extreme, maybe twice as intense as the food poisoning I once experienced from eating some bad oysters at a seafood restaurant years ago. I suffered through this for what seemed like hours while the discomfort gradually diminished and I felt like I was returning to normal. Struggling to get to my feet to visit the bathroom was difficult, and the time was punctuated once or twice by the shaman doing some chanting and playing a mouth harp and shaking his rattles. I fished my phone out of my bag to check the time and was surprised that it was only about 11 pm. At this point, various ironic thoughts were going through my mind, to the effect that I could cross the ayahuasca experience off my bucket list, ‘been there, done that,’ interesting but ultimately no big deal. Snakes in a bucket. The shaman had told us that we could request an additional dose, but there was no way I was going to go through that intense feeling of sickness again for a rather unremarkable psychedelic experience. It was therefore with some incredulity that I saw my male friend approach the shaman for a second dose. His vomiting and trips to the bathroom seemed to have surpassed my own, so I was surprised that he was up for more. But a short time later, I was even more shocked to see one of the women approach the shaman for another cup. I just lay on my side, trying to breath through my experience and grateful that the nausea had abated. At this point, members of the group had approached the shaman and he was chanting, shaking rattles and playing his mouthharp. After this had gone on for some time, our facilitator approached me and said it was time for my own personal healing session with the shaman. The shaman instructed me to sit very close to him, as he put his hand on my head and did a little chanting. We had all been told to come to the ceremony with an intention, and he asked me what mine was. With the help of our facilitator/translator, I said that I wanted to understand god, or dios, or espiritu, better. He indicated he understood, ‘claro.’ He also asked me to describe any visions I had, so I explained that I had seen the snakes but not much else. He did some more chanting over me with his hand on my head, and I didn’t feel anything in particular. Finally, he invited me to drink another cup. In spite of my earlier determination not to do so, I did not resist his invitation, so down the hatch. I returned to my floor cushions, hoping for the best. Again, perhaps 20 minutes or so passed without ill effect, but then it hit me hard and I began violently retching, coming up with even more black sputum for the bucket. From that point, it started to get really interesting, and a bit blurry. My wretching at this point may have been loud enough to be heard through Pelada, although we were fortunately up in the hills with few or no neighbors. Part of this time, I think the most intense period, was spent on the toilet, and I’m really not sure how long I was there while my visions were peaking. What I remember is an intense witnessing of godsource, so overwhelmingly intense that it would have burned me up like a nuclear fire if I had tried or been able to embrace it. I had the feeling that I was not prepared, not ready, to experience god more directly at this time. I also had the feeling that this godsource was within me, not outside me. As I backed off from the nuclear furnace, I had some other visions, although I haven’t been able to remember much. Like a dream, much of it seemed to fade quickly as I returned to more normal consciousness. I do remember seeing some elf-like or gremlin like creatures, or little people, and their purpose or nature was unclear but seemingly a little mischievous and a little unnerving to me. I remember feeling some discomfort, but not outright fear, regarding the surreal environment I was witnessing. As I pulled myself up from the toilet and walked, skeleton-like, back to my cushion, I was still in the throes of vomiting and hallucinations. At this point the shaman stood over me, chanting intensely, spit-spraying smelly potions over my doubled-up body. I had the intense feeling of being reborn, perhaps as a shaman or priest of some sort with a spiritual calling, and not really being sure that I was ready for or wanted that kind of change at this time in my life. The shaman’s chants were such that he sounded like he was announcing my spiritual rebirth to the world, that he was a spiritual midwife to my ascension to a new plain. My memory is not at all clear here but I believe I went through two or three cycles of this, where I would settle down, only to begin violently heaving for another round, and to again have the shaman over me chanting, playing his harp tunes, which took on the semblance of horns heralding the birth of a newly reincarnated holy man. As the effects wore off, I was exhausted and feeling fried, although I did not sleep that night. Others had been going through their own intense experiences, some more verbal but none as loud as mine. They also revived more quickly, with my male friend experiencing great energy. He brought me pieces of pineapple, which he correctly predicted would be the best tasting I ever had. With the light of morning, I had oatmeal and fruit offered by our hostess, and we shared our experiences. I was able to nap most of the morning and went into my store that afternoon. I took my regular shift at the cash register from 4 to 7, and felt normal enough to join a friend and go to a big party/fundraiser that evening. Sixteen hours earlier, when I felt like I nearly died, I never would have expected to recover as fast as I did. Now, three days later, I am struggling somewhat to hold onto the experience. I don’t feel particularly transformed, or reborn. I do feel like I have a better understanding of the nature of god, on an intellectual level, but don’t feel moved to make any particular changes in my life. The purging may have cleaned out my system, and I had a good strong run on the beach yesterday, but I’m not sure if anything remarkable has happened regarding my energy level. I didn’t sleep very well last night and woke up at dawn, but found myself really dragging in the afternoon. While I really didn’t intend to take that second cup, my friends are talking about doing it again in a couple of weeks. In spite of the horrific misery, I think I’ll probably go for it.