Thursday, May 13, 2004
India and the Ayuhauscadero, Part Three
My first inclination of India's influence was in what I brought with me for my ayhuasca journey. I have been a practitioner of native traditions for over twenty-five years. I carry a medicine pipe, run sweat lodges, engage in four-day fasts once a year and study shamanic traditions with native elders. It is my spiritual base. However, when called to bring sacred, personal items to place on the altar and use for our journeywork, I left my medicine bag, pipe and feathers at home. Instead, I carried a crystal Ganesh, and a silver medallion and Goddess card from Sri Lalitambika ashram. I also brought vributti (sacred ash). All this was most unusual for me, and a portent of things to come.
India blew me away, opened me up and shifted my worldview. It seemed the unfamiliar in everything I was experiencing put me into an immediate altered space. The daily devotion of hundred's of millions of people, the confluence of grand and profane, the impact of daily personal prayer, silence and meditation and sickness all helped to open me up. I was moved by our bus driver who touched his deities before driving, the deaf man at the Ganesha temple whose eyes went skyward when given some money, and the people of Thannirpalli who showed me their temple deities as if they were introducing us to friends at a cocktail party. It was the immediate and accessible nature of it all. God, prayer and our connection to the divine was something all could partake of in a very personal manner. Like Christians who ask, "Do you have a personal relationship with Christ?" India seemed to have a long history of billions pointing their finger inwards when asked the question, "Where is God?" Witnessing and experiencing this devotional process put me into a highly receptive place. This receptivity allowed me to sit longer, move more slowly, and listen with greater attention and less attachment. In essence, India put me in touch with the Goddess and her power and wisdom in all things.
As a consequence, this became my intention for my ayhuasca journey. I wanted to see the divine more deeply in my life, and especially my marriage. Jane and I have a wonderful relationship, but I am continually yearning for greater ways to connect. This was a direct result of the most significant moment of my entire trip to India--a dream. The last day at Shantivaanam, the ashram that Bede Griffiths started many years ago in Southern India, during our meditation session in the hall, I fell asleep (big surprise). In my dream, I was standing in front of Bede in his hut, and I asked him, "How do I deepen my marriage?"
"It's easy," he said. "Just love your wife with all your heart."
This question of what does it mean to love my wife "with all my heart" seemed to be the fundamental intention of my ayhuasca journeywork. I was not disappointed.
The Inuit say, "In the beginning is everything." If this is true, then I was in for quite a ride. The ayhuascadero (a term used for a teacher/user of ayhuasca), warned me that because of the high amounts of Cipro antibiotic and Malarone malaria medication in my system, and because I was still at the tail end of a sickness, I could be in for "a rough ride." Though advised this specific medicine was "sweet", its tendency to cleanse could lead to a "deep scrubbing." Or, I could feel nothing. Or, who knows what else. Thus it was with no small amount of trepidation that I ingested my dose. Within ten minutes, I started to feel the effects (the usual response time is an hour). Within fifteen minutes, I was having full-blown hallucinations. And within twenty I was running for the bathroom for an explosion of diarrhea. When I stumbled back to my seat, I was overwhelmed with fear. I was having trouble remembering how to breathe! Our ayhuascadero advised that when the on-set of the medicine came, we would learn about how we deal with change and death. Great. I was going to learn by doing. I was terrified. Taken outside by my wife, Jane (who had elected not to partake for health reasons), and helped to breathe, I immediately started a one-hour violent vomiting process. "Deep scrubbing" was right. I was going at my insides with a Brillo pad. Fortunately, my vomiting took my attention from my breathing fears, and I actually relaxed into the experience.
When I returned to the room, I was in an amazingly heightened state of awareness. I could feel and see everything. If the ayhuascadero came near me, I would immediately start to vomit again (this became a point of great amusement). I could sense in profound ways the energy in the room, and actually had to sit on the stairs to avoid its intensity. When others took an additional dose, I felt what they felt, and saw what they saw. Even the question, "Do you want a booster?" to another participant, sent me rocketing off again. The thought of someone getting more was enough to move me to another level.
The only thing that kept me remotely grounded was looking at my wife. She looked like a goddess, and her image calmed and centered me. She was my lifeline and I kept my eyes and prayers focused on her. The longer I looked at her, the more beautiful she became. Jane became, in front of my eyes, the incarnation of the Divine Feminine, and my heart opened more and more. Suddenly, it became incredibly obvious. It's not how much love I can receive--it's how much love I can give. And in that moment, I resolved to love my wife with all my heart--no matter what. No matter what she says or does, no matter how I am feeling--"no matter what" means without condition. It's one thing to say, for this notion is as old as relationships, but this time I felt it in a way and manner that was new. Bede was right. It was the secret to deepening my marriage.
As a result I began to pour love from my heart, to envision it continually opening, sending bright light to my wife. I was in bliss. I was experiencing full-hearted love as I watched Jane across the room, I could see a dancing Ganesha between us, removing obstacles from my marriage. My joy was barely containable. I took my silver medallion from the Sri Lalitambika ashram and placed it on my third eye. It was brilliant silver and glowed with energy. I prayed for it to remove any and all impediments to my loving--to help me choose love over fear.
What followed was my second big insight of the day. I saw that what kept me from a deeper loving nature was my fear of death. This immediately took me back to India, and the intense preparation that is done to ready oneself for life's ending. Ram Das once said, "I wish you a good death. For your death will be the single most important event of your life." I was clear on one thing. I was not ready to die. I was still scared of death, still terrified of heights, still fearful of suffocating. Open-heart surgery and its near-death experience had helped move me forward, but Ganesha knew there was work to be done.
Of all the images of death that to this day haunts me the most, it is of the people stuck in the World Trade Center Towers on 9/11. Choosing to jump, rather than suffocate and burn, they held hands and leapt together as their final action. This image is the one that always gets me. So, in my heightened state of consciousness, I saw myself on top of a burning World Trade Center, choosing to leap to my death. I was terrified. Doing ayhuasca, made every sensation almost real. I could envision myself falling until impact and the...nothing. Once completed, I immediately did it again, and again, and again. I lived out my death-jump over twenty times. Then I envisioned myself holding Jane and jumping with her--over and over--holding her with every leap. And each time the fear and pain got less, till all I could feel was peace and love in the arms of my wife. I suddenly truly understood that I probably will never be able to choose the time or manner of my death, but I can choose how I die: still and holding the image of my beloved wife in my heart
.
I then imagined myself walking down an alley about to be shot by a mugger, but instead of fear I was peaceful and calm. Then I saw myself in a car about to be hit by a truck, but felt nothing but love for Jane. I kept playing out scenario after scenario, until I was done. It was, to say the least, profound. I ended my medicine journey in prayer and gratitude.
Full Circle
The following morning, I awoke on India time, i.e. 4:00 a.m., and went outside to sit in a hot tub by a flowing stream. The setting was gorgeous, and in the moonlit sky, I sang and prayed every devotional song I could remember from India. And then I sang every devotional song I could remember from my past. I wanted Jewish songs, and Christian songs, and Hindu songs, and Muslim songs. I sang to the Goddess, and to the Creator, using words from Native American peoples and Sufi traditions. I sang for over two hours, occasionally standing to face the rising sun, and bowing in deep reverence. It was the closest I have ever felt to that day over thirty years ago in Jerusalem. I came to relearn what I first discovered at the Wailing Wall. It is the same lesson that Hinduism reminded me of time and time again. It is simple but it is everything--all paths lead to God. Bede gave me this in India, as well as one more essential lesson. The most direct of all choices one can make is love.
For that, and for so much more, I will always be indebted to Mother India.
India blew me away, opened me up and shifted my worldview. It seemed the unfamiliar in everything I was experiencing put me into an immediate altered space. The daily devotion of hundred's of millions of people, the confluence of grand and profane, the impact of daily personal prayer, silence and meditation and sickness all helped to open me up. I was moved by our bus driver who touched his deities before driving, the deaf man at the Ganesha temple whose eyes went skyward when given some money, and the people of Thannirpalli who showed me their temple deities as if they were introducing us to friends at a cocktail party. It was the immediate and accessible nature of it all. God, prayer and our connection to the divine was something all could partake of in a very personal manner. Like Christians who ask, "Do you have a personal relationship with Christ?" India seemed to have a long history of billions pointing their finger inwards when asked the question, "Where is God?" Witnessing and experiencing this devotional process put me into a highly receptive place. This receptivity allowed me to sit longer, move more slowly, and listen with greater attention and less attachment. In essence, India put me in touch with the Goddess and her power and wisdom in all things.
As a consequence, this became my intention for my ayhuasca journey. I wanted to see the divine more deeply in my life, and especially my marriage. Jane and I have a wonderful relationship, but I am continually yearning for greater ways to connect. This was a direct result of the most significant moment of my entire trip to India--a dream. The last day at Shantivaanam, the ashram that Bede Griffiths started many years ago in Southern India, during our meditation session in the hall, I fell asleep (big surprise). In my dream, I was standing in front of Bede in his hut, and I asked him, "How do I deepen my marriage?"
"It's easy," he said. "Just love your wife with all your heart."
This question of what does it mean to love my wife "with all my heart" seemed to be the fundamental intention of my ayhuasca journeywork. I was not disappointed.
The Inuit say, "In the beginning is everything." If this is true, then I was in for quite a ride. The ayhuascadero (a term used for a teacher/user of ayhuasca), warned me that because of the high amounts of Cipro antibiotic and Malarone malaria medication in my system, and because I was still at the tail end of a sickness, I could be in for "a rough ride." Though advised this specific medicine was "sweet", its tendency to cleanse could lead to a "deep scrubbing." Or, I could feel nothing. Or, who knows what else. Thus it was with no small amount of trepidation that I ingested my dose. Within ten minutes, I started to feel the effects (the usual response time is an hour). Within fifteen minutes, I was having full-blown hallucinations. And within twenty I was running for the bathroom for an explosion of diarrhea. When I stumbled back to my seat, I was overwhelmed with fear. I was having trouble remembering how to breathe! Our ayhuascadero advised that when the on-set of the medicine came, we would learn about how we deal with change and death. Great. I was going to learn by doing. I was terrified. Taken outside by my wife, Jane (who had elected not to partake for health reasons), and helped to breathe, I immediately started a one-hour violent vomiting process. "Deep scrubbing" was right. I was going at my insides with a Brillo pad. Fortunately, my vomiting took my attention from my breathing fears, and I actually relaxed into the experience.
When I returned to the room, I was in an amazingly heightened state of awareness. I could feel and see everything. If the ayhuascadero came near me, I would immediately start to vomit again (this became a point of great amusement). I could sense in profound ways the energy in the room, and actually had to sit on the stairs to avoid its intensity. When others took an additional dose, I felt what they felt, and saw what they saw. Even the question, "Do you want a booster?" to another participant, sent me rocketing off again. The thought of someone getting more was enough to move me to another level.
The only thing that kept me remotely grounded was looking at my wife. She looked like a goddess, and her image calmed and centered me. She was my lifeline and I kept my eyes and prayers focused on her. The longer I looked at her, the more beautiful she became. Jane became, in front of my eyes, the incarnation of the Divine Feminine, and my heart opened more and more. Suddenly, it became incredibly obvious. It's not how much love I can receive--it's how much love I can give. And in that moment, I resolved to love my wife with all my heart--no matter what. No matter what she says or does, no matter how I am feeling--"no matter what" means without condition. It's one thing to say, for this notion is as old as relationships, but this time I felt it in a way and manner that was new. Bede was right. It was the secret to deepening my marriage.
As a result I began to pour love from my heart, to envision it continually opening, sending bright light to my wife. I was in bliss. I was experiencing full-hearted love as I watched Jane across the room, I could see a dancing Ganesha between us, removing obstacles from my marriage. My joy was barely containable. I took my silver medallion from the Sri Lalitambika ashram and placed it on my third eye. It was brilliant silver and glowed with energy. I prayed for it to remove any and all impediments to my loving--to help me choose love over fear.
What followed was my second big insight of the day. I saw that what kept me from a deeper loving nature was my fear of death. This immediately took me back to India, and the intense preparation that is done to ready oneself for life's ending. Ram Das once said, "I wish you a good death. For your death will be the single most important event of your life." I was clear on one thing. I was not ready to die. I was still scared of death, still terrified of heights, still fearful of suffocating. Open-heart surgery and its near-death experience had helped move me forward, but Ganesha knew there was work to be done.
Of all the images of death that to this day haunts me the most, it is of the people stuck in the World Trade Center Towers on 9/11. Choosing to jump, rather than suffocate and burn, they held hands and leapt together as their final action. This image is the one that always gets me. So, in my heightened state of consciousness, I saw myself on top of a burning World Trade Center, choosing to leap to my death. I was terrified. Doing ayhuasca, made every sensation almost real. I could envision myself falling until impact and the...nothing. Once completed, I immediately did it again, and again, and again. I lived out my death-jump over twenty times. Then I envisioned myself holding Jane and jumping with her--over and over--holding her with every leap. And each time the fear and pain got less, till all I could feel was peace and love in the arms of my wife. I suddenly truly understood that I probably will never be able to choose the time or manner of my death, but I can choose how I die: still and holding the image of my beloved wife in my heart
.
I then imagined myself walking down an alley about to be shot by a mugger, but instead of fear I was peaceful and calm. Then I saw myself in a car about to be hit by a truck, but felt nothing but love for Jane. I kept playing out scenario after scenario, until I was done. It was, to say the least, profound. I ended my medicine journey in prayer and gratitude.
Full Circle
The following morning, I awoke on India time, i.e. 4:00 a.m., and went outside to sit in a hot tub by a flowing stream. The setting was gorgeous, and in the moonlit sky, I sang and prayed every devotional song I could remember from India. And then I sang every devotional song I could remember from my past. I wanted Jewish songs, and Christian songs, and Hindu songs, and Muslim songs. I sang to the Goddess, and to the Creator, using words from Native American peoples and Sufi traditions. I sang for over two hours, occasionally standing to face the rising sun, and bowing in deep reverence. It was the closest I have ever felt to that day over thirty years ago in Jerusalem. I came to relearn what I first discovered at the Wailing Wall. It is the same lesson that Hinduism reminded me of time and time again. It is simple but it is everything--all paths lead to God. Bede gave me this in India, as well as one more essential lesson. The most direct of all choices one can make is love.
For that, and for so much more, I will always be indebted to Mother India.
