Encounters with Power: Adventures and Misadventures on the Shamanic Path of Healing - José Luis Stevens 2017

Journeys for Power with Medicine: Visions with Ayahuasca
Inspiration—Ceremonialist-Healer

Lena, Anna, and I have been traveling to Peru for more than twenty years to study and learn from the Shipibo tribe in the upper Amazon jungle. They are a tribe of about twenty-five thousand people living in small villages on the Ucayali River system. Over the years, we have worked with a variety of shamans and ayahuasqeros there, for better or for worse. An ayahuasqero is a specialist in working with the plant combination known as ayahuasca, and singing the icaros or sacred songs that guide them in ceremony. We started out working with a Frenchman and from him were led to others and eventually to a set of Shipibo teachers.

I first met Pierre Materez in my hometown of Santa Fe, where he had been summoned by the son of an elderly woman who was suffering from leukemia. As a powerful healer and ayahuasqero, Pierre spent several weeks treating this woman with plants collected in the jungles of Peru. According to the most recent reports, her well-being had greatly improved.

A friend invited my wife and me to have dinner with Pierre and some other friends who wanted to meet him. Upon being introduced to Pierre, who was slight of build, with brown hair and kind but intense eyes, I immediately recognized him as a man of integrity, a quiet man of knowledge, someone I could trust and learn from. He was a very dedicated healer with a strong reputation who worked as a shaman with indigenous Peruvians, mestizos, and visitors from other countries.

Over dinner Pierre told us a little about life in the Amazon region of Peru and his work as a curandero (healer). He talked about some of the experiences that had led him to that region to find and develop his botanical gardens. He had been a seeker from a young age, traveling around his native Europe, India, and the United States in his search for knowledge and spiritual truth. He learned much and eventually settled in his adopted country of Peru to grow, study, and catalogue the healing plants of the jungle and the time-honored methods of preparing them for maximum benefits.

For over thirteen years Pierre was apprentice to Benito Masteras, a high-level shaman among the Shipibo and Connibo peoples, and for five years to Miguel and Guillermo Fanela, a father-and-son team, also shamans to indigenous peoples. With them he learned to collect, prepare, and work with many different plant medicines. He learned about the diets that go with ingesting the various plants and learned the icaros that are sung to awaken the plants and activate their healing properties. He also learned the potentially harmful effects of many plants and how to prepare them in a manner that eliminates their toxic effects while preserving their healing potential.

After meeting Pierre in Santa Fe, I had the good fortune to visit him in Pucallpa, a jungle town in Peru’s Amazon River basin, in November 1996 with my family and a group of thirty of our students as we traveled to Machu Picchu and other sacred sites. We participated in healing ceremonies with him outdoors at his botanical gardens, an experience that I can only describe as remarkable and life changing. During these ayahuasca ceremonies, I physically saw the web of life that connects all life forms in the jungle. I could see the origin of the intricate Connibo and Shipibo designs used to decorate objects of art and clothing in this part of the Amazon. I saw how Pierre and his assistants used singing and hand movements to manipulate and repair the fragmented lines forming the web around the patients being healed. As I looked up into the night sky I saw the brilliant illumination of the Peruvian Divine Spirit in the form of Wiracocha smiling benevolently down upon us through the moon-soaked clouds.

During that trip, I recognized that Pierre was held in the highest regard by the local people who came to him for healing. He was gracious and attended to every detail of our stay. I was deeply impressed by the dedication with which he planted his garden, his preparation for ceremony, and his mastery of healing with the plants at his disposal.

I asked Pierre how he came to settle there. He replied that he had been searching throughout the region for the right place to set up a garden and his healing center. He wanted to learn about and preserve the ancient knowledge of plant medicines that is being rapidly lost as Western civilization invades the Amazon. He found an overgrown and neglected garden that already contained many native plant species. He planted many new species and built a center with a cookhouse, a central building with several sleeping bungalows, outhouses, and shower stalls, doing much of this work with his own hands and with the help of local craftsmen. He published a number of books and journal articles in Spanish, focusing on the local flora and its many uses, and he received many guests, including scientists from around the world who were interested in healing plants. One year he was filmed for a segment on plants that aired on Brazilian and Peruvian television.

Over the ten years prior to meeting Pierre, Lena and I had the extraordinary opportunity to lead groups of travelers to sacred power places around the world. After meeting Pierre in Santa Fe, we decided that we must put together a trip to Peru to visit him in the jungle and see the sacred sites at Machu Picchu, Cuzco, Lake Titicaca, and Nazca. Now we were with a group of some thirty travelers including our children, Anna and Carlos, journeying to Peru. Our first destination was Pucallpa, where we would meet with Pierre and participate in ceremonies at his botanical gardens. Our group also included some of our best friends and many people whom Lena and I had known for years. In the group was Ron, a best friend from first grade, tall and laid back, who worked as a wildlife inspector in Los Angeles; Pat, of Irish-Huichol descent, a reserved speech therapist from Marin County whose children had grown up with ours from birth; Joan, a tall, striking psychotherapist friend from San Francisco; Sarah Chambers, the original Michael Teachings channel; and an assorted group of people from every walk of life, including one woman from Iceland. After our trip to the jungle to visit with Pierre, we would be met by nearly ten more people for the remainder of the trip, but this first group was the die-hard crew who wanted to experience the shamanism of the Amazon.

We flew over the mountains to Pucallpa, sailing over the vibrant green and mists rising from the forest canopy of the upper Amazon River basin. Rivers snaked around in huge, lazy curves, their bends almost meeting but kept apart by narrow strips of jungle. As we approached Pucallpa, bright red streaks became roads slashed into the jungle converging on this sprawling jungle town. At the airport we joined Pierre, who was organizing everyone into dilapidated vans and taxis for the short trip to the gardens.

When we arrived he showed us to our sleeping quarters in clean, elevated huts with thatched roofs made of palm fronds. The huts smelled of hardwood and creosote, a necessary anti-rot ingredient in this damp climate. After settling in, we gathered as a group for an early supper and an orientation to the grounds and the next few days’ activities. The next day we would participate in our first ayahuasca ceremony in an outdoor hut specially set up for healing work. The hut had an earthen floor and pillars around the outside holding up the thatched roof. Suspended overhead was an enormous length of ayahuasca vine with rough, brown bark and beautiful spirals in its many sections. We would fast in the afternoon so our stomachs would be empty and prepared for taking the ayahuasca.

I turned in early and awoke in the morning to the songs of hundreds of unfamiliar birds in this garden paradise. I spent the day hanging around the gardens and taking a short trip to town to visit some stores and get acquainted with the area. As evening fell, I felt the anticipation of the powerful ceremony that was about to take place. For many in our group it would be the first time taking ayahuasca, one of the more famous of the visionary plant teachers of the Amazon. I had become familiar with its effects but had never taken it in its home in the jungle. I knew that this would be a special experience.

We waited until about 9 P.M. to begin the ceremony so that the last flight at the nearby airport had left and night had fallen. We took our places around the walls of the ceremonial hut, and I suggested that each person form an intention for what they wanted to accomplish. One by one each participant voiced their hopes and fears and stated their intention for the evening. Although several had decided at the last minute not to participate, both my children were looking forward to their first experience with the sacred plants. I could tell they were nervous, but I was very proud of them for their courage and their willingness to try something new.

The ayahuasca was served up as a tea, and one by one each person drank down the sweet-bitter beverage. I sat back in the darkness of the hut with the others to await the inner visions. After about two hours it was clear to me from the sighs and moans that people were already experiencing the effects of ayahuasca. Yet I was feeling very little except lightheadedness. Pierre came around to ask me how I was doing, and I told him I was fine but feeling very little. He asked me if I wanted to take some more and I said yes. He poured another cup and I drank down the tea with a grimace. Almost before I got back to my pad, the visions suddenly began in earnest.

Before long Pierre came around again to see how I was doing. I could barely sit up in front of him while he began to sing icaros and do his healing work with me. Without warning I had the most intense desire to vomit, fell back to a pit around the wall of the hut, and became violently ill. The purge was difficult but deeply satisfying at the same time. I felt I was getting rid of long-held tension and old emotional baggage that I no longer wanted to carry around with me. Following the purge I lay back and could not move a muscle while brilliant streams of colors and energy coursed through my body. Gradually I became aware of millions of points of light in the formerly dark hut, lighting it up so that I could see everything quite well.

After taking the second dose of ayahuasca, not only did I vomit but I realized the medicine was working on my bowels as well. This presented a problem because the outhouses were some distance from the ceremonial hut. Reaching them required a walk down a muddy path overhung by giant plants and trees and then taking a fork to another, fainter path that eventually led to the pit toilet. To remain seated was not an option for too much longer, but to get up and traverse the paths inebriated on ayahuasca seemed like a monumental task. The inevitable forced me to my feet, and I stumbled out into the dark to find the right path leading to my destination where I could relieve myself. I found that my headlamp was quite useless because its weaving beam was such a distraction that I could not see where I was going.

Normally when ingesting ayahuasca, the process is to follow the visions and inner landscapes with eyes closed, but upon opening them an amazing effect takes place. The ayahuasca reveals the webs of consciousness connecting earth and sky, people and plants, and everything within the external visual field. To walk on ayahuasca is like navigating through many thick veils and curtains of latticework. The effect is quite beautiful but a bit disconcerting. I found that I automatically stretched my arms and hands in front of me to penetrate through the beautiful veils, sort of like going through the wardrobe in The Chronicles of Narnia, only the terrain was jungle, not snow. The plants, dripping with moisture, were vibrating with life, and pools of scattered, shifting moonlight decorated the ground, the clouds allowing the moon to peek out from time to time. Hundreds of fireflies hung in the branches of the tallest trees accompanied by the sound of the steady dripping of the plants into the puddles below. The air felt thick, and the fragrance of flowers perfumed the warm damp breeze. I was truly in another land.

For what seemed like centuries, I staggered on a path that hours earlier had been completely familiar but now passed through an incredibly beautiful alien world. I could not recognize anything but continued down the footpath and then followed a fork. Eventually I made it to one of the outhouses but was confronted with a massive spider the size and shape of a tarantula that squatted directly in the entrance. Realizing that I did not have the courage to challenge the spider in her home territory, I knew I would somehow have to find the other outhouse — and soon — because my need was growing stronger with every passing second.

Back I went, seeking another fork that I thought would lead me to the other one. Abruptly I found myself confronting the outdoor shower stall and managed to grasp that it was not what I wanted. However, I knew that the other pit toilet was nearby and went off in search of it. Finally I spied it in the distance and with a great rush proceeded to it only to find that another enormous spider, a hairy black tarantula, was squatting in the exact same position as the first one. Horrified and confused, I looked to see whether I had simply doubled back and ended up at the same one again. After getting my bearings I understood that this indeed was the other outhouse and that yes, there were two giant spiders. Now I had no choice. I forced myself to approach the spider and it lowered itself in preparation to spring. Mercifully, it sprang toward a shadowy hole under the door of the stall. I rushed across just in time to take care of business. There was no relaxing, however, because in my mind the entire structure was filled with tarantulas. I scanned every nook and cranny of it, all the time realizing that at least one spider was lurking in that hole under the entrance only a couple of feet away.

As soon as I could, I exited that place and began my trek back to the ceremonial hut, but somehow I got off the path and ended up hopelessly lost among the plants of the botanical gardens. After a while I despaired of ever finding my way back. I was totally, helplessly lost even though the gardens were no bigger than an acre. Thankfully, I saw a beam of light and a voice inquired as to where I was. It was one of Pierre’s assistants, whose job it was to bring back lost participants like me. He led me back by the arm, and when I saw the ceremonial hut, a place that it seemed I had not seen in many years, I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

As I lay back down in my spot, I began to have an extraordinary set of visions. I saw a kind of temple in front of me and I felt drawn to go and enter it. As I approached it I saw that it was filled with people who were bathed in the most extraordinary light coming from somewhere above them. I tried to enter the temple but it was so full of people, with their arms reaching above their heads receiving the light, that I could not get in. I had such a compelling desire to experience the light myself that I squeezed in, but I could only get the right side of my body into the temple and the light. The exquisite light, a kind of golden pink bluish color, penetrated my body, and I have never before experienced such bliss, such joy, even though I could not fully enter. It was like manna from heaven, the light of the Christ-force, the mighty I Am presence, and the rainbow light of the Buddhists.

I don’t know how long this went on, but in a way the experience changed my life forever because now I knew what it was like to experience pure essence, with nothing left of my lower personality. There was nothing I wanted more than to remain in this light forever. Yet the vision gradually faded as the medicine wore off, and I felt both elated that I had felt such joy and loss at its leaving. I have never forgotten how this felt and how much I want to feel it again. I have no doubt I will when the time is right. It was a taste — a tempting taste of Spirit just to lure me on the spiritual path — but it was not enough to let me lose my focus on what I have to do here in the world.

It was also of note that it was only my right side, my masculine side, that I could get into the light. Perhaps my feminine side did not need to be healed in the same way. Time will tell, as it always does.

After the effects of the ayahuasca wore off in the early morning, I went out and sat with Carlos under a huge tree filled with the magic of thousands of fireflies, and we marveled at them together. Practically speechless, Carlos managed to mumble, with awe in his voice, “Dad, how do you manage to do this more than once?” With that comment I knew that his first experience with altered states had been awe inspiring and not something he would ever take lightly. We talked for hours, and I felt a new bond with him now that we had a mutual experience of something so powerful. He was now demonstrating an inquiring and insightful mind made sharper by his new experience. His days of just grunting at me were over. Many years later, he still considers it one of his most formative experiences, leading him on to a great many adventures of his own. He calls it a primary inspiration in his work as an animation director and producer.

Later my old friend Ron, the wildlife expert, joined us and waxed philosophical about what he had experienced. We had met in the first grade and now were sitting in the jungle in Peru so many years later sharing our thoughts and feelings. A great feeling of love seemed to envelop all of us as we watched the sky turn pink with the sunrise.

That day I sat talking with Pierre and he explained about jungle diets and how he was building a distant, more isolated compound in the deep jungle for doing such diets in great privacy and seclusion. From the minute he mentioned this, I knew it was something I wanted to do, yet it would be a private experience because I thought not many people would be willing to accompany me on such an adventure. How wrong I turned out to be! It was not too long before I found myself in Peru again for that very experience.

POSTSCRIPT

Sometimes we have to get lost to find ourselves. Even when we are lost, there are certain signs and symbols waiting to teach us something valuable.

Light is a shaman’s best friend. Always look to the light for essence food. Sometimes we need to navigate darkness in order to reach the light of truth. That seems to be part of our process as human beings.

Even part of something good can be great. The desire for perfection and wholeness can sometimes get in the way of appreciating what is in the moment.

Sometimes we need to purge something in order to feel liberated. That purging can take place in many ways: energetically, symbolically, or by vomiting or shitting. Whichever way it comes out, the important thing is that it comes out to make room for more essence, more wisdom, more beauty, more love.

Another lesson learned: a structured and supervised experience with medicine in the right context can be a good one for young people — better than having one on the urban streets.

QUESTIONS

Have you ever had a dream or a vision that was so compelling, so real that it felt life-changing? How did it impact your life? What did it show you about what you needed? Do you allow yourself to have higher-centered experiences on a regular basis? Do you let these experiences transform you or do you write them off as just strange?