The Second Journey: The Undercurrent of Human Suffering
(Continued from last week- from Part 4)
I waited two years before returning to grandmother Ayahuasca.
The setting was very different—a small group led by an intense pagan female leader, a dancer with wild hair and extensive beads and crystal jewelry. This time, twelve of us prepared together with a two-day juice fast, silence, and extensive prayer. We also did a tobacco cleanse, inhaling a liquid tobacco through the nostrils to clear any remaining gunk in the sinuses and prepare for the journey ahead. We were instructed to stay in our own lane, so to speak, to avoid direct eye contact with others during the journey, and keep our eyes averted.
The question I brought to the ceremony was about my husband: I wanted to understand what had happened to him, and to us.
However, I was not particularly receptive to the answer.
I had one cup of medicine—nothing. Two cups—nothing. I resisted so much that the shaman came to me and said, “Christine, you will get nothing unless you surrender and ask for help. Let the medicine get behind your own competence. I suggest you go to the altar, select a deity, and do prostration practice. Let your body speak to your deepest desire to see and to know.” So I went to the altar, stretched myself out in front of Mother Mary in the form of the Virgin of Guadalupe, and after a dozen prostrations, BOOM!
I was dropped into my husband’s body in the middle of his radiation treatments. I felt my skin burn, my throat burn; I felt what it was like to not be able to speak. Mostly, I felt his fear—the fear of death, of dying and not being there for his daughters, of living and not being man enough, of living and never amounting to anything. I felt his life force in my body, his deep will to live, to seduce, to be free, to speak all of his truth, to not pretend. I was filled with deep compassion for him.
When I had thoroughly experienced his suffering and my core questions had been answered, the experience accelerated from the personal to the universal.
One after another, pain bodies from all over the world came into me: a woman who’d lost a child, a man who had to flee with his whole town in the aftermath of the Chernobyl disaster, a starving boy alone. Again and again, they entered and left in a hailstorm of pain. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I screamed out, "ENOUGH!" and it was over. An iron curtain fell over the visions. Then, sacred stillness. Only birdsong from outside and the murmurs of the few people still awake in the room. I curled into a ball, rocked back and forth, consoling myself, crying gently.
Then I had a clairaudient hallucination: the voice that spoke to me said clearly: “This is the pervasive undercurrent of human suffering. The only thing worth doing in this lifetime or any lifetime is to relieve suffering or bring joy. If you’re not doing that, you’re on the wrong track.”
Reduce suffering. Thus, my life was redirected. If it wasn’t related to wellness, consciousness, liberation, love, healing, or celebration, it was no longer a yes. Within three months, I was reoriented. As I realigned to this deeper truth, life began to blossom in deeply unexpected ways.
I became fascinated with Ayahuasca and the profound journeys people undertake with it. There are those who journey 100 times, even 1,000 times, and some who travel to Peru to work through deep foundational traumas, journeying daily for an entire moon cycle. I've spoken with hundreds of individuals who have used these plants for deep self-investigation, exploring how these experiences have transformed them both internally and, according to those close to them, in outward behavior as well. This led me to wonder: What exactly is happening in the brain and body? What occurs in the spirit realm? How do shamans explain it, and how does science understand it? What are the long-term physiological and psychological impacts?
This led me to the works of Terence and Dennis McKenna, pioneers in the study of plant entheogens like Ayahuasca (the vine) and Psilocybin (mushrooms)—substances that offer experiences of divinity. I attended a conference at Synergia Ranch in Santa Fe, which focused on the therapeutic use of psychedelics, particularly for severe PTSD and critically ill patients facing end-of-life anxiety. The results from these studies are staggering; FDA Phase 1 clinical trials have shown outcomes like a 75% complete cure rate for PTSD after just one session of psychedelic-assisted therapy, and up to 98% after two sessions. Institutions like MAPS (Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies) have conducted rigorous research to make these treatments accessible while adhering to legal guidelines in the United States.
Here we are pointed to consider the broader issue of how society and governments regulate what adults choose to ingest. Why are plant medicines so heavily regulated while substances like alcohol, tobacco, and pharmaceuticals—often used to alter the mind-body state unconsciously—receive social acceptance? Whether it's Ayahuasca, Psilocybin, or synthetic compounds like MDMA or LSD, entheogens face legal restrictions and social taboo. This path is heavily guarded, while others are paved with societal approval. For me, there is obviously a right role for these medicines in our collective journey toward healing and understanding.
Recommended Reading
When Plants Dream: Ayahuasca, Amazonian Shamanism and the Global Psychedelic Renaissance, Pinchbeck and Rokhlin
Seeding Consciouness: Tricia Eastman
Relevant Podcast Episodes
Finding Freedom with Sukkhadas:
Veterans, Iboga and Psilocybin with Justin LaPree:
Iboga and Ayahuasca with Tricia Eastman: