The cessation of I and experience of pure timeless awareness as the true reality was what I had been searching for. Yet, for all the miraculous aspects of this clarity and pure enjoyment it brought I felt that I needed more. Thus, one can become attached even to the metaphysical experience of non-duality. This, of course, fits well with Buddha’s second Noble truth – that all suffering arises from attachment, craving, and desire. Yet, as luck would have it, I was invited to another retreat being held outside of Berlin just a few weekends later. So, I would aim for the stars again.
This retreat was also led by B, who was joined by two Spaniards. I arrived for the 3rd evening of the retreat after a short trip to Berlin by air and, after following a rather complicated and somewhat inaccurate set of instructions, reached the retreat house. The accommodations and area near Berlin were not as nice as those of Köln and to my dismay the spectacular sky and sunset were obscured by a long chain-link fence. So many barriers, I realized as I came down a couple of hours later from a short bufo high. My ego wouldn’t let go so easily as it had the first time and, although powerful and enjoyable, the experience wasn’t as amazing as that on the soft grass of the hilly retreat in Köln. Here the grass was parched and stiff, the land flat, and had only a little area of open space surrounded by fencing. Why I couldn’t fully let go, I wondered? I couldn’t fully tell, but being tired after the long trip and residing in the company of mostly strangers on a rather sketchy patch of earth apparently weren’t conducive. That’s one excuse – the other being the pang of guilt I felt for not being with my family for several weeks now and enjoying things that they could not. I felt guilty for having the freedom to come and go as I pleased, plus to experience the new and daring after so many years of dutiful child-rearing. But in reality my guilt is the self-projected pressure of what I think they need or want, rather than what they really need or want. My father’s legacy of being the responsible dad, even if he was unhappy with it, would never have sent him to Berlin to smoke toad toxin and experience nirvana, had that been possible. Yet, on the other hand, I knew that I have to break that paradigm of responsibility without individuality, without joy, if I am to be a truly present and loving father.
As with the previous retreat, I participated in the aya ceremony later that night, although didn’t take a full dose. One of the Spaniards, U, said to take a small dose for the connectivity and would give me a taste of another medicine, called yopo, later on. Yopo is a snuff composed of 5-MeO-DMT of plant origin and the N-N-DMT of aya, and as I cleared the last of it from my nose as I awoke the next morning, I wondered just how much other entheogenic chicanery could I possibly do in the span of an evening – and still not get any real information. Psychedelia, sure – but nausea, infinite. Despite the fact I had no dinner, but for a small feta sandwich on the flight, there was a lot of purging to be accounted for. The anemic sandwich, the microdose of aya, and whatever was left of my digestive system came to the fore and was deposited as dark jetsam in the orange plastic bucket that proved to be a close friend that night. “Yopo will make you vomit”, I was told the next morning.
Seriously?
While purging works for some, it doesn’t speak to me at all. Psychedelia, purge, psychedelia, purge, truly holds no quarter with me – one fifth of the insight of a mushroom trip and five times the nausea. Yet, I will say that the ceremony led by U was quite excellent, filled with lots of wonderful tribal and Spanish music imbued with South American rhythms and singing performed by the facilitators. Despite the rapeh that was shot-gunned up my nostrils, the ibogaine drops laid in my eyes, the noxious aya brew living on borrowed time in my stomach, and all of that topped off with yopo – it was a really beautiful evening! Clearly the facilitators had a very good time – probably much more than the participants that drank, purged, drank, and then purged some more. One student had beforehand asked for “pain” as her intention for that night’s ceremony and, perhaps not surprisingly, her wish seem to be fulfilled. Maybe it is my impression or bias, but this method, while successful for some, is just not conducive for me. Purging, an euphemism for vomiting one’s guts out, and a doozy of a hangover is not enlightenment – even if some psychedelia and release is involved. In fact, nausea kills the beauty of the trip. Of note (and for those interested), the yopo had me surrounded by gyrating interconnected spirals of lights that were associated with semi-transparent vertical wires of different widths. I felt completely immersed, if not enmeshed in them, if you will. But this immediately led to dizzying vertigo, yet more nausea, and a most unsuccessful fight against the need to purge. At that point I began to think this is the end of the line. While the people at the retreat were super friendly and supportive, and the ceremonial aspect musical and fun, I felt that I wouldn’t do this anymore. Psychedelia for psychedelia’s sake is not a path. Aya and its accoutrements are not my path and while 5-MeO leads you to ego dissolution and dissolves the barriers, you are still going to come back to your limited mind-self. Your ego/identity snaps back and you are trapped in your self-created cocoon once again. Nice to be out, but a little cramped on the return.
It turns out that the egoic self is a habitual addiction which, like cigarettes, tastes like shit. But one has to take time to relax, for the integration to begin, and to let go of thought patterns that hold us back. Even though the previous evening had its rough spots, I felt easy the next morning having understood that this is a path that I am journeying. I had to see what this is all about and if my family had been with me I would have spent every moment with them. None of this would be written. There would be no journey…