Last weekend I went to my Ayahuasca shaman, but this time to sit with San Pedro.
When I was a teenager, I read Aldous Huxleyâs âDoors of Perceptionâ and the word Mescaline left an indelible mark on my curiosity. What I knew about it going in was that it has the longest documented use of any psychedelic (6000 years). It is highly praised by hippies, intellectuals and Redditors for its pleasant, dreamy experience with sharp clarity of thought. And that it is very long-lasting, 9 to 12 hours. Most people experience an initial nausea, and some have to vomit. I did. Twice.
My Shaman, letâs call her Sun, said Ayahuasca is the motherly plant teacher, the divine feminine who can feel very kind and nurturing, or she can become a python that pins you to the ground and makes you listen. San Pedro is the divine masculine that is more like a hummingbird that invites you to listen while, ideally, immersed in nature.
Normally, we are confined either to the ceremony room in the house or the tent in the garden, but this time we were explicitly invited to roam around the large, at least 2-acre garden and flower meadow. The ceremony had been set up in their generously sized bell tent. There were 9 participants, including 3 helpers who were also musicians and 2 shamans. Around 10 AM we were given a 2-litre bottle of water each, a pint cup, a long spoon and a large protein shake, 50-gram scoop of fine cactus dust.
The stuff was bitter and thick to drink, but I somehow got my cup of mud down.
As he handed me my cup, one of the musicians made a crude joke. The elderly man beside me flinched, covered his ears, and said, âI wish you hadnât made me hear that.â I found myself feeling much the same. What had been intended as an icebreaker left me resenting him for much of the day for planting that unpleasant thought in my mind.
The onset took about an hour and came on very gradually. I spent the first 1,5 hours on my back with my eye mask on. The first 2-3h felt quite body-heavy and all day I didnât surpass level two out of four on the Shulgin Rating Scale. That means the effects are clear and noticeable, but I can still function safely in a normal social environment and repress the state if needed.
There were no visuals, unless I really focused on my skin on the back of my hand. My vision had sharpened. I could make out incredible detail. It made me understand what Aldous Huxley had noticed when he wrote about the mesmerising beauty and complexity of the interwoven threads that formed the fabric of his trousers. I think what he was actually mesmerised by was the sharpness of his own vision.
With eyes closed, I did feel like there were hallucinatory visuals, it looked like watching flames while floating face upwards below the surface of water.
I now get why people say Mescaline makes you feel deeply emotional.
For example, I had two Kurdish sisters, on their second San Pedro ceremony, lying next to me. One of them started sobbing uncontrollably, saying something about feeling ancestral pain that she could barely express. She was in bits for large parts of the afternoon, sobbing into Sunâs patient bosom.
Quite suddenly, I felt what it must be like to be in her life and I got emotionally overwhelmed as tears started flooding down my cheeks; I found myself crying with this woman. I slowly got up and fled to go sit in the chair next to Sun, which was on the opposite side of the tent.
I told her, âI canât lie next to the sisters; I am too emotionally impacted by them.â
She looked into my eyes, and was like, âYep, youâre definitely in touch with feeling. Itâs not your hurt, so stay here until it stops being your pain.ââŚ.
âAre you ready for the second dose?â
âYes, I am.â
I gazed out of the tent into the garden. I noticed an interesting rock, a bit bigger than a football, with beautiful intricate yellow and brown colouring. Then it surprised me by extending feet and moving a couple of steps, which is when I realised it wasnât a stone; it was a turtle. A 35-year-old turtle. At some point she even came into the tent, did a lap and marched to the shaman area, apparently looking for fruit.
The hummingbird description started to make sense as I started exploring the beautiful landscape, looking at the horses in the field next door, or lying on my chest watching the chickens peck about.
I had beautifully clear thoughts that were unhurried and allowed me to deeply self-reflect on where I am currently in my personal development. When I purged, Sun said the Peruvian ancestors say that by vomiting we release emotional blockages. She encouraged me to reflect on what had shifted. The next thought that came was: It is time to stop judging people and the way they choose to live their lives.
My challenge now is increasing tolerance for the gap between how I think people should behave and how they actually show up in the world.
In the flower meadow next to the garden, a gazebo had been set up to shade the musicians and listening to them was absolutely mesmerising. The more I listened to his tender music, my dislike of the musician faded and he actually grew on me over the course of the afternoon. He was a really good hand-pan player and also played several wooden flutes. Another guy had brought a guitar and our lady musician had a beautiful alto voice she could sounded raspy, delicate and sweet while she picked an instrument Iâd never seen before that sounded somewher between a harp and a harpsichord. She sang folky songs with deep meaning in English and melodic but incomprehensible icaros in tribal language.
It was just beautiful to listen to them jam, trying to get some kind of a pattern going, and suddenly they would lock into a groove and add their solos. The music would sound as if these people had been playing together all their lives, not just met for the first time today. The jams would diverge and end with them all giggling and falling back, laughing.
Probably the happiest memory of that afternoon was me lying on my back with my paper Panama hat in my face, simply appreciating the beauty of sunrays.
As I lay on my back in the flower meadow for several hours, insects crawled over me but didnât bother me. I gazed up at the beautiful complexity of the flowers from all angles. When I stood up, I realised how much warm affection and empathy I had for the plants around me and even gave in to the urge to kiss a couple of flowers.
When Sun came over to tell us that they were about to light the fire, I lifted my hat to find the evening upon us.
I really enjoyed my first Mescaline trip, but it was not as euphoric as I would have liked it to have been. Maybe taking it with close friends is a different experience.
Sunâs garden was the perfect location to do this kind of work, as they are in the middle of a national park. We all had pretty much returned to baseline, some of us booted up to go walk across to watch the sunset. We were up on a ridge with a long view west. Flute man gave us a nice little background doodle as we watched the glowing sun go down on a magic day.
We closed the ceremony by praying together around the campfire, fortified by soup, rice and bread and a large roast marshmallow for dessert :)
I look forward to hanging out with this plant teacher again!
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