Ayahuasca

Ayahuasca is a spirit native to the jungles of South America. For thousands of years it has accompanied humankind on its journey through its own inner darkness. Like a mother, it has taught us priceless wisdom that has helped us survive to this day. We can see it as a mighty feathered serpent, risen from earth and water, soaring through the air and roaring fire.

Restricted and isolated in a few privileged places since the European conquests, kept mostly by elitist shamans who sought to pass it on pure, in these times it has gathered momentum and begun to spread into more and more hearts.

The spirit that invaded it 500 years ago had a personality bound to metal, cement, plastic and comfort. Another very ancient serpent, one that fed on whole civilizations, cutting them off from their mother earth and destroying jungles and forests. It arrived in America relentless, building cold cities for confused human beings. Civilization, development and technology were its bait. A dark current that soaks everything in superiority, competition and fear.

And so we came, into a world bathed in forces that sting, subtly and imperceptibly, to the point of despair. As a result we learn an identity that separates our pure perception of reality from our experiences themselves. We do not see, for the cloud that drags across our emotions tells us stories that convince us of madness and nonsense. And so we live, in darkness.

And this night stings. This sleep torments. Life rushes on, wringing out whoever lets themselves be carried away. This drunkenness weighs heavy. And the weight that presses down is mistaken for an urgency to make a personal name count, to leave an indelible mark on existence, to ambitiously build the absurd tower of Babel. We have no reason to be unhappy. And yet, what is drowning us?

And when we look, surprise leaps out: The burning that reigns beneath the hell we sink into, persuaded by the tongue of the silver serpent, is the very energy of the feathered serpent coming to rescue us. The two serpents intertwine as if fighting, yet at the same time completing each other. The supposed battle between civilization and nature was nothing but a dance between existences so different and yet so alike.

What hurts us is what drives us. What weighs on us is what forces us to set ourselves free. What we suffer is the wings that teach us to fly. Everything that makes our mistakes visible is a gift.

We understand, then, why ayahuasca squeezes from within our darkness, warning us to switch on a light that is ours by nature. We understand the jolt we feel in our lives, cornered between two opposing forces. We also understand why a simple tea is so magnificent that it turns our lives completely around.

The power of the jungle is already putting down roots in many hearts. The healing of our wounds, caused by our self-worshipping identity, feels like a renewing caress that tempers our character. Seeds of joy are being placed strategically, shaking the sleepers and prodding the half-awake. In the middle of the storm, peace is seeping in. It is up to us to bloom, so we can celebrate that spring has come at last, so we can bless the dawn.

Soon we will see that, despite any destructive movement that seems to isolate human beings, despite metal, cement, plastic and comfort, despite this asphalt that kills trees, this place where we stand is still jungle, and the power of the jungle owns everything. The jungle keeps growing here, unseen. The coldness of the city has not been able to smother the brightness of the feathered serpent that now fills our souls. Nothing absurd holds dominion, for we are still in the Mother's womb. Here we drink her nectar and vibrate with her love.

And here we go on, then, walking.