The following is an except from my upcoming book, Loveseed: The Template For Birthing A New World:
In 2004, after experiencing a loss that opened a door to all the ungrieved sorrows of my life, I received a call from my soul to live in Cusco, Peru. I knew no one there, and had no idea why I needed to go, but I responded to that call with a resounding YES by closing my practice, selling my house, giving my cat to friends, and embarking on a great adventure for a full year.
A friend who had visited Peru told me of a shaman named Alonso del Rio who lived 90 minutes away, near the town of Pisac. After living in Cusco for two weeks, I set off to find Alonso in the hope of participating in an ayahuasca ceremony. Ayahuasca, also commonly called yagé,is a brew made out of Banisteriopsis caapi vine, often in combination with various other plants. The brew is used as a traditional spiritual medicine in ceremonies among the indigenous people of the Amazon, and is known for its divinatory and healing powers.
I took the 45–minute ride on a public bus over the mountain to Pisac, the only gringa on board. Amidst the llamas and kiwichi and the full spectrum of life in Peru, I was joyful. I had set myself up to live a wide-open life.
When I arrived in Pisac I hired a taxi to Alonso’s place. The extent of my directions were to head toward Taray, turn left onto the narrow bridge, continue straight until you get to a road, walk over the hill, and look for the thatched roof on the right. There will be a German Shepherd dog out front.
Did I say “narrow” bridge? Let me tell you, there is nothing like driving over a hanging bridge in Peru. I have come to love it, and that day, I was breathing deeply for many reasons. I was to meet Alonso, the ayahuascero, of whom I had heard good things. Mind you, I was not sure what I was looking for, but I was following the energy of the loveseed in my heart.
The taxi driver came to a stop and said that it was the end of the road, pointing to the grassy knoll rising up to an unknown destination. His fingers walked, indicating to me my next mode of transportation. I had only been in Peru for two weeks, so this was new to me—being dropped in the woods with no one around. I had no idea if I was being brave or totally reckless, but I chose to remain utterly hopeful. I decided that I was fully protected. Sure, I was afraid. I held to the belief that my soul was guiding me and kept breathing.
Taxi gone. No one around. Water trickling over rocks, green and lush. Quiet. I stopped, heart pounding. Ahhhhh. I could feel the loveseed inside. All is well. Breathe. Look up, look around. The water is friendly, the rocks are friendly, the trees are friendly. They are not lost. The air is friendly. You are home here. Onward. Over the hill.
I continued to walk. Over the next rise, the top of the thatched roof appeared. The dog appeared, and children, and a beautiful blond woman and a slightly built man with the kindest demeanor. This was Alonso’s home, with his German-born wife and four handsome children. The man lived in Paradise.
He asked me why I came, why I wanted to drink ayahuasca. I said I have always sought truth and the best way I can serve, and I want guidance that will support me in that quest. We communicated somehow, in spite of the language barrier, forming an understanding that he would guide me, that it would be two evenings, and I would stay here with them, fast the day of the ceremony with a day in between where I am free to do whatever I like. I agreed to do that and told him I would be coming with a friend. We shook hands and that was that. Date and time set.
Within a few weeks, my friend Heather and I were driving over that narrow bridge, this time to spend several days at Alonso’s compound—with dogs, children, llamas, and other visitors who would be participating in the ayahuasca ceremonies at night, in the temple. We spent the first day fasting, preparing for the evening to come.
As open as I had felt, nothing much happened for me that first evening. When I met with Alonso the next day, he asked me what I experienced. “No mucho,” I said. His response was, “Mas confianza.” More trust. He looked at me with deep pool blue eyes. I took him in.
More trust? I had the entire day and the next day fasting to reflect on what it meant to have more trust. I let go of thinking and asked my body. I went for a hike, ate apple strudel at the German restaurant in Pisac, and lay by the river on a blanket for hours, relishing in the experience of being held by Pachamama (Quechua for Mother Earth). I felt nestled in paradise and thought maybe this feeling had to do with more trust. I felt held here by this river deep in the woods of a little village in Peru. I felt at home. Mas confianza.
When the second ceremony finally arrived, I was as trusting as I knew to be. I felt my own sincerity to know the truth of my own being through this plant. Alonso gave me two drinks that night, and he could see that I was ready. I was.
My main motivation in sharing this with you is to open doors within you that will allow you to know Love personally, as I do. It is in knowing Love as I know her now that inspired me to take a vow. I ask that you suspend needing to understand with your mind, and listen with your heart, as I tell you the rest of this story.
After the second dark drink of jungle roots and herbs, taken in ceremony by candlelight, I settled into my sleeping bag on the dirt floor next to Heather. It was freezing outside and a full moon over the mountain rose nearly straight up just 200 feet away from us. I was cozy in my bag, watching the candlelight dance, as Alonso began to sing the songs about love and the road of stars. I felt held, happy, open, and I declared my total trust. I heard the lullaby.
I quickly moved past the dazzling visions and geometric display. What began as a gentle feeling of joy transformed into an encounter with an energy, a force, what I came to know as a being, feminine in nature—so strong, benign, protective, breathtakingly beautiful—I simply do not have words to describe her. She called herself Love.
I was taken up by her. The ecstasy I felt as she filled my consciousness was so overwhelming that the last thing I recall saying, “I had no idea there was this much looooooooove.” And then I was gone. I surrendered to her power and we disappeared into one another. I have no idea how long I was with Her. I do not have conscious memory beyond a certain point, until I began to return from wherever I went. At that point, I encountered what appeared to be dark forces. I puffed out my chest, which was filled with Love, and telepathically declared, “You are not real. Only Love is real.” I have never felt so grounded and powerful in all my life. I was not afraid. Immediately the dark forces dispersed.
I recall coming back into my body and feeling my arms and hands and smiling like a cat that had just caught a big canary. I was overtaken with joy and began to laugh, and others began to as well. Alonso lit a candle and we all began to dance. It seems the “journey” part of the night was over, and I had been with Love for four to five hours.
As much as I had felt the power of filial love, love for my parents, my family members, my partner, my children, my friends, my clients, and the world, this direct encounter with Love herself removed all doubt that Love is the power I would consciously live my life by. She was sexy and nurturing, powerful and tender. I would not realize all that such a vow entailed until many years later, when I had to face the parts of me that had hidden from Her, and yet that were changed forever.
I had surrendered so fully and had been an “open door” as in the Leonard Cohen song, “Love Itself,” which I played over and over while in Peru:
Then I came back from where I’d been
My room, it looked the same—
But there was nothing left between
The Nameless and the Name.
I’ll try to say a little more:
Love went on and on
Until it reached an open door—
Then Love itself,
Love Itself was gone.
Love Itself was gone
