Meeting the Aya Spirit – He/She Speaks

Why was I coming back? What was I looking for?  What else did I want to gain from drinking more Aya? I could not answer these questions with clarity but I had gone back to the jungle only a month after my 1st visit. I just knew I had to come back.Making it there was a matter of fighting fear and my own inner “flight mode” mechanisms. The idea of drinking a different vine brew, with “Black Ayahuasca” had made me edgy ever since I was made aware of its existence.  Furthermore, in this short break, I had been able to investigate (read google) other people’s  experiences and opinions. The prospects were terrifying as all the info I gathered would tell me to run away from it… The general consensus refered to this vine surrounded mostly its particular strenght and potency, others would argue it was a brew only to be drank by shamans in the best case, sorcerers (the kind to be related to negative energies) in the worse case. There were affirmations on the likes of: “this vine will show you your darkness” and “this vine will show you how you will die” If I had hoped for the research to provide reasons to support my new visit I was not going to find such….

The actual experience proved to be quite different from what I had read, and I learned soon Aya cannot be experienced through others… Firstly, I had almost no effects: visuals, electricity lightening, buzzing in ears, dizziness and nausea, were remarkably little if at all present. I had gone back to my room and it was about 3 am on the 1st drinking night, I was concerned and pondering why would I have such little to no effects when I heard a voice, a male voice: “Well, this is no time to spend energy, you are still recovering from brain surgery in our last encounter”  Brain surgery? wait … WTF is that voice…?!?!   I have to be making this up .. I must be making this up, am I? I asked; give me a proof, a proof that will show me I’m not making this up in my head.  The same male voice then responded: “Do you want me to come out and play?”   Remarkably, I did not feel fearful, still I answered cautiously, what you mean by play?…. I was immediately hit by a huge urge to vomit… I resisted it, and once I gained composure back I inquired: Is this your idea of a game? The same male voice answered: “This game is called: Purge and Cure. You purge, I cure”  followed by a sounded, sarcastic laughter… I was laughing along; I knew I was given the conclusive proof I requested. I knew myself well enough I would have never come up with such a witty, sarcastic type of joke…. I dint feel any more urges to purge after the joke… This voice would accompany me in most of my ceremonies from this day on…

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