Yage – an eerie journey into the depths of my mind

Before I delve into the psychedelic world of yage, I should begin with some sort of disclaimer. Firstly, I do not, by any means, condone the use of mind-altering drugs by anyone. Thankfully, yage is seen by indigenous Colombians as a medicine. Secondly, this is not a journey that should be taken lightly or flippantly. Centuries of tradition and ancient customs must be respected and admired before embarking on this trip. For fear of sounding like a preacher, it takes dedication, a sense of spiritualism and open-mindedness and the right environment.

Now, let me try to explain to you what I can only describe as the most intense and surreal experience of my entire life. I use the word ‘try’ as every time I attempt to explain what happened to me I end up sounding like a disgusting hippy.

We arrived at a site just outside La Mesa, a couple of hours from Bogota, in the morning. The sun was blazing and several tired-looking people were wandering around in a daze, what seemed like a slightly drunken stupor, the remnants of the previous night’s dose. As we entered the maloka (essentially just a hut) it all began to sink in. Bodies were strewn around the place, conversations seemed dulled and extremely slow and the stifling heat was exacerbated by the ceremonial fire that had been lit.

The shaman started to prepare the drink, a thick blackish-brown concoction, whilst chanting and waving what appeared to be a sacred leaf over the mixture. As he passed it to me I found myself trembling with fear, unsure of what was awaiting me. I left the maloka and lay down on the grass outside in order to wait.

I waited. And I waited. But nothing. Zilch. Nada. Bugger-all. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. I felt royally ripped-off. A week of fasting and living the straight-edge life all for nothing. After about two hours I threw up. Hard. It seemed that everything that I had been consuming over the last few months was coming out in one fell swoop, cleaning my body yet somehow leaving me unsatisfied and annoyed.

The shaman offered me another go, which I initially declined. Why would I want to spend another three hours feeling woozy, hungry and then ultimately just vom everywhere? Eventually I was convinced to down another cup of the foul-tasting stuff, something akin to a thick sludgy shot of earth. Almost immediately it seemed all to come out of me so I went to calm myself on a hammock.

And then, BAM! I am immersed in an incredible sea of pure, inexplicable love. For everything. And everyone. The hammock feels divine, almost orgasmic, the tree stump is like nothing I have ever touched before. Even the wind gently blowing through my fingertips sends immense shivers throughout my entire body and even outside my body. My fingers touch and I feel electricity.

I feel a deep connection to the world and everything in it. I can see it moving, I can feel everything that is happening anywhere.

I can see my thoughts. I can even touch them. I am speaking to people who aren’t there, but I KNOW they are there. I feel them, I am holding them.

All my memories are laid out in front of me and I begin to rearrange them. Every thought becomes a reality, more vivid and real than anything in my life beforehand. Time is nothing.

I can feel EVERYTHING, yet at the same time absolutely nothing. I feel the startling sensation of everything becoming clear, my thoughts making sense.

Now I am dying. I am really, genuinely dying. I know I am dying and there is nothing I can do to stop it. But I don’t care. I feel a surprising sense of bliss. Happiness that I have lived this experience. But I don’t die. Instead I start to talk to people I love or who I have loved.

All this time I am floating outside myself but very much inside my mind. I am aware of the reality around me, my friends talking by my side, people walking around. Yet I feel, or rather I know, that they are on a different plain, unable to affect my journey. I wander around the depths of my sub-conscious, grabbing every thought and emotion and smelling them, letting them take me over for as long as they need.

Slowly, I begin to slip out of this trance that isn’t a trance. For it is too real to be unreal, too clear to be a dream. I have been inside my head. I was there, there is no question of that. I turn to my friends with a smile that is new to me, for I have never felt such happiness. They are beautiful. Ignore the gallons of sweat dripping down their foreheads, the stench of vomit and duck poo (I was assured that the two ducks I saw nonchalantly wandering around WERE in fact real), they are beautiful people.

Once I manage to haul myself out of the hammock, I slowly stumble down to a little waterfall for the ritual cleansing. I feel like my body is drunk but my mind is more sober than it has ever been. The cold water feels better than any shower I have ever taken. In fact, everything I end up doing that evening and the next day is the best thing I have ever done. The lights of Bogota mesmerize me as we drive back to the city, my bed is a cloud, the grapes are a gift from the gods.

I apologise if this description successfully manages to describe absolutely nothing, but the effect of the medicine is an entirely personal and unique journey. For the belief is that the plant only shows you or brings out what is already inside you. Even a bad trip must be seen as a positive experience, as your body and mind purge themselves of demons and evil spirits. There is no better way to get to know yourself, to cure yourself.

Yet, as I mentioned before, this is something which must be taken seriously. For a week before taking yage, you are expected to go on a pretty brutal diet. No alcohol, no cigarettes, absolutely no other mind-altering drugs, no meat, no wheat, no flour, no salt, no oil, no fat, no citrus fruits, no tea, no coffee, no soft drinks. Basically nothing fun. I spent an entire week eating raw fruit and vegetables and being hungrier than I ever thought possible. But if you don’t follow the diet, the vast majority of your trip will be spent in the bathroom as the plant gets rid of all the toxins in your body.

It is vital to treat the experience with respect for the sacred plant and the ancient indigenous tradition. For this to work to the full extent, you must prepare your mind and your body and, as stupid as it may sound, go prepared with questions that you want to ask the yage. Be ready to purge yourself and accept that you may experience some pretty painful things. But this is all part of the ritual, of cleansing your body, mind and soul.

Finally, I must stress the importance of doing this under the right circumstances. Yage is no joke. If you don’t take it in the right environment, with friends you feel comfortable with and with people carrying out the ceremony who know exactly what they are doing, then it can have some serious consequences. If you do it right, however, there is no telling how fulfilling and enriching this can be.

As far as medicines go, this sure beats a couple of ibuprofen.

 

Cover image from komikame.wordpress.com