Ayahuasca (B. caapi, P. viridis, & D. cabrerana)
Citation: crystallinesheen. "Wild Horses Are After My Spleen!: An Experience with Ayahuasca (B. caapi, P. viridis, & D. cabrerana) (exp19864)". Erowid.org. Jul 2, 2003. erowid.org/exp/19864
Oh, the whisper of that cool, Hawaiian breeze envelopes my body even now, as I sit here in my humble abode just thinking about a wonderful experience that I had last week. Wonderful....now ain't that a word? A word that many use, but just as many can't quite encapsulate their experiences using it....but it works well enough to describe the ayahuasca state of being....
This would be my second journey into the heart of DMT. My first experience was nothing short of miraculous. It ranks with my first acid trip & my experience on datura as being events in my life where I broke through the substratum and became more than an innocent bystander. Oh yeah, now I am a PARTICIPANT in this novel adventure we call existence. For all of you people, who, like me, like 'pressing my reset button' every once in a while with LSD, but are fed up with impure acid & lack of that precious substance, look no farther. Not only can you grow this stuff yourself, it is natural and is seriously good for you. So when a treasured friend came out to visit me from Santa Cruz, (hereby known as B) I had a psychedelic regimen ready for him.
A weekend before, I introduced him to AMT, so he could enter & become familiar with the tryptamine reality. I guess LSD counts as a tryptamine, being from the same family, but I feel that AMT puts one onto the 'tip of the iceberg' in regards to the ayahuasca experience. Those worlds that are explored in the alpha-methyltryptamine state are just a micron to what the eternal knowledge of the plants opens up to us, but I feel grateful that I had done a lot of AMT before aya. I have no problem doing both chemical & biological ethenogens, as I feel that the chemicals are like petulant children, while plant-based substances are the equivalent of the 'bearded elder' archetype, chock-full of wisdom.
So, since I had roughly two doses of aya mixture left (approx. 70 grams of each substance) I decided that we would go camping overnight and trip on the Good Stuff. Since I live here on this awesome island of Hawaii, I had many places to choose from to go. Such considerations are just as important as the substances that one is doing, in my opinion. I decided on going up the coast to Waipio Valley, a mile-wide gulch that is probably the most spiritual place on the island. Hawaiian royalty, in the past, would go there to work out treaties and other such things, because of the spiritual power of the place. Let me tell you people, it is one sacred spot. Going there is the equivalent of going to 100 haunted houses at once, at least to my very sensitive spritual sense. And then, there are the Night Marchers. Taken as fact among the Hawaiian people, at certain places on the island, at certain times of the year, people have witnessed ghostly processions made up of Hawaiian warriors from long ago. They were part of the ancient court of the King, who, if they saw you looking at them or their ruler, would come up and kill you on the spot.
So now, if you happen to hear drumming & see oddly dressed, glowing people at certain spots on the island, you have to put your face to the ground and not look at the spirits, or they would take your soul! Waipio valley is one of these places, something my morbid soul relished in the choosing of this place for our trip. I did not know that this would totally turn around on me and bite me on the ass.......
The day came for our camping trip. As I was taking my finals at the time, I came home from school, brain a'buzzin, and immediately took off with my friend. I had spent the entire day before, preparing the brew, which I nearly forgot in my rush to get to our destination before dark. For those who are interested, I boiled 70 grams of caapi vine, 70 grams of psychotria, and about 10-15 grams of diplopterys leaf in my brew, for shits and giggles. I had let the mixtures soak separately overnight in filtered water with the juice of one Hawaiian lemon in each, then boiled each mixture separately for an hour at a time, straining, then adding a fresh lemon's juice to each for a total of three times, then boiled that down to a resonable amount. I think the lemons help one helluva lot, as they make the mixture more acidic, which helps the alkaloids migrate into the water. I believe in keeping the mixtures separate, as I like to give the vine brew enough time to do its MAOI thing and supress those pesky enzymes, then gulping down the rest of the DMT containing brew.
Finally, we were on our way, blazing up the Hamakua coast, literally! I had obtained some very good cannabis for my friend's visit, which we indulged in liberally on our ride to our destiny. We arrived at the sacred valley a couple of hours before sunset. Some of the waning afternoon sunlight slipped through the fog that was beginning to develop over the valley, which itself looks like it would be more in place somewhere in China. It had that emerald-green mystique to it, maybe Irish in signifigance.....everyone can see everything in a place like Waipio, a collection of the broad Godliness inherient in such Holy Places. (And no, that Godliness I'm talking about ain't Christian, let's say it's a reflection of the Holiness of Nature) We stood at the top of a mile long road that led down into the valley, looking at the green majesty of it all. We knew some major shit was about to happen to us, that we were on a trip back to ourselves, and going back to our orginal place in the grand scheme of things. Totally Holy, something that you can't slap a price tag on and sell at Wal-Mart, for sure.
The path down was extremely steep, so steep, in fact, that we couldn't walk down in a conventional manner, we had to go down in an almost zig-zag manner. A fucking 25% slope, people!! But we felt that it was necessary for such physical toil to achieve the ultimate, which kept beckoning us ever onward. We reached the bottom, none too soon, as downhill manuvering was very tiresome! I was very tired, because I had been fasting all day and didn't have the benefit of energy. That was offset by the cannabis we kept smoking & the yerba mate I drink religiously. Oh yeah, by the way, I drink COPIOUS amounts of this stuff before & after aya, it is traditionally used in the Amazon to give strength to deal with Ayahuasca. It is chock-full of vitamins & minerals that is much better than any multivitamin or B-12 kinda shite.....this stuff gives real power, especially when not having eaten for a day!
We started walking down a blissfully level path towards the ocean once we got down to the bottom. I noticed that this was no normal jungle that we were hiking through. There was so many beautiful Hawaiian plants planted about here and there, obviously by human intent throughout the ages. There was obviously a long-standing energy in place here, ya'll know, like I kinda felt seeing all of these really cool shrubs and flowers & trees the same way I felt seeing those 200 year old live oaks planted in rows in front of plantation homes in my home state of Louisiana. Just of feeling of humaness, that extends long before my birth and onward, past my death. A feeling of permanence, propagated by impermanent humanity. Strong mana, for sure. We walked through this jungle, seeing partridges and other unidentified aves flittering & fluttering about everywhere. Let me tell ya'll, it was as if I was in a jungle somewhere else in the world, or maybe somewhere else in this galaxy.....I felt the alienness of such a spot impacting me in such a tangible, warm-blanket sort of way. The trip before the trip, so to speak.
The ocean finally spoke out loudly, and I knew that we were getting to our destination, a two mile stretch of the most soul-stretching expanse of black sand beach I have ever experienced. And then, we were there. The sea stretched out in front of us, hungry for things we could know but never surely comprehend.....oceans everywhere have an appetite for land, they are ready to return it to it's original home. To the bottom of the deep for you, then subducted and spat out on the other side of the planet in another 20000 years or so!! It's all our fate to be recycled, it is just a trip to experience that thing in our shells of bodies.
Fortunately, the beach was almost totally empty, save for a couple of other campers in the 'designated camping spots'. I am, if anything, NOT a designated kinda guy, so we hiked on down the beach in search of a good, off in the wilderness kinda spot to launch our souls out from. Taking the advice of a friend who had squatted down at this beach, I crossed the mighty Waipio River (only about knee deep) to get to the other blessed, wild side. Oh, a quick recollection, if you please, this pretty little river reminded me of the Big Sur River running through the Andrew Molena (sic) campground in Big Sur.....from the river into the sea for me.....my girlfriend & I had a very spiritual experience there on LSD & Ecstacy. Or not the drugs....it was what the drugs helped reveal about the life that we were living at the time, a sweetness and peacefullness that water everywhere brings. The flow of H20 is a metaphor for our existence.......and I surely love being reminded of that.
So we crossed the little raging river and explored the territory on the other side. You know, it is magical to be on a long, broad, mystical beach all by your lonesome. I feel like I have dropped several hundred years (like Murple saying in one of his tales, 'I felt several hundred years younger') but it was necessary for the transcendence that was immanent, I felt. You just can't have the spirit come to ya...you have to go and find that crazed beast! So we went a'huntin' for it. After we had gone quite a ways down the beach, I felt reasonably insulated from society, and felt it was time to start looking for a campsite. My friend went looking as well, and finally, after looking at several likely places, we agreed on a favorable spot. I managed to set up my tent and B gathered firewood before it got too awfully dark. It was pure enjoyment to build a fire and sit and enjoy our posistion, seemingly on the edge of the earth, before the onrush of time, thought, & reason.
The fire burned merrily & bright, and I decided it was time to have a refreshing cup of yerba mate before the ayahuasca. I scraped some coals from the fire into a shallow depression right next to it, placed a metal grate I had scavenged from my job on top of the coals, and placed a metal pot of water on that. Within twenty minutes, the water was hot enough for tea, and we enjoyed some of Earth's finest. Good shit, ya'll, it is always good to get as much of that RainForest Amazonian goodness in you before the Trip. Afterwords, I got the plastic bottle of vine brew, and dumped the contents into the pot to warm, as I hate drinking this stuff cold. As the contents heated, B & I performed our own rituals to ready our souls for a little death (le petite mort, in the French tongue of my ancestry) for as beautiful as the experience is, I explained to my aya-virgin buddy, it is like returning to that place before life & after death. Do what you have to to get ready, I told him. I just wanted to make sure my good friend was ready, and I saw that he was. We chanted, I had some Hawaiian salt (which is very holy stuff used by kahuna) which I helped use to purify us in my own little ritual, and I felt we were ready.
The brew of the Vine of the Souls was ready, and so were we. I poured the same amount of liquid in each of our cups, and it was time to drink. After sipping the brew, he declared that it wasn't as bad as he had thought it would be, and proceed to gulp his down, as did I. When we had finished, he brought out his CD player and speakers and put on some Hawaiian chants & drums that we hoped would help align the spirits of the place toward our cause. Ya'll, never go into a place full of energy like we did without taking the local spirits into mind! They demand, as always, the ultimate respect, especially when travelling around in their dimension.
I could feel the vine coming on strong, as we smoked the last bud of my summer harvest I had saved for the occasion to combat the mild nausea, as well as to help line us up with a familiar energy, namely, my own. I find a quiet satisfaction is completing the loop with my substances. You who have smoked your own bud as opposed to some you may have bought from another source know what I am talking about. The synergy is wonderful, and needed as known landmarks in the territory of the unknown. I remember standing up, feeling the first of the harmine alkaloids wash over me, when a very, VERY peculiar thing happened to me. I was listening to the Hawaiian chanting & drumming on the CD player & really enjoying the flow with the immediate spirituality of the environment, when a new track came on. It was several masculine voices accompanied with drums, but the sound didn't come out of the speakers anymore. No, it went out to the beach at a angle of about 45 degrees off of my right side about 200 yards out into the beach/ocean. That's where the sound was coming from TO MY EARS.
I realized what happened. All of my warnings to my friend about the Night Marchers had fucked me. The power of the vine opened me up to an aspect of reality that is always just a little bit out of our reach. Instead of hearing the music from the stereo, it was coming from the beach, and coming for my soul. I immediately freaked out, and ran & jumped into my tent and smashed my face into the floor. B ran after me, I thought because he heard the chanting & drums coming from the beach as well. I was thinking just like this, ya'll, 'Fuck, I have only been here a couple of hours and now the goddamn Night Marchers are walking around and I won't be able to trip because of this SHIT, and if I'm lucky, I'll be spending the rest of the night hiding from the spirits, GODAMNIT TO FUCKING HELL!! I was ready for spiritual battle, ya'll! I heard the chanting going up and down the beach in a very disembodied way, and finally it faded away.
Now, I know all of ya'll have heard about such things, do you know what you would do if you actually heard them? I bet you would go crazy, too! Oh god, it was as if my new found abilites of shamanism were being put to the test, I was thinking of everything that I had read & learned that would help me combat these psychic warriors, I didn't know what to do. What really does an American do, without benefit of knowledgable shamans to help them, get through this DARK NIGHT of the soul? The truth is, nothing. You will either live, or die, determined by the strength of your soul. Your karma, or as they say here in Hawaii, your mana, will be the sole determiner.
I think my friend listened to my admonitions, and did indeed smash his face into the ground to hide from the Night Marchers, so, as I heard the Marchers fade off into the distance, I asked him in a warbly voice, 'B, did you hear that?' 'What,' he asked, 'what in the fuck are you tripping about?' 'It's the fucking Marchers,' I said with 1000% seriousness. (I didn't want to talk while I heard the drums and chanting for fear the ghostly warriors would hear me) 'I'm keeping the fuckers from taking my soul, didn't you hear them?'
'Well, I heard it on the CD,' he said, and I was suddenly very relieved. It came to me that I wasn't going to be locked in a soul-struggle for the rest of the night, that I would be OK, and that was probably the most comfortable realization I had ever experienced in my entire life. Ya'll out there, you do not EVER want to do battle with spirits if you are not ready. What I realized, as I fragmentally limped to the fire, is that the sounds from the CD player had impacted with the environment in such a way that the life that lies a little bit past our understanding was suddenly alive....the realm of ghosts. A metaphor I have used in explaining it to him and others is like a spiritual 'sonar ping'. Since I have a fascination with submarines, this metaphor makes the most sense to me. It was like a traditional Hawaiian chant had gone out into our physical environment and animated something that I just couldn't place my finger on....or maybe I could! It brought it to life to me, just like a sonar ping can illuminate something underwater.....I got FEEDBACK!!
It is safe to say I felt a lot of concern for my friend, as I didn't want him to think I was insane or anything, especially entering into a powerful trip, so I told him that I had felt it was energy that I just had to come to terms with before I could fully trip, and I think he understood, being a rugged psychedelic veteran himself. Thank god, I think a newbie would have run for civilization, exposed to such raw insanity!! But, for me, it is a common occurrence. I am so sensitive to psychic energy, I realize that the trip is about all things, both good and bad (and utterly UNCLASSIFIABLE) that we just have to deal with. Life ain't all about cozy cushions and fireplaces, oh no, life is like a volcanic eruption. Life & death are the same energy, it's the spin we put on it, ya know?
B finally calmed me down enough, and I went from shaman-about-to-do-battle-with-spirits to just normal 'ol me, trippin' balls on ayahuasca. It felt good to be back in the world, so good, in fact, that I felt it was time to drink the psychotria-diplopterys brew. Time to take the trip to new heights! Never fear...the plants are here!! I poured out the Light part of the brew into pot, heated it up, and we drank deeply, equal amounts, as the experienced shaman needs to be on the same level as the neophyte. I believe that the psychotria brew smells & tastes like apple pie! I'm not lying! It is definitely the better tasting of the two mixtures. We drank away, and waited for the results.
The first time I did ayahuasca all by my lonesome, I drank the psychotria brew, and waited, and waited. Other than seeing a few spaceships and tracers and feeling a general sense of well-being, not much happened. At the 45 minute mark, I ate some buttered toast (prepared lovingly by my girlfriend) and five minutes later, all of that juicy DMT got released from my gallbladder into my intestines and GOOD FUCKING THINGS happened after that! So on this trip, I had prepared some buttered rice beforehand to eat, and when the time was right, I ate that shit. Oh boy, to get that aya workin', eat some fatty food, because five minutes later, I was TRIPPING BALLS. B, who is a vegan, had brought an avocado for this purpose, ate it and had the same thing happen to him. Fatty food rules in releasing that bile-bound DMT!!
And we were off to the races! Oh god, to me, DMT has more visuals in common with psilocybin than LSD, but the cumulative effect outstrips everything I have ever done, EVER. My own thoughts are that DMT is the most primative substance that all other psychedelics are based on. It is a conduit direct from your pineal gland blasting off into infinity. The brew makes me just wander around in what I call a 'beautiful delirium'. If I had to describe the ayahuasca experience in two words, it would be 'beautiful delirium'. B just laid on the ground prostrate while I played around with this 'war club' that I had found, that was a grand piece of carbon! As I danced around, swinging my new-found club (a random piece of driftwood) in my hands, dancing to an awesome trance beat in my head, I felt like an ancient Hawaiian warrior. The warrior spirit was making me dance, the swirls that my body made made rainbow ripples in my sight. It was as if my dance was pre-ordained by the gods, to benefit their lust for poetic violence.
You know, war is like a dance too, you have to build up that good energy in yourself before you go to war. The Hawaiian warriors were speaking through my movements, I swung my club around with the beat in my head, a perfect, poetic warrior. You tripper shamen know what I mean, it's like each movement you make in striking down an invisible enemy is almost like orgasm? I have seen kata, the Japanese dance of power & spirit that is pure poetry in its movements, it's like that. I am trying to describe the spirit that took over me, for about an hour Earth time I danced and swung my club in praise of ancestors I would never know, but who sure as fuck knew me.
I went to go find B after a while of tripping, he was still lying on the ground, funny thing was, he was halfway into the ground! It was as if he was sinking into the Earth! I ran over to make sure he wouldn't leave totally, I didn't want to lose him that night. But what is 'lost', you know? We all go back to the Earth when we die, but we have to stay above the soil long enough to tell everybody else about the trip! There is a time and place to die, and me & him, full of our early twenties youth, knew it wasn't time at all for decay. But he was happy, I could tell. Every shaman experiences that release when their subject loses themselves into the dream, and they are one with themselves. Then we as shamen can relax and flow with the universe. I just don't want to give someone the universe and have them 'freak out' or somesuch.
'Freaking out', now what is that shit...people see their eventual end, and instead of sinking into the earth, they think they are more than that and rebel. Now, we should rebel against some things (like George Bush's idea of American hegemony across the world, that cocklicking bastard Neo-Hitler of a despot....okay, that's all for my political angst) but you can't do shit about death. It's either 'I'm gonna slip back into the dream' or 'I'm gonna fight tooth and nail to hang on to my little shell of humanity as long as I can' and then the Bad Trip develops. All I can say is B and I reclined in the universe's Easy Chair, and we fucking dug that shit. I knew my friend would be alright, no matter what.
At about an hour into the trip, we started to wander about, encountering many stange spirits. I talked to the moon, the spirit of a Hawaiian girl 400 years old, many old Hawaiian kahuna and many other such entities in the environment. Being cast adrift in a pool of entities is cool, but you have to get over the fact that most of the intelligence you experience has been dead a long while, but that is okay. You have to keep remembering that you will join them in time, but now it is time to encounter them in this shell so people like me can tell everyone in the world what is going on in the realm of the spirit. Datura made me realize that, at the best of times, we have one foot in the land of the dead and the land of the living at all times. That's just how it is.
Ayahuasca makes me realize funny shit. Like I have about a ten second delay between thought. I can think of the most reality-shaking concept, but ten seconds later, in the midst of describing it, it is already forgotten! As it starts to wear off, I can tell because I can actually have intelligent conversations with others. Eventually, B's and my conversations became more concentrated and less wholly abstact. As in the fact we could have any converstation at all! Ya'll, it was funny until that point, we were sitting around the campfire, talking the most elegant nonsense, oh, so wonderful. As we were very good friends, the ability to communicate rapidly came upon us, and we talked about very personal, wholesome things. It was very good for both of us, I think. Ya'll all probably have that one good person in the world you just want to rap with every once in a while, well, B is that person for me, and we talked some good fucking talk. I think we both needed it, around a holy campfire fired with sacred wood from the beach of the spirits.
After a while, after talking the world inside out, I felt the need to sleep, or at least just shut down for a while. I climbed into the tent as the moon finished its rotation across the sky and sank beyond the northern rim of the valley. The tropical night grew cold as I bundled up in my girlfriend's borrowed Vietnamese sleeping bag to catch a couple of hour's sleep.
When I awoke, early sunlight permeated the thin walls of my tent. I reckoned it to be around eight in the morning. I exited the tent, still tripping, looking around for B, hoping he hadn't wandered off too far. Soon, he emerged from the jungle, full of vim and vigor. He hadn't slept at all, my guess is that he just wandered around in the jungle all night. In celebration of the morning, we smoked a bowl and brewed up some more yerba mate for breakfast. It was a good way to greet the morning, for sure! The only thing that detracted from the good energy was the Green Harvest helocopters flying overhead, in search of dope.
Everybody in Hawaii hates these BASTARDS, as the Hawaiian economy mostly relies on cannabis, which these people want to wipe out. It's not just the dope-eradication that pisses me off, it is the fact that they come into this HOLY VALLEY and disturb the spirits (and tripping campers) to do such things as fly 500 feet over the ground looking for the Healing Herb. Why can't these testicle lickers get a life? It's the same as CAMP in Humboldt county and a million other places across this country, it's the last gasps of a failed policy that is BAD MANA for those involved. I really feel that the ancient Hawaiian warriors will come back someday to these bastards in their cockpits, force them down, hopefully the pilots will live, but with that 'fear of god' that so many of my childhood elders threatened me with.
Eventually, the choppers went away, and we got back in living & loving the morning. I knew we would have to leave eventually, but we put it off as long as we could. The moment, and the place was much too holy to cast aside that easily. But, like death, it comes all too quickly, and eventually, we had to make that long hike back to civilization. So we regettably packed up all of our gear and got ready for the hike out. We said goodbye to our blasting pad (campsite, in other words) and hiked back to civilization. We recrossed the Waipio River in grand aquatic enjoyment, to be greeted by the great sandblasting machine that is the Wind. Oh yeah, dear readers, a million grains of sand lambasted us on our journey, flung by at least a forty mile-an-hour wind! I felt like a public declaration hated by the Bush Administration, and sandblasted to extinction. Ya'll, the wind was tough! I had to walk backwards to avoid getting the fine particles in my contact-enhanced eyes. My boots were hanging around my neck by their strings to avoid getting wet in the river, so since I started to enter some rough terrain, I sat down and took them off to wear on my journey up and out of the valley.
B and I sat down in the view of some magnificent wild stallions involved in some crazed horseplay. Let me illuminate you on some history, for a second. Back during the tsunami of '46, many people lost their homes and lives in Waipio Valley due to the awesome force of the ocean. Tsunamis, to ya'll who don't know what I'm talking about, is a fucking tidal wave, for instance, where me & B camped, it would have been a 30 foot wall of water consuming all that it could encompass. If ya'll interested in this shit, look up the Pacific Tsunami Museum in my home city of Hilo (where I am typing this right now) and see for yourself the fury of nature. Most everybody that survived moved up to higher ground, they left their horses, they left so fast. Well, their horses, freed of fences and borders, turned wild and reproduced, so now, you'll see about 5th generation wild horses running around, free as jaybirds.
It is a testament to the power to the valley that no one has tried to capture these fine animals for their own. There is a 'live and let live' kind of energy in Waipio valley, one that I think protects both human & horse alike from predation. Grow some fucking dope, foal a sweet little horse, whatever, man & beast can get back to their roots in Waipio. If the Feds don't like it, let's see you defy the ancient Hawaiian spirits and do something about it!! I think it is important to feel this way, especially since everybody wants to know everything that we do, fuck them!
Alright, let me tell you about these wild horses. They go wherever they want to go, whenever they want to. I think they represent what we as a species consider holy and free. All people down at Waipio know these wild animals, born free and will never bow down to any kind of infringment on their basic freedoms. B & I observed this, and felt so marvelous just being able to witness these wild stallions bucking & fighting, just the way Nature made them. It made me feel very integrated & happy. So it was incredible when a young mare (from the herd of wild ponies we were watching) walked over to us! I was raised in the country, with many horses, and I have never seen a horse walk over to unknown people like this little mare did. Usually, only horses that know their owners will attempt this kind of familiarity, but I was awestruck by the friendliness this little equine displayed. Suddenly, I had a wild quadruped nuzzling my shoulder!
Now, if you have a wild horse as opposed to a tamed horse paying attention to you, it is easy to tell the difference, at least to me it is. Both animals are looking for the random apple or carrot that you may have on you, but only a wild horse claims territory on your ass! She wants payment for gliding through her territory. I feel that penned-in horses have kind of a constipated view of things, they know that they have no real freedom. But their wild relatives know, they know that they rule their territory, and all humans should pay tribute to their consuming knowledge and precedence.
The little mare kept nuzzling B & I like a pair of long-lost lovers. I knew what she was looking for, but, as I had not eaten in a day and a half, I didn't have shit to eat. B, on the other hand, had a plastic bag full of granola, which he was totally willing to share to this fellow mammal. He whipped it out and poured it out onto the sand, while we both petted and stroked this wonderful animal. It was uncanny, I was still in this total communion with all creatures great and small, and I had the most wonderful conversation with this animal as I stood by her, watching her eat. She told me that her name was Lila, and a load of other stuff as well. I stood by her side, as did B, and we stroked her and gave her solid good energy. I don't think I felt as close as I did to that horse as any that I had experienced in my life. I mean, this lil' girl was for real!
After the experience we had had the night before, this was a natural aspect of the whole thing, a natural part of the entirity of existence that we commanded at a whim. Why couldn't we dig the horse's trip? I made the comment to B, 'Remember the part in 'Gulliver's Travels' when he came into contact with the intelligent horses? This is just like that shit'.
Oh yeah, it was just like that, a total communion. At least until it was time to leave. After about thirty minutes or so of stroking this horse, I felt the need to get about the task of getting up that massive hill in front of us. Since we were so locked into the horse's trip, I felt it only appropropriate to say goodbye to this fellow mammal. 'Well, it was great making your acquaintance, hope yo...' that was as far as I got, as the horse turned around and bit me right in the fucking stomach. I'm not talking about a love nip, I seriously thought the beast had taken out a chunk out of my torso. The pain, oh the pain....suffice to say it was the Number One Pain of 2002, for sure. Oh, it hurt, I think if she had kicked me in the spleen, I would have been better off. Thank god for beer fat, I felt that the bite was only a shade less that what would have been needed for a full-on disembowelment, I am not kidding.
I have been nipped my many horses before, but, as I am writing this about a week later, there is two distinct jaw marks on my abdomen turning a nice black/green/yellow right now. I seriously thought a wild horse was going to end my life right there by chomping my spleen. Oh GOD! It was as real in the physical sense as had the Night Marchers the previous night. I feel that they were one and the same. In trying to explain how this calm horse suddenly nearly ate my intestines (I have a blood scab from the skin splitting open from the force of the pressure) I realized that she was Nature telling me, 'Okay, you enjoyed yourself, now get the FUCK off my beach.' Godamn, you didn't have to be so direct!!
I limped away, as B helped retrieved our gear from the maw of the little horse (who looked peaceful, but obviously had had enough of us) and we started our walk up off of the beach. The most incredible pain enveloped me as I walked away, almost enough to drop me on the ground like a wounded soldier. I persevered, somehow, and we hiked away, trying to figure out just why this empress of Peace had attacked me. I felt it was nothing personal, just a wild animal wanting to clear me out of her space. When sweet, cuddly nature bites you on the ass, you want to explain it the best you can, but sometimes explanations don't do it credit. You just have to go with what you know. We hiked up the hill, got back to my truck, and left, thinking. Thinking fucking bloody hard about life, death, and tempestuous horses, and what they meant to us.
A week later, I am still thinking about these messages, these meanings that continue to assail my brain. What did it all mean? Why did things happen so perfectly to us? Heh, I have had so much fun showing my wild horse bruise to everyone and telling the story. It is not a wound sustained through my own clumsiness, but inflicted by a wild animal, a animal that lives that trip that I just related to all of you. My first trip on ayahuasca was all about experiencing the entities, those extradimensional entities that gave us life and everything around us life. This trip was all about life. I mean no aliens this time, it was all about ghosts and terresterial spirits. How there is now difference between Night Marchers and wild Waipio Valley horses. Both remind you of the sacredness of nature, and of how understanding that is so precious and holy.
For us to operate & cavort in this dimension, we need to take into account many things beyond our ken. To operate in the spirit realm, one must take many things into account. Like, take enough granola to satisfy the spirit horses when they come a'callin'! Ha, ha, I hope ya'll enjoyed this little soliloquy, and remember, when trippin' in Waipio Valley, Hawaii, don't forget good ol' spirit appeasment, 'cause them spirits are hungry!
Love and light from a southerner in exile......
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