Shaman Spit

Almost none of the transformational, personal growth work I exposed myself to in thirty-five years of the human potential movement prepared me to meet curandero (physical healer) don Edwin, in Puerto Maldenado, Peru. Even in the dimly-lit hotel room, the shaman’s gleaming gold fillings, immaculate, wife-beater t-shirt and primary red cargo pants demanded attention. Where were the feather headdress, the mask, the dried, llama toenail rattle? Setting unmet expectations aside, I focused on finding the coolest, least humid spot for the four-hour ayahuasca (vision-inducing drink)ceremony. I watched in silence as the shaman’s assistant dismantled beds, arranging the mattresses on the floor. In the still, balmy air of the riverside room, I wondered why this tributary to the Amazon River was named Madre de Dios (Mother of God). I wondered what I was getting myself into.

Traveling with a group of women on a spiritual pilgrimage, I flew the previous morning from Cusco, at 11,000 feet in the Andes, to Puerto Maldonado, at 900 feet, in the Amazon jungle. Looking down on the thick rainforest, I noticed the contrast between the lush, green jungle and the serpentine path of the muddy river coursing through it. We checked in at the Wasai Lodge, which advertised not only six wooden bungalows raised on stilts above the river, but also “hot and cold” water. Even spiritual pilgrims enjoy having the comforts of home. We had come to the jungle to work at the cosmic, ceremonial level with don Ignacio, a world-renown shaman, the night before (separate posting). An exploratory walk introduced us to don Edwin through a hand-lettered billboard in front of his residence adjacent to the lodge. It promoted his ayahuasca ceremonies. Given the opportunity to participate again, this time with a physical healer, I said yes.

Since there were three participants and only two mattresses, don Edwin’s assistant went to find an additional mattress. While he was gone, I strategized about the best place to sit. Like Goldilocks, I tried and eliminated several alternatives. In the meantime, my traveling companions settled in on the two available mattresses. I remained standing. The assistant returned empty handed. With upturned palms and a shrug of his shoulders, he looked at me directly and said, “It’s the first test.” I immediately sat down on the crack between the two mattresses. This decision to surrender alone was as valuable as any other part of the evening.

Don Edwin continued his preparations, setting up his altar on the floor. Not only can he be called a curandero, he is also an ayahuasqero, or a shaman who ingests ayahuasca for ceremony and a tabaquero, one who uses tobacco ceremonially.

The term “ayahuasca” comes from the Quechua (indigenous people of Peru) language and means “spirit vine,” “teacher plant” or “Vine of the Soul.” Considered the mother of all medicine, the vine is brewed into a tea along with leaves of the chacruna plant. Drinking the brew produces visions and provides information that can be used to heal. It is an entheogenic, which literally means “generating God within.” It can provide an experience of the divine essence within each person. Some say “entheogenic” is a euphemism, or kinder word, for what the sixties would have labeled a “psychedelic” or “hallucinogenic” drug. For me, the difference is in intention, and intention is everything. What some approach as recreational drug use, others approach as sacred, spiritual ceremony, perhaps with corresponding results. Establishing “set” and “setting,” (separate posting) or individual and group intentions, is important in preparing for sacred ceremony. My intention for both the spiritual pilgrimage to Peru and the ayahuasca ceremony was “To be all that I have come to be,” to remove any obstacles to living my life purpose fully. Spiritual preparation also includes dietary and additional practices in advance (separate posting).

One of my companions had a fever. She was physically ill with severe cold symptoms and bronchitis. She wanted to know if she should participate. Don Edwin spoke only Spanish, but his assistant spoke Spanish and English. He translated her question for the shaman who assured her it would be okay. Once don Edwin said prayers, he drank ayahuasca. Then the three of us drank it too. By the end of the ceremony, all her symptoms were gone.

Don Edwin began singing icaros, hauntingly beautiful sacred songs, to call forth the plant spirits. Some were in Spanish. “Medicina, medicina, venga mi, venga mi.” (Medicine, medicine, come to me, come to me). “Doctor Ayahuasca, come, come to me, come to me.” Rhythmic shaking of the shacapa (leaf-bundle rattle) accompanied him. The visions started. I saw snakes undulating inside my body, in the intestines. They were beautiful - covered with intricate, folk-art designs etched in black and white. They moved from one side of my body to the other in horizontal figure eights, the sign of infinity. My torso began swaying with the same figure-eight motion, like a snake charmer or his snake. I saw miniature faces consisting solely of tiny eyes and mouths, peeking out from between the intestines. They said in small voices, “Tengo miedo, tengo miedo” (I’m afraid). I recognized them as fear thoughts and knew they were afraid because soon I would address them, and they would disappear.

I heard the sound of air being sucked in as the shaman began work on the woman to my left. Barely opening my eyes, I watched while translucent smoke streamed from individual chakras, or energy centers, on her body into the shaman’s mouth about five feet away. He spat the residue from each one into a bowl. When it was my turn for healing, he literally put his mouth on my abdomen for the sucking procedure. I had a “conversation” with him. He spoke to me internally about my life purpose, why I had come to Earth. Looking back, I can only call it telepathic communication. I answered him aloud in Spanish. I’ve not experienced anything like it before or since. During the ceremony, don Edwin put agua florida (flower water, cologne) into his mouth and sprayed us with it.

Late for breakfast the next morning, I threw on the first t-shirt I found, the one I’d worn the night before during the ceremony. At the table, I looked down to see small, mildew-like spots on my white shirt. Pulling the bottom edge of the shirt away from my body, I discovered the entire shirt was covered with brown spots. Realizing they came from the tobacco in don Edwin’s mouth, I groaned, “Ewwwww, shaman spit.” Our tour leader exclaimed, “Wear it with pride!”