What Ayahuasca Really Is

I recently wrote an article here asking the question: What is ayahuasca really?

A few nights ago, I sat in my eighth and final ayahuasca ceremony of this journey in Peru — and it was one of the strongest ceremonies I’ve ever experienced. It gave me a deeper appreciation for what this medicine actually is and what it does.

So in this article, I want to share some reflections — not as conclusions, but as notes from my journey. My understanding will continue to mature, but as of now, having sat with this medicine thirteen times, something feels clearer than it ever has.

The retreat in the Amazon with Paititi Institute was a beautiful and deeply held experience. I’m especially grateful to have been working on the support team and to have grown closer to the amazing humans behind this organization.

After returning to the Sacred Valley, we continued sitting in ceremony with just the core team as part of our integration and ongoing remembrance. One thing I’ve come to see more clearly — with ayahuasca and spiritual experiences in general — is this:

In moments of insight, there can be profound clarity.
And then… slowly, the ego returns.

Old patterns reassert themselves. Familiar habits creep back in. The truths that felt undeniable during the experience begin to fade into memory.

This is natural. Our conditioning is deep. The ego is persistent. And because of that, I feel it’s essential to meet this process with compassion rather than judgment. Awakening isn’t a single breakthrough — it’s an ongoing undoing.

What I found especially interesting was sitting with the medicine outside of the formal retreat container. Not in the jungle, not surrounded by ceremony structure — but in a house, on a regular night, as part of ordinary life.

In some ways, this made the experience even more revealing. It bridged the gap between retreat insight and daily living. It felt like a brief return to Truth — and a reminder of how easily that Truth is forgotten when the ego quietly takes the reins again.

This touches on something I now feel is central to what ayahuasca does.

As my friend Roman often says, “It creates a powerful gap in the continuity of the ego.”

We all live inside a conditioned sense of self — a small bubble of “me” that shapes how we perceive reality. That bubble keeps us oriented around personal concerns, narratives, fears, and desires. It’s not wrong, but it is limiting.

Ayahuasca interrupts that continuity.

For a time, it loosens the grip of this conditioned identity and opens us into a much wider field of experience — one where we can directly sense our true nature and see the ways we habitually veil ourselves from reality.

In that space, there is often a deep feeling of liberation, accompanied by clarity. We see the patterns we’ve been trapped in. We see the illusions we’ve been defending. And sometimes, we’re given the chance to let them go.

Whether we live from that insight afterward is, of course, up to us.

We began our ceremony around 10:30 p.m.

Every batch of ayahuasca is different. Indigenous traditions often say the medicine carries its own spirit. Roman names each batch after his first experience with it, and that night he pulled one from the freezer called “Wake the Dead.”

He mentioned it was very strong — not something offered in retreats, but only for those with experience. There were four of us sitting together, and he poured generous cups, knowing it would be our final ceremony as a group.

When the medicine came on, it felt as though I was dissolving into space. Powerful visuals and patterns filled my perception, and it took effort just to remain seated. I stayed upright in my meditation posture, knowing that stability would help me meet the intensity without being overwhelmed.

Closing my eyes made the experience almost unbearable — swirling yellow and black patterns, vibrating geometry, and a strong presence of the medicine itself. It felt as though I might disappear entirely into the movement.

So I kept my eyes open, even though it was difficult. It felt almost as if I was tired and my eyes wanted to stay shut, though I didn’t feel tired, just an extreme sensitivity to light and form. This initial phase is always the most challenging for me. It’s the threshold where surrender must happen, but without collapse.

I can see very clearly how easily someone could be overtaken here if they don’t know how to rest in presence and surrender to the experience.

The others purged early on. I held the medicine for a while, and eventually the intensity eased for me. Roman and I shared some insights and laughter as the energy shifted. Then, suddenly, a second wave arrived — much stronger than the first.

I knew it was time to purge. I could feel the energy rising in me preparing for release. I grabbed my bucket and experienced the most intense purge I’ve ever had. I vomited repeatedly. It was uncomfortable, raw, and deeply relieving at the same time.

And in that moment, I gained a deeper appreciation for the healing power of ayahuasca. I wish I could communicate it in words, but it feels beyond description. Essentially, it feels as though the medicine moves through the body and psyche, locating energetic, emotional, and even physical stagnation, and helping to clear it out. Like a sponge being wrung dry, the system releases what it’s been holding, and in that release there is deep healing and purification — and also a profound awakening of clarity.

So many illnesses — physical, emotional, psychological — are rooted in stagnation. We feel something is off, but we ignore it. We avoid it. We numb ourselves. Over time, that subtle imbalance grows into a festering wound, and dis-ease forms.

Ayahuasca brings consciousness directly to what has been avoided. And when awareness returns, energy can move again. Sometimes gently. Sometimes violently. But almost always honestly.

During the purge, I felt the medicine showing me truths I’ve seen before — but this time without softness. It felt more stern, more direct, like ayahuasca was giving me tough love.

Do you get it yet? How many times will it take?

I saw clearly how I’ve slipped back into forgetfulness. How comfort and familiarity have quietly shaped my choices. How old strategies of numbing and self-protection still linger. And in that moment, some deep clinging and resistance in me finally yielded.

What truly matters is love.
What truly matters is alleviating suffering.
I know this deeply in my heart.

There is so much suffering in the world — and so much unnecessary suffering born from unconsciousness. I see it clearly in ceremony, and I see it in myself.

The truth, and the way to freedom, is so much closer than we think. It is in awareness and our willingness to fully open our heart to our experience, to what is right here right now. Yet most people remain trapped in conditioned patterns, unaware of what’s available to them, closing their heart to life and to themselves, hiding behind comfortable habits and beliefs.

My deepest aspiration is to help transform this suffering in the world, starting with my own. Because when we become clearer channels of love, presence, kindness, and understanding, we affect the world simply by how we show up.

I am reminded of a Ram Dass quote I read recently:

“I've been asked many times whether this is the aquarian age and it's all just beginning, or if this is armageddon and this is the end, and I have to admit I don't know. Whichever way it goes, my work is the same. My work is to quiet my mind and open my heart and relieve suffering wherever I find it

Another realization that crystallized for me is that consciousness is always being directed somewhere.

If we don’t intentionally guide our attention and energy, it will be shaped by habit, conditioning, and unconscious forces. And when that happens, our lives begin to run on autopilot, and we often suffer as a result.

What helps me most is reconnecting with what feels like the highest meaning — the values that orient my life.

For me, that’s love, truth, and service.

When I remember that I’m healing not just for myself, but so I can be of greater benefit to others, I find a different kind of courage. One that’s steadier and less self-centered.

This intention is at the heart of the Mahayana Buddhist path and the Bodhichitta intention — awakening oneself for the benefit of all beings.

So, what do I feel ayahuasca is really about?

It is not an escape.
It is not entertainment.
It is not a shortcut to enlightenment.

Ayahuasca is a mirror.
A purifier.
A teacher of responsibility.

It temporarily dissolves the structures we hide behind and shows us what we’ve been avoiding — in the body, the psyche, and the heart. It reminds us of truth, not so we can chase experiences, but so we can live with greater honesty, humility, and care.

And perhaps most importantly, it shows us that insight alone is not enough.

What matters is how we live afterward.

I’m deeply grateful for this medicine, for Roman, for Paititi Institute, and for this time in Peru. I carry deep respect for the traditions that hold this work, and a renewed sense of responsibility for how I walk forward.

The ceremony ends, but the work continues 🙏