DIARY OF A DIY AYAHUASCA FACILITATOR: ENCOUNTERS WITH A CANCER ENTITY.
It’s hard to find true elders in this culture, mostly we have a lot of people who’ve reached an advanced age due to modern medical technology and the elimination of the natural selection process. Radagast however, was a true elder in every sense of the word. We met at an environmental workshop he was running, a brown-eyed, white-bearded, wizened wizard who’d dedicated his life to preserving rainforest around the world. He was a wealth of wisdom, compassion and knowledge and I couldn’t help but feel inspired when I was in his orbit. The boundless energy he put into his environmental karma yoga, despite the obstacles life threw his way, was a deep spiritual lesson that I will carry with me to the end of my days.
The Deep Ecology workshop he was running sought to reconnect individuals to the greater web of life outside of themselves, to help them remember that they were in fact a part of nature, just as much as nature was a part of them. The modern developed world was the story of separation and it was now time to recreate a story of reconnection, before the old story killed us and the many other beings who had the displeasure of sharing the planet with us. The workshop was a deep experience, but I felt that if we really wanted to connect people back to nature on a deeper level, we should drag them blindfolded, out to the rainforest at night for an impromptu mandatory initiation, pour two cups of Ayahuasca down their gullets and leave them to writhe in the puke-sprayed dirt, while the bats chirped icaros that broke their skin apart at the seams until they merged with all of Gaia’s pain at her constant defilement and had no choice but to quit their day jobs and become eco-terrorists dedicated to the complete destruction of the military-industrial-banking-pharmaceutical-prison-dominator-dark-force-matrix machine.
Obviously there were some unknown variables in this plan and probably some violation of consent issues, but hey you can’t blame a freak for dreaming.
After the workshop was over, I told him what I did for a living and his eyes piqued with curiousity.
‘I’ve been looking for something like this!’ He said to me excitedly.
He then informed me that he had a tumour behind one of his eyes that was slowly growing into the back of his brain.
‘Shitty shit shit.’ I replied.
You never quite know what to say to such information, most words sound empty in the face of impending mortality, but I’d felt guided to attend this workshop and now I knew why.
I was to give him the medicine. It seemed like kismet. I’d received a message during a solo Acacia session a few months previous, to start spreading the medicines to environmentalists for free, to help with the healing in that sphere. There seemed to be a lot of wounding in that space, and the Acacia suggested to me that perhaps more effective action could spring from a place of healing, rather than wounding. This particular Australian Acacia I do not want to name publicly, as it’s quite rare, very special and is an incredibly phenomenal inter-dimensional being that seems to specialise in deep spiritual healing among many, many other things and the last time I was in the forest, some dickheads had callously ringbarked some trees.
I’d treated a couple of random environmentalists so far, but most of the environmentalists and organisations that I’d approached offering my free services weren’t into it for reasons unknown. Perhaps like so many of us, they were afraid of healing. Perhaps they looked down upon psychedelic plant medicine as some kind of hippie bullshit that would reduce them down to a bunch of soft-headed, new age circle jerkers that would spend all their time in a cuddle puddle while the Forces of Darkness brought ruin to the world, or even worse, one day made it virtually impossible to find a good latte because the skies were on fire, so the milk always had that horrible burnt taste. Or perhaps finding some strange email in their inbox entitled, ‘FREE AYAHUASCA TO ENVIRONMENTALISTS’ sounded suspicious, like some kind of trap set up by the government. After all, environmentalists were sensitive folks.
Radagast was not hesitant. I was running an Acacia healing circle (working with the aforementioned Acacia) in a fortnight’s time and he leapt at the oppurtunity. I checked with a medical professional friend about possible interactions between the plant medicine and the Western medicine he was taking and after being given the all clear, I confirmed his place.
In the days leading up to the session, I wondered whether what I was doing was a wise thing. Was I too inexperienced to take on someone with such a serious illness? What would happen if he died on me? Well, I guess I would probably have to go to jail and in between avoiding being shanked, finally get around to doing all that hardcore meditation that I told everyone in my medicine circles that I did.
As I prayed at my altar, begging the Light Beings to protect me from being buttraped repeatedly by some criminal with unhealed trauma leaking out of every orifice of his body like priest semen, I thought about Radagast and his cancer. In some African communities, when an individual gets sick, not only do they look into what this means for the individual, but also what this means for the community as a whole. Were the increasing rates of certain diseases amongst the human species a signifier of some deeper imbalance within the collective? Perhaps the increasing rates of cancer could be seen as a microcosmic reflection of what homo sapiens themselves were doing to the planet, slowly consuming to death the very support system that kept it alive. After all, just like cancer, didn’t the capitalist economy rely on infinite growth based on finite resources? Was the rising incidence of heart disease a reflection of a culture disconnected from it’s own emotions, desires and heart callings? And were the increasing rates of depression, anxiety and suicide an indication that living in a materially wealthy, yet spiritually empty society sucked dog’s dicks so hard, it was enough to make a growing number of people blow their brains out all over their IKEA coffee tables? I mean those things were impossible to assemble for any right-brain numbnut like myself.
Just trust the medicine and chill the fuck out. It will all be fine. I heard a voice speak to me.
‘Sure thing voice-inside-my-head!’ I said, sieg heiling my invisible Light Being overlords.
The night before the ceremony, I had a dream that I was on a paddle board, travelling upriver through a beautiful estuary full of wild birds, the soft breeze creating grids of dimples like braille upon the surface of the blue-green and brown water.
Suddenly I saw the dorsal fin of a shark break the surface of the water quite close to me. I nearly fell off my board.
Be cool homie. They can smell fear. I heard a guiding voice speak to me. After regaining my composure, I decided to follow it from a safe distance as it swam upriver, watching it head into one of the many narrowing tributaries, where it promptly got lodged amongst the winding roots of the mangrove trees, that were bordered by banks of soft swamp grass. I got off my paddle board and stepped onto the swamp grass to survey the situation. The shark was trapped and unable to escape the network of mangrove roots that imprisoned it. It was within reach and I wondered whether I should try and grab it by the tail and yank it out, dragging it backwards over a few metres of land, back to the deeper waters where it could hopefully swim back to the ocean, but it was quite large and I guessed it would probably try and bite me when I attempted to free it. Tackling it directly seemed to be an intuitive mistake and such action would only aggravate it, my instincts informed me.
I stood there not knowing what to do for a moment but then had this idea that I should somehow focus on the estuary instead of the shark.
Perhaps if we could get the river channels to widen a little, maybe the beast would eventually leave on it’s own accord. I remember thinking.
Then I woke up.
Lying in bed, I wondered if the dream was just a metaphor for Radagast’s illness, the shark being the tumour and the mangrove-forested estuary being Radagast’s brain. Perhaps I was being guided not attack the growth directly, but instead focus on healing his overall system.
It seemed like a worthy enough idea, as invasive psychic surgery was not my specialty anyway.
We held the medicine circle in the basement of a luxurious Air b and b perched by the edge of a river, an estuary in fact, that coincidentally happened to be bordered by dense mangrove forests. It was a powerful night and the energies were cooking. Prior to the session, due to Radagast’s lifetime of environmental work, I’d petitioned the spirits of the land, of the plants and animals, of Gaia and Spirit to please assist with his healing. I’d also been reading about group intention work, where according to the book, ‘The Power of 8.’ by the Lynne McTaggart, the author had found that when a healing circle comprised of 8 or more people concentrated on a group intention dedicated to someone else’s healing and not their own, they would experience greater results not just for the individual’s healing, but for their own as well, encountering what she termed as ‘The rebound effect.’ I figured trying this exercise while on the medicine might be a bit like prayer on steroids so I thought we may as well give it a shot.
I got impatient with the medicine kicking in, as the brew seemed to have a delayed effect and I ended up taking too much, my eyes bouncing around inside my skull like pinballs, barely able to focus on the playlist on my laptop, the neon letters turning into writhing squiggles and alien heiroglyphs I could barely decipher, let alone catch, as they escaped the confines of the screen. Radagast was having an intense experience, releasing a lot of suppressed emotions, fear, sadness, grief and about a million other things. I’d found that even when the medicine did not directly treat someone’s specific illness, it at least forced them to confront a whole bunch of negative and unprocessed emotions around themselves and their illness that only seemed to retard the natural healing process. After all, who’s immune system could ever work effectively when they were perpetually stressed out as all hell about being sick?
Halfway during the session, I felt this negative presence in the room. I thought nothing of it, thinking it to be a trick of the mind, but after several more minutes of this feeling of dread in my belly, I realised I was in denial and began tuning in, listening in a receptive, open state. After a few moments, I saw it. This weird white-skulled entity, peering down at me from the top left-hand side of the ceiling, just above Radagast. It looked like a wan, gollum-type of creature, white skin tissue dripping off of it’s body like mummy’s bandages, it’s narrow skull streaked with inflamed reddish flesh, as it malevolently scowled down at me with it’s deep black hollows for eyes and puckered sore for a mouth.
It was pissed off.
The spirit of the tumour. I heard the Acacia spirit inform me.
‘What do you want?’ I yelled at it, reaching for some mapacho to clear it, but it just slunk back into the darkness and was gone by the time I’d retrieved my lighter.
I closed the ceremony but stayed with Radagast, trying to do a bit of personal healing work with him. I was guided to do energy work and so with the help of a medicine friend who went by the name of Flooding Heart, we spent some time praying and sending positive energy to him.
Take some of his burden on. I heard the voice of Spirit tell me. I didn’t want to do it, as I was frightened I might pick up on some of Radagast’s illness on an energetic level, but I knew it was a test. Spirit was teaching me about selflessness, not listening to the selfish little voice inside of me always placing myself ahead of others, so after some hesitation, I placed my hand on his chest and forehead, and began to take on some of his energy, breathing in some of his burden and visualising exhaling white, pure energy, in a slightly adapted version of the Tibetan practise known as Tonglen.
I suddenly felt a lot of fear rise up inside of me. I began to see visions of myself dying of cancer. Accelerated visions of the cycle of illness and decay, lying on the operating table, in hospital, on the gurney, in a coffin, in a grave… I started to freak out, thinking that this was a portent of the future, but then quickly realised that this was the thing inside of Radagast trying to mess with me. It seemed like this entity liked to feed off of fear and was trying to stop me from doing any work on it.
I tried my best to stop reacting emotionally to the visions it was sending me, instead concentrating on channelling the energy I was taking on back to Source to be dealt with.
After a while I got the sign that it was enough for now, so I stopped and wound things down.
We can release a lot of the suppressed emotions that are giving this thing it’s energetic food. Focusing directly on it will only give it more energy to feed off. The Acacia spirit informed me.
Don’t kill the shark. Heal the estuary.
A few days later I began to notice that my right eye socket was throbbing a lot. I contacted Radagast and inquired out of curiousity which side had the tumour. It was the right eye socket, he informed me. I entertained that perhaps that I’d picked up on the energetic imprint of Radagast’s illness. This thought kept cycling around my mind and I began to get paranoid. Was I creating some kind of future seed of death inside of me? The more I tried to not think about it, the more I would think about it and the worse the ache became.
This continued for several weeks. I wondered if some cancers began their life as an energetic thing, like an unexpressed negative emotion or constellation of negative emotions, or an unhealthy, repetitive thought pattern such as the one that I was having, seeds planted in an untamed mind, pearls of doom slowly growing into the physical plane from these non-physical dimensions, using all your fears and negative emotions as food for it’s growth.
Four weeks passed and as my eye socket continued to throb, my fears began to increase. Whatever it was, I had to deal with it, though I was unsure as to how to go about it. No one really taught me about this in school. I made a note to lobby my local government official to have the subject, ‘Dark Spirit Extraction’ to be made a compulsory kindegarten subject in the general curriculum.
Then one afternoon, while on a Huachuma (San Pedro cactus) journey through the Blue Mountains National park, just outside of Sydney, the throbbing sensation began to act up again. It was time to face it. I took out my rattle, and while still walking down the narrow trailhead, began shaking it in a repetitive rhythm, going into a trance of sorts. My reality channel shifted slightly to the left and there in front of me, hanging onto my right eye socket was the familiar stained white gollum-like visage of the cancer spirit. I began to vigorously attack it with rattle shakes, swift sharp exhalations known as ‘soplar’, and high-pitched noises that one of my teachers taught me, a practise that he’d dubbed ‘torping’. However each time I did this, I would manage to throw the thing off of me, send it far off into the distance, only to watch it return back to me like a boomerang, clamping back onto my skull once again. To an onlooker, what I was doing probably seemed like the flailings of a crazy person, but after this cycle repeated several times in a row to no avail, I realised I had to change my tact.
I began to talk to it, trying to work out what it wanted. I got the inference that it was something to do with love and recognition, so I started sending the cancer entity love. It’s very difficult to love cancer, but thanks to the Huachuma charging through my heart chakra, I was able to find some level of compassion for it’s wretched, parasitic existence. It’s reaction was quite comical, acquiring a facial expression of surprise and discombobulation, as if it was saying, ‘What is this?’, reminding me of a starving child being given food for the first time in such a long time, that it could no longer remember what food was in the first place, let alone digest it. The love began to soften it, but it’s hold still remained firm. It was after all, a cancer spirit and quite stubborn.
At a loss as to what to do, I suddenly had the idea to call upon one of my spirit helpers to help escort it back to the light. Having been in this particular area many times in the past year, my medicine friends and I had befriended a local land spirit that lived in a nearby cave. We’d developed a relationship with this spirit over the past months and his name he’d told us was, ‘Mick’ — although we didn’t necessarily believe him as he was quite the trickster, enjoying messing with us, always wanting tobacco off of us and encouraging us to do stupid things.
One time I asked him what he was exactly and after blowing him a tremendous amount of haape that made him dance like an epileptic marionette puppet, he informed me that he was an accretion of energy that had collected around that particular geological formation, over thousands of years, eventually gaining sentience. Some pieces of land had a form of consciousness and individuated spirits like Mick were merely expressions of that energy for that particular area, honed to a focalised point.
Then he tried to convince me to throw my shoes off the cliff with the promise of a reward. I nearly did, but at the last moment worked out it was a prank and so stopped myself just as I was unlacing my boots.
Or maybe I was just losing my mind.
Either way, I began calling upon Mick to come help escort the cancer spirit back into the light. It didn’t take long for his comical, jocular form to appear in my field of vision, and I watched as he gently took the cancer spirit by the arm and began to talk to him for a while. I’m not sure what he was saying to it, but he seemed to be persuading it to follow him into the light, convincing it that where it was being taken was much more enjoyable than where it was right now, hanging onto the right-hand side of my skull like some annoying kid brother that wouldn’t go away, and whom might try to kill you while you slept.
I watched as they both moved towards the light suspended somewhere between this world and the next, the cancer spirit looking confused and small as it headed back to the light, turning around one last time to look back at me, the perplexed expression on it’s face slowly dissolving into the white light that eclipsed it’s dwindling form.
After that the throbbing disappeared and never came back.
As for Radagast’s healing, I don’t want to jinx any of the results by blathering on about it in too much detail, but let’s just say after a few sessions, he’s still doing the work that he was sent here to do.
LESSON: CLEAN YOURSELF ENERGETICALLY AFTER DOING WORK WITH PEOPLE OR YOU MAY CATCH ENERGETIC IMPRINTS OF THEIR ILLNESS FROM THEM AND HAVE TO SHAKE A RATTLE AND MAKE WEIRD SHRIEKING NOISES AT SOME WEIRD ENTITY THING ATTACHED TO YOUR FACE ONE DAY.
LESSON: GROUP INTENTIONAL HEALING FOR INDIVIDUALS IS A VERY USEFUL THING TO EXPLORE.
LESSON: SOMETIMES TACKLING CERTAIN ILLNESSES DIRECTLY MAY ONLY AGGRAVATE THEM FURTHER AND PERHAPS A MORE HOLISTIC APPROACH IS MORE BENEFICIAL.
SUGGESTION: PEOPLE WHO DO ENVIRONMENTAL WORK SHOULD BE ALLOWED MEDICINE SESSIONS FOR FREE OR BY DONATION.
If you enjoyed reading this, you can join my Patreon account for just $2 a month and get more stuff that I can’t release due to personal and legal reasons. I’m currently living in a shipping container in remote Northern Australia, attempting to compile a book about my self-initiatory process through the world of psychedelic medicines and my time in the field as a DIY facilitator.
Follow me on facebook.