Ayahuasca journey :
a unique ayahuasca journey, in a spiritual gathering
"I recall one blessed gathering to which my twin soul and I had been invited, where an assortment of free individuals gathered to share spirit, song, ayahuasca, and healing.
As much as I had been filled with awe and admiration for my time spent with the group of musicians in Dharamsala, which I described earlier, that impromptu event in India had been but a trickling stream compared to the gushing river of life which poured this night through these people who had long ago turned away from convention and respectability, and had turned instead towards the earth, God, and their own eternal selves.
The evening was hosted by a man in his late thirties who had lived in remote valleys on Kauai for many years, had prayed and asked for guidance, and eventually had been led to the Big Island where he slowly built a life for himself out of cinders and lava, and at the same time he had created an invisible umbrella of spirit under which the community now gathered like a forgotten tribe who had not forgotten God’s home.
To describe even a fragment of the characters attending the event would be to digress endlessly into the sacred precincts of three-score hallowed souls, for it seemed to me that I had come upon one of those anachronistic occurrences written of only in mythological or ancient tomes, because the entire collection of our spirits were released from our separative confinements by the medicine- as ayahuasca is called in the shaman’s world- and we were then gathered up as one, into another realm, via the ecstatic music of numerous Sufi bards. For in attendance that night were a number of young men and women who had been called early in life to go to India, live in caves and with sadhus, and then take up as their spiritual vocation the art of the Sufi song. And boy could they sing. Let me tell you, I was in awe and gratitude while experiencing the overwhelming passion, grace, commitment, and talent I felt in this family of perhaps six men and six women, all sporting gigantic dreadlocks, heavenly countenances, and lithe bodies covered in flowing robes. And their music …their music was rapture itself. The songs went on into the early hours, and all souls danced in the unmoving ether, through the rapt presence of all who were one.
I had found a community to which I finally could belong. And yet, as is the way of surrender, I was soon being told in a number of dreams, that yes, these people were great spirits, and great souls, filled with immense faith, love, and service, and, yes, I would find myself drawn to these folks, and would accept and be accepted by them, and, no, it was not yet the place for me to stay. I was being told to live and love amongst them, and then to go another way.
It was the necessary repetition of this message, in a number of dreams, which helped me realize that though I cherished this opportunity to live in such a brilliant place filled with kindred spirits, there was yet another chosen spot up ahead for me, and were I to stay here I would surely find peace, freedom, harmony, and joy, but I would not fulfill my life’s most perfect goal.
Following the spirit as such, over a number of years, I had finally come to learn one of the most important lessons of all- how to give myself completely to a situation, and how to let it go; how to invest my whole being into whatever lay before me, and then, to know when the shift was complete, to divest myself, to hug the ones I loved, to say goodbye, and then move on to other fertile ground. I had to learn to die only because it led to more life. I had to learn to let go only so that I could further receive. I had to learn to say goodbye, because only then could I say hello.
And though I know now where I am directed to go, I know not what lies there, but this, after all, is no longer a necessity for me. I say, let my Christ self be my inspirer, and I shall wander on.
For throughout the earlier dementia of my unbecoming, I had lost sight of the hard won reunion, and hid behind the shield of trivial whims, as life fell not loosely about me, but clung fast in wanton, false division. I had betrayed my sacred non-understanding by embracing a profane understanding. But now I had only the mystified acknowledgement of a stupendous, debilitating obviousness: awe and acceptance were the only responses I had left for being. For though mine was a distorted illumination; like the blinding light of the sun, bouncing off the lightless, light-giving moon, I did still rise up in the night of existence, and shine forth despite my subliminal darkness.
Ah, blessed be Thy entanglements which complete me, for it is Life’s hand which moves me along, and I am but a reed in the flute of the infinite heart, a song of the generous voice which sings, and a dream of the fabulous Dreamer.
Divine orgy, profane delight. Fiddler, I am your fiddle."
Books by Jack Haas
to see more about the books, click on the image.