The World Is As You Dream It by John Perkins

Author:John Perkins
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Inner Traditions/Bear & Company
Published: 2011-06-30T00:00:00+00:00

Several months later I returned to Ecuador with another group. That trip turned out to be especially powerful for me, owing in large part to the work I did one night with Kitiar. I believe that what I experienced that night is worth describing; not only does my personal journey provide insight into the ways the shamans work, but—perhaps more important—it shows us how we can alter our dreams to create a more Earth-honoring society, redefine our relationships with the nonmaterial world, and redirect our energies toward a better balance between people and nature.

Four of us had decided to take ayahuasca. While the others ate dinner, we prepared ourselves by drumming and chanting in the lodge where the ceremony would take place. One of us, a young musician, had brought a battery-powered electric guitar that he had had specially made so that it could be disassembled and carried in a backpack. He and the two women had attended my workshops back in the States; a bonding had occurred then, and we now felt privileged to be sharing this night with each other.

Lying in hammocks near the fire, we looked out into the rain forest night. The guitar sang eerie melodies that formed a bridge between the steeland-computer world whence we came and this vine-and-earth one that surrounded us and filled our senses.

I reached over and took Samantha’s hand and felt her hammock swing as she took Lydia’s. Jim’s hands were busy on the guitar. I thought about the parallel worlds I so often discussed, then, realizing the futility of merely thinking about them, felt them intuitively. Those worlds were surrounding me, penetrating me; they were part of me. “All one,” I said.

“Ain’t that the truth,” a woman’s voice responded.

The sound of her words jolted me. I felt a moment’s panic as I realized that I was about to take the vine of death again. I thought about Alice and wondered how many people had died from ayahuasca, or simply not returned. Who needs it? I wondered, then answered the question myself: no one. But I have a job to accomplish. I knew that sharing this ceremony, this plant, with Kitiar would help me. It was worth the risk.

Kitiar arrived. We stood to shake his hand. His energy electrified me. I had not remembered it being so strong. As we returned to the hammocks, he began playing his mouth bow, the tumank. The other participants filtered slowly into the lodge. Kitiar’s music brought magic. The Shuar say it calls in the spirits who are the oneness. I could feel their presence, our presence, in the music, the crackle of the fire, the air, and stars. Kitiar invited Jim’s guitar and my drum to join his tumank.

Then he stopped. The only sounds were those made by the millions of spirits who serenade the forests every night. His chanting began, and one by one, each of us four was called up to take the ayahuasca.

It was thick and bitter. I knew immediately that Kitiar had given me a highly concentrated dose.

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