Four Nights in a Row of Ayahuasca at Rythmia in Costa Rica

Here’s the movie trailer…

Let’s embark on a thrilling and transformative four-night journey with Ayahuasca at Rythmia in Costa Rica! This thing has got it all. From the grueling challenges of purging deep-seated traumas and dark echoes on Night One to the ecstatic connection with tentacled-Octopus surgery, followed by a second surgery by multi-dimensional hyper-intelligent aliens on Night Two.

Nobody expects the Alien Inquisition!

Each night unfolds a unique adventure. And then I experienced the gentle, feminine energy of Ladies’ Night, complete with profound blessings and humorous insights. I dived into the intense final night with Colombian shamans, where purges, divine interventions, and surreal visions merge into a cathartic and enlightening climax. I don’t know if I can communicate the emotional and spiritual rollercoaster filled with healing, humor, and otherworldly encounters that I found quite transcendent, but I will try.

Night #1 – Monday – The Night of a Thousand Tortured Souls in One

This was probably the hardest night I’ve ever had on Ayahuasca. I’ve had three ceremonies with the medicine before this, so while I am hardly the most experienced person in the world, I thought in my naivety it would be a bit easier this time because of my prior medicine adventures. It was a foolish thought indeed.

On my very first night ever, many years ago, I was only able to take one cup the entire night. I couldn’t even bring myself to crawl over to get another. Here at Rythmia, they encouraged us in the classwork to have as many cups of the medicine as we like. In fact, they said in moments of doubt, just go ahead and have more medicine. Sometimes you can get caught in your own head, analyzing what is happening. At those times, they suggest, don’t think. Drink.

It’s kind of like going to a wine-tasting, but instead of delightful varieties of wines to suit a delicate palette and a light buzz of relaxation, there is like one variety of mud mixed with a slurry of insects tinged with a rotten smell of something wet you forgot you left in a bag that doesn’t breathe. Also, it has none of the early “nice” effects of alcohol in that you feel miserable right away. Each sip reminds you of every time you have ever vomited in your life.

In advance I had a few conferences with my higher self, soul council, soul advisor, and intuition (all of which I believe are different facets of the same jewel of me), and I determined throughout the night that my number of cups would be seven. It’s a nice prime number. Smooth. I always see prime numbers as smooth.

For the uninitiated, it is indeed called medicine rather than a drug. Most people don’t get this. Or, they throw it into the same category as all “drugs” and might even think it has addictive qualities. It doesn’t. Addictive molecules have two major aspects that Ayahuasca does not. For one thing, you don’t need “more and more” of it each time to achieve the same “state.” In fact, you need less and less. The other significant aspect is that you don’t suffer any withdrawal after you stop taking it.

And just to touch on one more silly piece of feedback that I notice from the muggles out there – they often question, “Hey Trey, why are you looking for this stuff ‘outside’ of yourself.” It’s as if they think it’s some kind of escape or reaching for something outside of me to satisfy something inside of me. It’s quite the opposite. Ayahuasca is a medicine and tool that gives you full, unfettered access to yourself. It’s a medicine for going inside, not outside.

Before we go on, I fully know that many people that read everything below will be rather dismissive and think, “Oh Trey was just on drugs and was hallucinating.” It always feels great to be immediately invalidated after something like this, he said sarcastically. 😉 However when sharing these stories with the other 35 people here and hearing their own experiences, it’s clear that there is something more profound going on. It is something that is really hard to explain to others. Nevertheless, I’ll try to describe what happened for those who are curious… just be aware things will get quite graphic. Quickly!

Also, if you want to hear about my very first Ayahuasca experience, you may enjoy my podcast at podcasts.treyratcliff.com called Molecules I’ve Ingested.

I started with two cups, then had another two after half an hour. I purged into my bucket of dark echoes but didn’t see many visions. My purging was interesting because it was chunky, like Chef Boyardee consistency, even though I only swallowed liquid. They told me the medicine sucks out pain, trauma, or stress stored in the body, makes it chunky, and you throw it up or poop it out. So it seems my trauma has a lot in common with a can of ravioli.

Maybe if you’re familiar with the book “The Body Keeps the Score,” or other studies in this magisterium, that pain, stress, trauma, and this sort of human experience is physically stored in the body. It can cause everything from mild sickness to excess weight to all sorts of diseases. It’s not simply annoying emotions that repeat in a loop in the monkey-mind.

When I threw up, I started automatically speaking French, casting out some unseen blackness inside me like I was watching a foreign film with a ghost from Gaul. It was violent vomiting that sounded a bit like an angry dragon laying waste to a village. I felt a little better afterward. I had another cup but didn’t have many visions, though I had a funny internal dialogue. So much of my time throughout the next four evenings of the medicine would result in some incredible internal humor where I would be laughing with pure joy as I began to understand more and more and make my own weird internal analogies.

I’ve been reading a book called “Signs: The Secret Language of the Universe,” where you can come up with unique signs that show your ancestors are communicating with you. You can come up with a different sign for each person. I have my own secret signs, although I can reveal one now for the story. My grandad Charlie (my mom’s side) worked on the Alaskan pipeline back in the day, so my sign for him is “Alaska and the Oil/Gas Industry.” Well, sure enough, five minutes before the ceremony, I talked to an older guy named Al. What does he do? He’s from Alaska and works in the gas industry. So, this was a little sign my grandad was indeed there. No need to get into the whole notion of mathematically improbable synchronicities right now, but they happen a lot in my life. A lot.

Well I’ll tell you one more. I was pretty sure this Aya ceremony after a tough few years was a good idea, but I asked for one more sign while I was connecting in Houston airport. I asked for a leopard in an unexpected place. Then, a few hours later when I landed in Costa Rica, I was getting my photo taken at security when checking into Rythmia. Behind the gentleman on the wall was a picture of a leopard. More interestingly, the person in the photo had his right eye covered and could only see out of his left eye. That’s like me, since I am blackout blind in my right eye.

Back to the experience, my intention on day 1 was to have something called a “Consult,” which is a somewhat common phenomenon in Ayahuasca where you can have a conversation with someone or something from the great beyond. I asked for a consultation with my grandad and even one of my favorite authors, Dolores Cannon, but none appeared. I instead spent quite a while imagining a funny imaginary date with Dolores where we went to a drive-in movie theater 40 years ago in Little Rock, Arkansas, and then we went to a diner to get a banana split. She ended up hogging the whole thing and I had to order another one. She also got a to-go box for the banana split, which I thought was a strange thing and didn’t think it would carry very well.

One “good” thing about Ayahuasca is you never have the same “dark stuff” come up multiple times. Once it’s out, it’s out. Of the darkness I had on this night, there was quite a bit of dad stuff, where I saw him as this pathetic creature that was slowly dying as his rotting skin was being slowly flayed from his body. He was lonely and sad and miserable and slowly shriveling into a nihilistic spiral. It was all quite terrible, actually. I didn’t really have any active issues with my dad when he was alive. Sure, he wasn’t exactly the best dad by any measure, but I loved him and was proud of him and vice versa. Anyway, there were clearly a few things to work out there, so I just let them flow, as you let everything flow in Ayahuasca and just allow.

But then I also thought of all the hilarious and funny things my dad would do. In the middle of this solipsistic series of thoughts, I giggled at one thing my dad used to say with a Texas drawl: “Well, I might not be much, but I’m all I can think about.”

Later, I had visions of AI running everything and it being beautiful and simple. Elon was in it and we had achieved AGI. The idea was that everything that humanity has accomplished, warts and all, was in the AI. However, because we were able to work together to create a different sort of species, it created a new version of humanity that was incredibly awesome, kind, and loving. Also, this AI would fix all the problems of the Earth that humanity clearly is not able to solve on its own.

I yawned a lot, which I learned is a form of purging. Some yawns would last many minutes as my neck would just crane upwards to the stars. Then the night turned nihilistic and dark, I had some fun moments though and by the end, I was lethargic. They turned on the lights at 2 a.m., and packing up to go home was difficult. I was exhausted but excited to sleep in a comfy bed with air conditioning. That said, I didn’t sleep much, maybe five minutes.

The next morning breakfast and class started at 8 AM. Normally, I’m quite open and happy, chatty, and going with the flow. But I felt so bad today that I hardly had any interactions. I was just getting through the day, one step at a time. There were a lot of people on struggle street, so I was in good company.

Fortunately I started feeling better and better as the time approached for the next ceremony on Tuesday evening. I was over at the spa, which is my favorite place to go in the day to visit the sauna and the hot tub and the cold dip. I saw one of the lovely teachers there, Lola, and I lamented to her that I had not slept in 48 hours. She was like, “Good. The Mother doesn’t want you to sleep.” That little statement made me feel a lot better.

I was thinking back on the previous few days and even 10 days before the event. Sleeping has been very difficult for me in the lead-up. Maybe 2-3 hours a night? After I get up, I may meditate a little, but I mostly go on long walks and listen to audiobooks. My first few nights at Rythmia pre-ceremonies I averaged 10-15 km an evening. I never felt tired. I was excited and feeling quite switched on.

Oh, here’s a good place to mention my recommended reading list at https://stuckincustoms.com/treys-recommendations/ !

Anyway, I didn’t know what to expect for night two, and everyone has very different experiences. Night one for some people was amazing. They found great joy and had beautiful visions and were in somewhat of a state of ecstasy. It’s a rollercoaster for everyone. Maybe this next night would be a good one indeed. I didn’t have any expectations, but I was going into it with an open mind and trust in the Mother.

Night #2 – Crystal Ecstasy

As usual, these nightly events begin at about 6 PM. They go till 1-3 AM, depending on the flow of the evening.

I get on my mattress. I choose the same one as the previous night by my friend Jim #2. All 35 people here become friends, which is really great. From what I am told, this is a bit of a lighter week, as sometimes there can be up to 90 people here at once.

As you know, I hardly slept. I’ve learned through previous experiences that when you sleep, your soul goes away to frolic and learn elsewhere. Your body has to rest, but your soul never does. Since my soul hasn’t had much chance for interstellar travel, it’s had plenty of time to merge with me again. This is a step they have posted there in the Maloka. Step 1 is to “Show me who I have become,” Step 2 is “Merge back with my soul at all costs,” and Step 3 is “Heal my heart.” Or something like that. One thing I remember is that the typography and fonts on these signs was terrible, and that was a real sticking point for me. The kerning was way off, there was not enough white space around the outside, and, well I could go on and on. Maybe I’ll make a critique video.

I had very little medicine that night. I began by imbibing one small cup, but it was strong. The first hour was rough because I was quite nauseous and mega constipated. I had a huge poop that wouldn’t come out, and nothing seemed to help. I’ve never had so much of what my mom calls sit-down-potty-time. Don’t worry, there is a lot more talk about these harrowing bathroom tales to come. No matter what I tried over the next few days, I just couldn’t get that anaconda out of the back of my Honda.

I had many moments on the toilet when I thought this was my time to leave this mortal coil. Is this how I would expire? I was thinking, jeez, I should eat more fruit. Now I feel like it was a mistake eating those 17 pancakes at breakfast. Isn’t this kind of how Elvis died? Was I sleepwalking and eating peanut butter and banana sandwiches like the King? Dying of an impacted colon did not seem like the Rythmia way, but maybe they don’t really publish all the stats.

After the second cup, I had a huge semi-demonic vomit, releasing black slithering oily cephalopods. How did I pick up these parasites? When they came out, they looked like tiny tentacled creatures, twisting demon-slugs trying to slither back to hell this way and that. I must remember to focus on building my rainbow pyramid of protection light around me.

The rest of the night after the purge was total ecstasy, like MDMA. I danced, smiled, and made jokes. I lay on the grass and danced around crystals, feeling a strong connection to them.

I received an incredible blessing from Chris, one of the shamans for the evening. It was so intense initially that my body shook, and I started to cry. I released a lot of stuff and felt a deep connection with my soul council, who told me they loved me in a feminine chorus voice. If you’ve never gotten a standing ovation from a team of angels, well then I definitely recommend it.

I should elaborate about the arrangements. Every night they bring in different shamans, which is wonderful because you get to see so many styles and traditions, and drinking slightly different medicines with different concoctions. The other reason they do that is so that people don’t become “overly attached” to one shaman or the next because I think that can happen from time to time. It’s really the medicine and you doing the work, not the shaman. They are the guide. I remember when I worked with one of my first shamans. I was so impressed I went up after the event and was really giving him so much thanks and even a bit of praise. He just looked at me calmly and said, “I’m just a rock in the river.” Man, that made him even more awesome!

Back to that personal blessing from Chris, which seemed to go on for quite a while. It was earth-shattering. He used oil on my head and lotion all over my shoulders and torso. I felt incredible. Man, that guy really lotioned me up. I was like a smooth slippery dolphin at a SeaWorld afterparty with experimental orcas. Again, it’s not really the perfect analogy, but I did notice how frictionless he made my blowhole. The shaman told me to go back to my mattress to let the rest of the blessing sink in. It was also a beautiful time. Just me and my blowhole on my mattress.

Later, I talked to my soul council again and received messages of love and support. I danced some more and listened to incredible musicians. Where did they find these two traveling bards? Did these half-elves roll a natural 18 in Charisma? The man had a voice like Michael Jackson and an angel had a baby. There was also a feminine voice which was transcendent, like an elven goddess that drifted into the Maloka from a forest glade. Her voice was a poem I never wanted to end.

And then it came time for some surgery. An event that is rare but usually happens a few times a week, they say, to a handful of people. This visit was from a multi-tentacled octopus-like creature. I could feel the tentacles moving inside of my neck and all the little suction cups and tips of the tentacles moving under my skin and slithering down my torso. It felt great and weird. I completely welcomed him inside. It started to make me wonder if I’m gonna be into tentacle porn next. Why not? It’s good to keep your options open. Later, the shaman told me that this tentacle entity is a common visitor and his name is “Lenny.” I thought it would make more sense if his name was “Squiggy,” a joke that totally fell flat with my shaman.

The only down note was my new friend Jim having a rough night, screaming and beating things. I had formed a close connection with him the first day there as we talked about previous lives, spirit guides, and all other sorts of things that he can see. He also said he found me delightfully triggering! Jim commented that he felt like I could really see him and I still held space with him without any judgment. Just a lot of hugs and hand-holding. It was very sweet and we would just become better friends throughout the week. Actually, everyone loved this Jim guy. He was definitely a crowd-favorite!

Well this was a tough knot and night for Jim indeed, as four of the workers had to carry his mattress out onto the lawn because he was really going through a lot… I wanted to hug him, but didn’t want to interrupt. Also, and I didn’t mention this, but you are not allowed to interact with any of the other guests during the ceremony at all. You can talk to the shamans and the team, of course, but it’s very much a solo adventure.

I finally heard the voice of my Soul Advisor! Because I’ve recently written a book (“Soul’s Compass” to be published very soon) about everything that has happened in the last year of my life after my Near Death Experience where I left the planet for a while to visit the spirit world, I’ve been doing quite a bit of research as to what happened. (Click here to sign up for the newsletter where I’ll let you know when the book is released.)

During my research, through a variety of texts like “Journey of Souls” by Dr. Michael Newton to all the books by Dolores Cannon, I’ve come to know that we all indeed have soul advisors that are there with us all the time, guiding us and loving us. There is no judgment at all, just love. They’ve been with us many lifetimes as we keep returning to the School of Earth to learn lessons for our souls. Anyway, I could go on and on, but as for this night, I was sitting there talking to him. He does usually answer back with a series of different sorts of yawns that mean different things. Yes, I’ve developed a weird and fun communication style with the great beyond. Tonight, I thanked him for getting me through this whole process of the past few years. God he’s so funny… and has a great sense of humor, as I expected. He kind of gave me this thousand-yard-stare and uttered in a dry voice: “It was a process.” I cracked up laughing on my mattress… and I laughed about that all night long. He’s a real joker and together we’ve created some of the craziest challenges in this life. Some of them I pass effortlessly in a heroic manner. Others I fail spectacularly, but in a hilarious way.

Meanwhile the constipation was starting to kick in, and this would become a situation for the next several days. I commented that I needed Giovanni, who was there teaching breathwork, to come into the bathroom with me to breathe through a Lamaze birthing cycle. It was rough in that bathroom, and no matter what I did, I couldn’t loosen the load. I swear to god I did an entire pilates class there. No matter how many moves I did, I began to have more traumatic flashbacks to art class in kindergarten as the Play-Doh just got harder and harder.

Overall, it was a wonderful night. I felt ecstasy and high energy despite not sleeping. I thanked God, my soul advisors, and Source for the amazing experience.

Night #3 – Ladies’ Night

This third night is special because it’s got a focus on the feminine and the shaman team is all women. This is like watching women’s basketball, it’s the same sport as the men’s game but there is an entirely different vibe.

The whole evening has a bit of a softer energy around it. The music is all a bit different too. Although, that’s not saying much because the music is all over the place for all four nights. I often wonder, who the heck comes up with some of the Ayahuasca songs? It’s kind of like if all the crazy people I have dated formed a band.

Towards the end of every ceremony when we all kind of get our act together, we do a little sharing circle. People talk about their experiences, visions, purging, breakthroughs, and this sort of thing. It can be a rather vulnerable time and it’s always fascinating to hear about people’s experiences. Me, I usually talk in detail about all my own crazy experiences during the night, and they are usually full of embarrassing stuff and a lot of rather inappropriate humor so I like to thing people get some unique value from it.

Also, because by this point I’ve been wildly constipated for some reason, I’ve taken to the habit of having a nightly status report, a subject which seems to bring a lot of strange joy to the crowd here. I also explained to them that I often find I am happiest when things are going into and out of my body.

To that point in the thick of the night, I started to think about the human body being a lot like a donut, but just with a much longer donut hole. And you kind of eat stuff with one side of the donut, and then some of the nutrients get absorbed by the sides donut before it eventually goes out the other side of the donut hole. Like many, it’s not the perfect analogy, but these are the sorts of things I think about. Anyway, I went to go see the doctor and he said he needed a blood sample, a urine sample, a semen sample, and a stool sample, and I said, “Oh here just take my underwear.”

Which brings me to another aspect of the venue. They have a little clinic there called the Dead Sea Cleanse where you go twice during the week to spray half the volume of the Dead Sea up into your point of no return. Given my current predicament, I just don’t know how this is gonna work. It’s going to be a battle of wills in there. I’m thinking of that battle scene from The 300 when the Persians tried to break through the Greeks at Thermopylae.

Thinking back, I feel sorry for the poor woman in the clinic. Her name is Maria and she seemed to be impressed when she walked in and I had my ankles behind my head, ready for the treatment. But that first impression may have changed when I ask her if she has any other tools at our disposal. Maybe some forceps? Or is there an OBGYN here? I feel like I need a specialist in my state.

Back to ladies night. Once again, I was in the bathroom wishing our normally cheerful breath coach Giovanni would come in and help me huff and puff through this breach birth and be my stylish midwife, but he really seemed to be keeping his distance from my buttocks. I commented to him that I thought he looked a lot like one of those cool GTA characters that is part of a gang that has both Latinos and Whites in it and is kind of inclusive in a certain way.

In the end this turned out to be another amazing night, although not with as much ecstasy as the previous night. It was mostly tame with just a few down moments. Most of my purging was on the toilet, which I vastly prefer to vomiting. I don’t really mind the vomiting because I get it over with pretty quickly. I was kind of wishing I had one of those Japanese toilets that would hose me off like a depressed circus elephant, but it wasn’t in the cards.

I saw quite a bit of geometry in my visions this evening. These are called “Pintas,” and they were not as strong as others I have seen, but they are still fascinating. Sometimes I think these visions are imprinting certain messages inside of me to be activated later.

I learned a new trick. Or, rather, I remembered a spell/invocation. So much of this process is learning to remember. I think it’s highly possible in previous lives that I knew a great many things, a great many languages, and a great many ways to navigate the universe. As I open my heart more and more to the medicine and the world around me, I remember more.

So, I was sitting there on the toilet, and this was one of my only good experiences in there. I opened my hands skyward and automatically started saying “Receive Receive Receive Receive” over and over and over again in rapid succession. I was thinking, “What the hell is going on?” And then I had a moment of self-doubt where I thought, “Wait a minute, I don’t deserve to receive.” And then I was blasted with a wave of energy that took me to the ground and I started to weep and slobber and cry and snot and I got the message from above, “Yes, you do deserve to receive and you are ready Trey.” And then I heard this message many times while I was crying.

This sudden wave of weeping has hit me many times in the past year or so. It happens whenever I have a big realization about life or a huge download from the universe. It’s such a beautiful time. This and yawning are two of my forms of communication with the great beyond. There are actually a handful of other ways I communicate with them as well, but there is more about that in the book.

I decided to go sit outside and try this invocation again. I sat cross-legged on the grass and opened my hands to begin my Receive Receive Receive technique. Immediately I was hit by a yawning session for the ages. I yawned upwards in a silent howl towards the moon. I yawned so much I thought my jaws would become unhinged like a boa constrictor. Mixed with the yawn was a big smile, which is another indicator for me. Sometimes I yawn to the left, to the right, and with many different combinations, all of which mean different things. Many times, a yawn can be a purge, but in this case, I was receiving information. I don’t know what I was receiving, but it was something for sure. I assume it will be revealed later.

Then, I had an alien intervention and surgery! I had heard about these happening during the ceremony and was hoping it would happen to me as well. After all, who wouldn’t want to obtain the full range of experiences.

These beautiful, multi-dimensional, hyper-intelligent, angular creatures came in. They had a silvery black glow with red eyes, and they weren’t scary at all. I trusted them. They were shiny cobalt metallic with impossible angles, and I thought perhaps they and their alien ships were all part of the same entity. It began to dance and move in a blue ethereal mist, fading in and out of my vision and this dimension. The moves seemed to mesmerize me, to glamor me, to hypnotize me, to seduce me. And then, I cogently invited them in, “Okay Aliens – do your worst!”

And then they began performing alien surgery on me, starting in my mouth as my tongue flew this way and that, flopping around my mouth like one of those weird balloons dancing outside of a used car lot. The shaman later said it was to cure childhood things that are stored in the oral cavity as the teeth come in.

I wanted them to go in and fix my right eye, which became fully blind two years ago. But, instead, they went to do something (perhaps upgrade?) on the left side of my skull. The vibrations and buzzing seemed to be just under the skull and along the non-smooth part of my brain. I was also hoping they would go around and get rid of some of my baby fat and do some alien liposuction, but they didn’t seem to be interested in that either. I was like, I’m a 52-year-old man. I’m not a baby anymore!

After they were done, I was feeling fantastic. I did have a bit of a headache, but I guess that comes with the territory after alien brain surgery. I felt a little greedy and I asked for some more. I received yet another download from my soul team and I slowly lowered my head automatically and received the message three times: “More upgrades will come in time.”

Later, the music was great as my night became more random. At one point, I thought I heard an accordion. That’s a serious piece of equipment to bring to a ceremony, I considered. What if the shaman was actually Weird Al Yankovic – what a reveal that would have been!

Then I heard a pan flute. Did a cloven-hooved satyr gallop in here? Was he out communing with all the frogs who were hearing and craft them from some nearby reeds?

I then went outside and talked to the frogs. There were so many frogs. It was like a plague of frogs, in fact. I had a little communication with them and said, “Frogs, you’re the best!” And then I commented that the word “plague” seemed overkill and that’s just bad marketing from the Bible. I thought about using ChatGPT to rewrite the Bible without the nonsense. As I am thinking all these things, I’m wondering, am I just wasting my Ayahuasca journey on all this silly-thought, or is this what the Mother wants, for me to be a silly person?

After that, I received a hape blast from Diego and meditated, receiving lots of downloads and laughs.

I felt grateful for the otherworldly creatures helping me and received a strong message that it was time to receive gifts for my spiritual hard work.

I had a beautiful night and ended by grounding myself outside on the Earth, and I saw, and I kid you not, a fairy! In the research for my new book, I’ve read well over 500 case studies of past lives and what happens between lives as you prepare for your next mission to Earth. In a few of these, particularly “Horns of the Goddess” by Dolores Cannon, there is a lot of talk about a female druidic culture that could interact with the fae and the creatures that people don’t really think exist. If you are attuned to the right level and at the right vibration, you can indeed see them. I’ve wanted to dance with them my entire life, and I finally saw a little fairy right before the closing ceremony.

She was tiny, about the size of my hand, and she was fluttering in and out of this dimension. The wings were gossamer thin and they glowed with moonlight even in the middle of a black cloudy moonless night. It would move more wild and free and dancey than a butterfly with a sense of lightness and happiness. Sometimes it would alight upon the grass near the hammock and I would take a few steps closer, smiling like a little kid who had found a hidden treasure. It’s also important to note that this late in the night, I was no longer actively feeling the effects of the medicine.

I then got up in the hammock and my friend Jim came out. Thank God he had an amazing night after his previous trainwreck. He sat in the hammock with me and we swung back and forth and talked of little things. He then described his whole process of how he can Astral Project. I listened closely and decided to try it soon. We had some great bonding time together and it’s been really fun to get to know him.

It occurred to me in the life between lives that we all decided to come on this mission to Earth together and meet at certain times and certain locations to teach one another lessons, to test one another, to support one another, and to love one another. After this round is done and we watch the Director’s Cut Netflix Documentary about ourselves, it will be clear the beautiful tapestry into which all of our souls are interwoven.

Night 4 – Yahe Night

Night number four, the big one.

We had a Colombian shaman come down for this final night that begins at 6 p.m. and we ride the vomit comet all the way until 9 a.m. These Colombian cats like to go all the way into the sunrise, which I’m used to from my other Ayahuasca experiences.

I was about to have another amazing night punctuated with the occasional darkness.

I began the night with good intentions. But things went a bit awry. It reminds me of that saying: “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.” I jest a little. It wasn’t really that bad except for one point that I’ll get to.

I know people are very interested in my constipation status report for what is going on three nights of yet another layer on the Cinnabon, but I’ll save that semi-scatological treatise for the end. I did end up invoking the name of Jesus in the ancient pronunciation in the middle of the procedure, issuing forth a “In the name of Yeshua, I cast you out of my holy rectal cave! It has been the proverbial three days, so it is indeed time for you to rise and exit said cave!” It seemed like a strange thing to invoke the name of Jesus in such a situation, but I figured he’s omnipotent and stuff, so why not?

I went into the Maloka, and they placed me in a different spot today. We drank the medicine, and then I kind of went to sleep. Actually, I totally went to sleep and had some very weird dreams. One notable part was encountering my Mexican doppelganger, quite a character with an arched eyebrow and a rather campy slapstick sense of humor. Another part involved incredible music coming from a tiny colorful pyramid I was chasing around inside a bizarre house.

When I woke up, I felt quite sober and went to see Diego, one of the servers. I asked if they called for the second cup while I was asleep, and he answered yes. So, I immediately went up and got more, ending up with two cups in total. As usual, it was nasty and thick. NASTY and THICK. Oh yeah. Ride that nasty and thick pony. I don’t even know what that means.

After I swallowed it and on the way back to the mattress of my potential discontent, I let my body take over. I noticed my arms moving this way and that. I often bounce the palm of my hand off my crown chakra and my fingers automatically snap three times up towards the heavens. It seems to help me keep the medicine down. I also did another strange involuntary maneuver where I put the back of my left hand to my third eye while my fingers spiraled around towards the sky and I made rolling, droning sounds with my mouth. So strange. I just let it happen, though, as I did with many other times my body would take over. Sometimes my voice would take over and I would chant in an unknown language or say things beyond my conscious control.

I went outside and tried my “receive, receive, receive” thing again. It was crazy — I started yawning and smiling up at the moon for about three minutes straight. It was almost a mad-Joker kind of smile layered on top of the biggest yawns of my life.

Later, I went to a table with all these crystals, automatically leaned in, and started yawning again for another two or three minutes. It was weird, but I think I was getting information from the crystals.

I have gotten quite interested in crystals lately, which is quite amazing considering I used to think they were stupid and for limp-wristed self-deluded hippies. I’ve changed my mind. Just like with my chanting, my invocations, my body movements, and more, it’s like I am learning to remember. In other lives I am convinced I knew all about them. I also knew other languages, other musical instruments, other art forms, and a whole host of rich life experiences that perhaps now I am partially unlocking once again.

It was now time for the healing from the team of shamans. There was a row of stools backed by a row of pillows. The men were to go first. Someone took me in and I sat on one of the pillows in the back row. As with most of the night, the room was completely dark. My vision is bad enough, so it’s always a bit of an odyssey to get from point A to point B. I don’t understand why they keep it so dark. Would it kill them to light a candle or two? I can pretty much guarantee that we will all have the same experience, just with slightly less peril.

While I was waiting on my pillow, there were people on either side of me who were totally out of it, vomiting and rolling around. It was wild. These cats were spewing this way and that and I was getting vomit splash damage on both sides. I maintained my zen and sat up straight. I was smiling and kind of dancing around like a happy snake with my upper body. This was just another little silly hilarious test for my patience. They were in such a dark place, and I thought maybe my positive love-energy could help them out a little.

My theory is that they had some weird darkness inside them that was coming out as the healing wave moved through in the row in front of us. The main shaman and his coterie of chanters was cleansing one person to the next with this tidal wave of love in the middle of otherworldly droning and magical words. I think these tortured souls beside me had these little demons lurking about that were feeling this as their internal poltergeists fought back in a fit of rage in the final stages of group exorcism. Their past evils were being visibly and audibly exhumed as the flotsam and jetsam of their mistakes and shame-slammed me from both sides in a wave pool of darkness and I didn’t have any arm floaties.

Even though I stayed positive and full of love, it was rough, like being in Dante’s seventh level of hell with gesticulating decrepit bodies all around me. These guys were literally rolling around and slinging their incredibly sweaty and clammy bodies and limbs all over me. I was trying to think, man, I don’t remember these dudes being quite this clammy. I was thinking that next time, I’m gonna bring three bolts of cloth with me to this part of the ceremony to distribute to these soaking spiritual souls to absorb some of this manly Valdez spillage.

I felt like I was waiting down there for hours in this misery. Was I in the middle of some all-male insane asylum? No offense guys, but I mean, comon my dudes for reals. It was like an all-male orgy with none of the fun sex bits. It was like an MMA cage match with tear-soaked dudes who clearly have a lot of daddy-stuff goin’ on. All daddy stuff without the festive leather straps and interconnecting brass rings and grunting safety words.

I sarcastically was rolling my eyes and thinking, By Grabthar’s Hammer, I wouldn’t miss this for the world. I paid for this. What a gift… What a gift… as the guy to my right was groping into my crossed legs with what could have been a hand or some sausage links he brought to the ceremony. I kind of wish I had my phone so I could plan, “Hey Google, make a calendar appointment to return to Rythmia in… FIFTY YEARS.” Of course I am just kidding, although I wasn’t at that moment. Many people in the class have talked about coming back next year for another ride.

My mind started to wander during this state of limbo. Big surprise. As I sat on my increasingly soggy pillow, I really began to analyze the amazing laundry service here at Rythmia. I mean, God bless those people at the laundry service. How many pillows and blankets does this place have? It’s honestly like loaves and fishes. Right beside Rythmia they must have this Amazon-sized warehouse where they do all the laundry with at least 100 holy washing machines. How many people are on the laundry team and who even chooses that as an occupation? Professional vomit pillow cleaner. What a mess they must have to deal with. I don’t feel like I am THAT messy, but when I go back to my mattress during the ceremony, it looks like five teenagers have been living there for a month. There are like pepperoni pizza stains and all kinds of crust that I can’t figure out where it came from. And of course, they are cleaning my bedroom too. They must be thinking, “Did Trey just have a rough night, or did we stumble into Trey’s Kill Room?” I’m just kidding. I don’t really have a Kill Room.

Finally, I got to the front row for healing, and it took a long time. As they got closer, I felt this incredible bow-wave of fatigue and tiredness, like I was absorbing all the pain and suffering from the people in front of me. I had a violent purge, releasing all this chunky stuff from my stomach. I was really surprised because I didn’t feel like purging the whole night and then that energy just hit me and it was the only way to clear it. And my God, it was so chunky. I was like, man, I don’t remember eating two Sloppy Joes before the ceremony.

After the purge, I received incredible blessings. Chris beat me on the chest with the feathers of healing and nipple exfoliation. The main shaman used all these feathers around my body. It felt like a passing parliament of owls or Shiva with eight arms, each holding a peacock with ADHD. Then it felt like they cracked a coconut on my head and juice went everywhere. I went back to my mattress and let the healing sink in, falling asleep.

I woke up inside on my mattress as the sun was rising. The people beside me were loud, stomping around like elephants. There was no slinky-cat-like-grace on the men’s side of the room. Did you know a group of elephants is called a “Memory” of elephants? How cool is that? Who comes up with these names? Anyway, this was not an memory of elephants rumbling around my side – they were a parade.

It was more than enough to wake me up. I gathered my blanket and pillows to go outside and enjoy the sunrise. All the guys started to laugh and giggle… we all sounded like a bunch of loco hyenas. It was really lovely. I don’t even know what we were all laughing at. It was a combination of the wild and torturous night combined with the relief of a beautiful morning, and the ridiculous duality of these two opposites reminded us of how silly the universe is and how to follow the love and the joy.

The Aftermath

We had another full day and a bit to wind down, rest, and begin the re-integration. While at Rythmia you can get a single room or get some rando roommate. My rando was Tripp.

Tripp was totally new to all of this, in his 50s, and what most would consider to be an extremely conservative person that spends about 0% of his time with this kind of Hippy Healing situation, to give it somewhat of a bombastic category. He arrived with an open mind because nothing else in his life was working that great, but he was still really having trouble fully leaning into it, letting go, and opening up beyond himself.

This is all quite normal of course for most people stuck in the System of the Muggles. The entire week he had yet to have his breakthrough, or what they call a miracle there. Rythmia’s success rate, which they keep track of, is about 92% success rate. I figured Tripp just was going to be one of those unfortunate 8%. All week, he was frustrated. He couldn’t keep the medicine down. One shaman even went so far as to tell him that he wasn’t ready for it to work, which made Tripp even more despondent. Yes, most of my week with Tripp was like having a depressed girlfriend with none of the upside.

However, much to everyone’s surprise, on the last night of breathwork, Tripp had his breakthrough! I was back in the room cleaning up for dinner. I heard him walk in, and he was standing there crying and said, “Trey it finally worked.” Oh it was amazing news and I gave him a giant hug and we cried together for a while. I was so happy for him and this was truly one of the highlights not just of my week, but of everyone’s week. Until then, he wasn’t just my depressed girlfriend, he was all of our depressed girlfriends.

That’s one of the wonderful things about these experiences. You get as much joy and love from hearing other people’s experiences as your own.

As of the time of writing this, I’ve been relaxing, exercising, and meditating here in Costa Rica. Even after the “event” is over, the medicine and the energy continue to work on you. It’s all really been quite wonderful, and, as every time I experience these medicines, I come out on the other side feeling more healthy, more open, more grateful, and more loving. This seems like the best way to be a human this time through the game.

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