The early training of the shaman not only addresses the mastery of fear and of one's past, but then to conquer humankind's most primal fear--that of personal annihilation, of death. Shamanic traditions hold that in order to become a "container for spirit," the aspirant must first seal the leaks--to heal the hurts, to master the fears--that stand between him/her and the Loving Embrace.

Art Roffey is a licensed psychologist and certified hypnotherapist who holds dual doctorate degrees in Counseling Psychology and Divinity. He and his wife, Gail, make annual trips to Peru to train with the Q'ero medicine persons who have bestowed their highest rites of passage upon them.

The following account is from Art Roffey's journal, chronicling a particularly intense experience in Peru, an inner journey under the guidance of jungle shaman don Ignacio.

While some shamans use sound (such as drums and rattles) or other rituals to initiate a journey, don Ignacio and the Roffeys employed a hallucinogen not commonly available in North America. To use it, one must have the expertise of a shaman guide extraordinarily well-versed in directing experiences of consciousness outside of the physical body. Without that guidance, one will become confused and frightened and lost.

Part One (of Three)

"If you really loved me, you'd tell me not to do this!" my wife, Gail, proclaimed as she lay on the hammock. I glanced over, thinking that she was joking, but the tears streaming down her face indicated otherwise. She was frightened. We had been traveling over twenty-four hours from Detroit to this lodge along the Tambopata River, a tributary of the Amazon, deep within the Peruvian Rainforest. I understood her fear, for the "butterflies" in my stomach indicated that I was on edge as well. In less than a half hour we were to begin a ceremony that would possibly take us into the Land Beyond Death, guided by a man who spoke no English; a man whom we had met only a few hours earlier. "It is because I love you that I wouldn't profess to tell you what to do or what not to do," I replied with a glint in my eye, trying to disguise my own trepidation. Gail failed to notice that I was trying to lighten the moment. The tiredness and the tension were now fully streaming down her cheeks; her hands were shaking.

"Why are we doing this, anyway?" I asked myself. But I knew the answer. This trip, to work with the well-known jungle shaman, don Ignacio, would likely be an integral part of our training in shamanism. The authority of the shaman, it is said, comes out of a personal experience of the unseen. "The shaman knows the spirit realm and how to get back," my mentor once said to me. "Doing so involves healing and shedding energy blockages within our Luminous Body. We must transform and reconfigure our inner circuitry so that old patterns of pain and imbalance can be shed. We seek to become consciously aware of our Luminous Body which has the consciousness of Gaia (the Earth), of the Stars, of the Universe; it is of the essence of God." It was in pursuit of this perception and wisdom that Gail and I made this trip to the jungles in the company of our guide and friend, Pepé.

Gail and I first met don Ignacio as our motorized canoe traveling down the Tambopata River pulled to a stop along the banks adjoining a small village with the unwelcoming name of Inferno. Here we picked up an unassuming man in his late sixties, dressed in torn brown pants and a dirty blue, short-sleeved shirt. Though slight of build and quiet in demeanor, don Ignacio possessed an understated power as evidenced by his penetrating eyes and an economy of movement. He was carrying a couple of plastic bags along with two containers filled with a brown liquid. When I saw the ayahuasca I knew that this was the man with whom I would be entrusting my body and spirit as I sought passage into the non-ordinary realms of magic and, hopefully, wisdom. He is a man who lives in two worlds; honored and feared in his community because of his familiarity with, and ability to navigate in, the next realm. He is an ayahuasca shaman, or ayahuascaro, a man who possesses an intimate familiarity and kindredness with the elemental energies of the Vine of Death, ayahuasca. He is a man said to bring healing and facilitate visions into the spirit realms.

I asked my guide, Pepé, why don Ignacio's village was called Inferno. He said that the Spanish found the area so infested with malaria-carrying mosquitoes, and the climate so hot and muggy, that for them it was a hell. I imagined what it must have been like to hack through the thick jungles wearing armor, in lands so far from home. The conquistadors must also have found the local residents to be quite threatening--steeped as they were in shamanic traditions and so familiar and comfortable in lands which, to the Spanish, was so god-forsaken. For the conquistadors came to conquer, to obtain quick riches, whereas the thick canopies of the jungle stretched on endlessly, thwarting them at every step along the way. The din of the sounds of nature were deafening; the canopy of the jungle induces claustrophobia; the humidity, oppressive; and the attacks of the mosquito, unrelenting.

Don Ignacio is the embodiment of the wisdom of the jungle. He knows the plants which heal, and those which can bring harm. And he knows their songs; he can summon their power. He is also the stuff of legend. We were told by one of our guides, Clair, that one day some local villagers were hunting in the jungle and they came upon a deer. They aimed their rifles and fired . . . a direct hit! Yet, at that instant, the deer vanished into thin air. No body was ever found. Shortly thereafter, upon returning to their village, don Ignacio was found to be suffering from an unexplained gunshot to his abdomen. It took him three months to recover. How he sustained his wound was never explained. Clair, a pragmatist not easily given to ungrounded superstition, nevertheless kept a healthy distance from don Ignacio; she seemed to regard him with a mixture of awe, respect and uncertainty.

The Maestro at Work

It is said that one must fashion a strong intent which will help bring cohesiveness and solidarity to the ayahuasca visions. Elsewise one can become lost, confused and frightened. The first stage of the journey can be wildly hallucinatory--brought on by one of the component chemicals of the substance, di-methyltryptoline (DMT). This stage of the journey may last several hours and can range from being profoundly beautiful to dangerously frightening. One's focused intent and constant reminders of the purpose of the journey is what makes all the difference--either the plant will overwhelm or it will facilitate.

The ayahuascaro, or Maestro, as he is respectfully called, also plays a pivotal role in the experience. He ingests the bitter tasting, foul smelling liquid along with all ceremony participants. Indeed, the Maestro's work begins long before the ceremonial participants gather. The ayahuasca vine must be located deep within the jungle and prepared with reverence and love by mixing it with other jungle plants to potentiate its effects. Just which plants are added depends upon the plants indigenous to the region, the training of the ayahuascaro and, I assume, the experience of those participating in the ceremony. Some shamans will add extracts from highly toxic plants (such as Datura) which elicits massive cleansing and purging, both through vomiting and diarrhea. It is said that the act of cleansing both prepares one for, and potentiates, the visions which follow. Don Ignacio, however, prepared a very gentle blend of ayahuasca and four other plants, none of which were strong purgatives. It had taken him ten hours to slowly boil down the concoction to create a concentrated potion. As he did so, he ceremonially sang the plants' songs to invoke their power and their blessings.

It took approximately thirty minutes before the I sensed subtle changes in my perceptions, attributable to the ayahuasca. During this time the room was illuminated by candlelight and we engaged in light conversation with one another and with the Maestro through the translating abilities of Pepé. All of us were a bit nervous as this was our "virgin flight." We anticipated what would come, yet we did not know.

Once we began to experience a dreamy state, don Ignacio extinguished the candle. He sat in complete darkness with the exception of the loving light from above piercing through the screens of the hut: Mama Chia (Mother Moon) and the Chaska (stars). Deep in the heart of the jungles, far from the lights of the city, the sky is a velvety black. Trillions of stars and the entire Milky Way are perfectly visible, peeping through the otherwise darkened heavens. Accompanying this light show are the many, many sounds of nocturnal life. Without letup, the rainforest hums, croaks, chirps and howls with life. The jungle was comfortably warm in the evening, through as the ayahuasca began to weave its way within my system, I began to sense a chill in my extremities. Don Ignacio sat with absolute stillness. More waiting . . .

As I drifted further and further into the Dreamtime, admittedly forgetting my intent . . . faint at first, but with growing distinctiveness, I heard a rhythmic rustling. The Maestro was at work; his "rattle" consisted of the stem and leaves of the Sanganga palm which he shook with deft precision, calling us back to the moment. Over the course of the next three days he exhibited an uncanny ability to intuit our needs and to guide us on our journey. He did so with his palm rattle, with his breath, with smoke, with a melodic whistling and with his song.

Don Ignacio's songs are the plant's gift to him (and, by extension, to us). They are the outcome of many, many years of training and experience with the plant and attendance at over 1,000 ayahuasca ceremonies. A few of his songs contained words in his own language, but most were "vocables"--melodies with no words. These songs were not merely background music to create atmosphere. They direct and guide the soul through the regions beyond death. They are used to summon the spirit to move forward, past fear and the unknown. And they are used to pierce through the darkness and the void which may entrap the fragile spirit in unfamiliar realms. The song pierces through the portals of death, coaxing and luring with beauty and sweetness as the hummingbird is drawn to nectar, as the moth is attracted to the flame.

The second stage of the spirit journey is influenced by the second major chemical constituent of the ayahuasca brew--harmoline. Harmoline, in contrast to DMT, promotes a softer, less hallucinatory and more visionary experience. The DMT-induced portion of the journey tends to induce a confrontation with one's fears and a sense of physical death and perceptual dismemberment from life as we have known and lived it. Harmoline-influenced visions offer the opportunity for profound spiritual experience. As you are no longer bound to the body (which is often viewed at this stage as an empty shell), your awareness is available for transcendence. Just as the serpent sheds its skin and moves forward as a transformed creature, this is an opportunity to follow the luminous threads of your intent to their fullest completion. Don Ignacio demonstrated his mastery of the journey during this phase as well. His songs moved me from one plateau to another--each feeling as if it was the ultimate transcendent experience of which I was capable of holding--to yet a fuller and more profound embrace of the sacred.

At Death's Door

Pepé, Gail, and I held ceremony with don Ignacio on three successive nights. This was in keeping with the traditional training of the shaman. The first night acquaints one with the nature of this particular ayahuasca brew--it brings familiarity and confidence in the ayahuascaro, in one's self, and in the safety of the ceremonial space. The second night brings greater familiarity with entry into the Non-Ordinary World. By now one is very acquainted with the necessity for clear intent, of the proper dosing, and of the effects of the substance on one's physical body. The songs are now old friends which rekindle feelings of safety and bring assurance that it is possible to penetrate veils to perception. By the third evening, old familiar self-definitions have fallen away. In my experience there was a ready willingness to be open to whatever came before me. I could observe even my most grandiose fears and death itself with equanimity, without engagement. I yielded will, while still claiming intent. I was open to whatever destiny placed before me.

Each evening had a theme. My first journey into Dreamtime had to do with releasing expectations. I had spent years in shamanic training to prepare for this experience and six months of intense dietary and physical preparation. My anticipation was that I would have a profound experience right away. I yearned to enter into the Spirit World for a variety of reasons: curiosity (not the most notable of my motives, but nevertheless present); a sincere desire to directly experience subtle reality rather than merely having faith in it; as an assistance in my healing work; and as a loving outreach to the Infinite. Instead, the best I was able to accomplish this evening was to sit on the dark side of the portal to light, longing for what lay on the other side. Eventually my thoughts turned to doubts. I had very few visions, and was the first in my group to become "sober." Had I traveled so far only for this? Was I so rigid that even the Vine of Death was not up to the task of promoting insight and heightened awareness within me? Or was the use of a hallucinogen only a distraction from my chosen path of meditation and service?

Watch for Parts Two and Three in February and March.

Dr. Roffey is the Director of Innervision, P.C., 5640 W. Maple, Suite 205, West Bloomfield, MI 48322-3718. Innervision's phone number is (248) 865-9416; fax (248) 865-9509.

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