One failure made me cocky. The real thing was hard

Participating in an ayahuasca ceremony can be an act of curiosity in the first place; generally, it is. In my case, a friend invited me to a temple, and I accepted out of curiosity. I heard a lot about beautiful experiences, people learning about themselves and undergoing deep processes of transformation after taking the tea just once. I was excited.

She took me to a Santo Daime temple. This place had a huge, beautiful garden. Someone there told me that volunteers did all the gardening. Voluntary work. When it was time for the ritual, two different doors were opened. They led me to the "door for the women." Inside the room, there was a stripe splitting the space into two: one side there were only men and on the other only women. Each gendered space was also divided: the front was the space for the members (all wearing white uniforms, the women in white dresses and crowns made with the flowers from the garden), and the back was for people invited for the first time. Me included. I felt something was wrong, like I was entering some kind of dangerous space. Why were men and women separated?

They invited us to take the ayahuasca. I took my first round. After that, the music started. Basically, the same rhythm. The lyrics were always about Jesus in some way, sometimes mixed with nature and other magical beings from the forest. The men sang, the women danced, nonstop. I think I was there watching all this for more than an hour when the person in charge asked if anyone wanted more tea. I went to the line and took one more cup. Came back to my place and started to see some of the guests crying, speaking out loud, dancing, and mimicking the members. I was feeling 100% normal. One hour later, they invited me for the third dose. After that, I gave up, realizing the tea had nothing to say to me. I spent almost four hours trying to "get into the mood," but nothing happened. I went home very frustrated.

Almost two years later, a close friend told me she was starting her ayahuasca journey. I told her about my non-experience. She said, "Well, I could invite you to try again..." I said YES in a blink. Two weeks later, I was going to a small city near Brasília. I prepared the way they instructed me; I was happy for the opportunity, but I confess I was a bit cynical. I have this thing that I was the only person in a hypnosis show who could not be hypnotized, you know? I was certain that the problem was with me, with my brain.

When I arrived, I understood how different this new experience would be: The ceremony would be held in a small house with a backyard. Someone's house. The group had maybe 11 or 12 people. They seemed very close and welcomed me as an old friend. They instructed me to take a blanket and some pillows. They were very handy! It was cold (by Brazilian standards), and they accommodated us all in the garden. No separations, no artificial organization, no uniforms, no visual or physical barriers. You could say that we were there for a barbecue and to play guitar by the fire. Just a happy diverse group.

The master presented the theme of that ritual (Celtic culture) and started to tell stories about gods and goddesses, magik and nature. I was a Wiccan teen, so I felt at home! Shortly, he invited us to take the ayahuasca. All the people were served first; after we all raised our cups, the master gave a blessing, and we drank together. I took a place by the grass and waited, patiently (or not...). One hour passed. I was frustrated again. Imagining spending the whole night without any special feeling.

Then, the master came to me and asked, "irmã, tá na Burracheira?" (Sister, are you into Burracheira?) and I said no. He touched my forehead with his finger. I felt a big push. Like a sling; something went out of me and came back for a second. And I closed my eyes. My world changed in that moment. It felt both big and connected with everything that exists, and also small, nanoscopic, personal, and specific. I encountered my great-grandma that night. She hugged me. When she was alive, she never hugged me. That night, I understood why. She showed me her suffering and the suffering of all the women before her. My family, who starved, was bitten, violated, and had children without wanting them. I also spoke with my grandma; we talked about becoming crazy. Or to be seen as crazy. I was afraid to become crazy. She told me that it was a real risk.

I cannot say how many times I cried. I felt so much pain from them inside me. But I remember when a young woman started to sing a song about nossa senhora (our lady, notre-dame), who is very important in Brazilian spirituality, for many people much more than Jesus. I felt the lady beside me.

I cried that much because I could see my ancestry imprinted in me. I understood so much that night. I was ready to make so many changes.

In six months, I changed a lot. I started therapy (for the first time!) I expelled toxic people from my life, people who were there hurting me for a long time. I stopped acting like a toxic man in my relationships and started to be more sensitive to the other's people feelings. I don't know if ayahuasca (the experience itself) changed me, but the act of taking it and the possibility of being open to a world bigger (and smaller) than the one I was living in was transformative. Facing pain and suffering is not easy, and you have to be brave to live the real thing. The face you see under ayahuasca influence is yours, without any masks. Take a moment to understand if you want to see it.