Whispers in the Jungle - My Ayahuasca Journey with the Huni Kuin
My journey with Ayahuasca began long ago, but the chapter I’m sharing today unfolds deep in the heart of the Amazon, alongside the sacred and wise Huni Kuin tribe.
This tribe, with their deep ancestral relationship to the medicine they call Nishipa (Ayahuasca), welcomed us with grace and reverence. Their connection to the spirit of Ayahuasca felt ancient, and I was humbled to be in their presence.
The day began before the sun even dared to rise. At 4 a.m., the jungle still cloaked in darkness, we gathered to begin the sacred process of brewing the medicine. As an offering of connection, we were each given our first microdose, a sip to begin aligning with the spirit of the vine.
With hands in water and hearts open, we spent hours washing each chacruna leaf and carefully stripping the bark from towering piles of the becappi vine. The medicine worked through us as we worked for it. When the second microdose came, I was determined to hold it, but Mama Aya had other plans. I purged just as quickly. Then came a third cup, and despite everything leaving my system as fast as it entered, I welcomed it again.
By this point, I was in full flow with the task at hand, until I encountered a particularly stubborn vine. Its shape curled into a U with a heavy knot on one end and a shredded tail on the other. I told myself, “Just finish this one and then I’ll head to my hammock.” But again… Mama had other plans.
Suddenly, I felt an irresistible pull. I announced aloud, “Mama Aya and I are going to take a break,” and tucked myself away in the safety of my hammock cocoon.
This was when I understood why traditional ceremonies are held at night, with intentional silence, medicine music, and spiritual guidance. Here I was: midday, surrounded by casual conversation,sunshine, and the rustle of jungle life.
With my scarf wrapped tightly over my eyes and the hammock’s fabric pulled close, I shut out the outer world. That’s when the visions came. Vivid, wild, and ancient. Downloads. Confirmations. Divine messages pouring in like a waterfall.
My body melted away. I forgot I had a name, a job, a “life.” The identity I had always known felt like a distant friend, appreciated but no longer central. For a moment, I panicked, the feeling of “losing myself” shook me. But instead of clinging to the known, I surrendered.
And that… that’s when the magic happened.
My jaw clicked, audibly, mechanically, and I immediately understood: this was spiritual surgery. I had heard whispers of this phenomenon in medicine circles, but never imagined I would experience it. As my jaw energetically detached, I was ushered into a more claircognizant state. I was shown a sacred place, a grove holding the energy of Grandmother Willow from Pocahontas, or perhaps the Tree of Knowledge itself.
Here, I was gifted knowings, truths too vast for words, more felt than spoken. They were woven into me without language.
As the medicine continued its sacred work, the outside world crept back in. I became aware of someone behind my hammock, a presence I was sure was my sister. The crinkling of a snack bag and the primal tearing of freeze-dried mango echoed through my heightened senses, comically amplified by the medicine. Another reminder of why we create sacred silence in ceremony.
And then, snap.
My jaw clicked back into place. The surgery was complete.
What followed defies logic: my mouth opened on its own, and a vibration rose from the center of my tongue. I began to whisper, a language I didn’t recognize, something serpentine and sacred, almost like Parseltongue from Harry Potter. I whispered, knowing my sister was nearby, not wanting to startle her or invite small talk. It was the whisper of tongues, of spirit.
Afterward, I drifted into realms of oneness, connection, and cosmic calm. A surprise deep journey on what was meant to be a microdose.
The integration from this experience? That’s a story for another day.
