Ayahuasca: A Journey Beyond Time and Self As the first cup of ayahuasca settled in, the vibrations of the jungle came alive, merging with the rhythmic chants of the shaman. The sounds weren’t just external; they resonated within me, weaving into the very fabric of my being. I was no longer separate from the world around me—I became the sound, the vibration, the energy. With my eyes closed, reality dissolved. Time ceased to exist. My body felt weightless, as if I had been untethered from all earthly constraints. I floated, not just through space, but through something greater—an infinite, timeless existence. It was not a dream nor a hallucination, but a state more real than anything I had ever known. Visions emerged. A snake slithered through the cosmic abyss, its movements fluid and wise, as if it had always known the secrets of the universe. It did not threaten; it guided. A tiger followed, its presence powerful, fearless, yet protective—a reminder of the strength I held within. And in the vastness of the unknown, a whale appeared, moving gracefully through a celestial ocean. It felt ancient, omniscient, as if carrying the wisdom of a thousand lifetimes. There was no fear, no past traumas surfacing to be confronted. Instead, I surrendered. Every time a darker path beckoned, I realigned, remembering why I had come. To receive, not to resist. To let Mother Ayahuasca give me what I needed, not what I wanted. The shaman’s voice was more than sound—it was magic, an energy that held me, protected me, and orchestrated the very rhythm of my experience. The icaro songs were not just melodies but portals, guiding me deeper into the unknown. Without them, I cannot imagine how my journey would have unfolded. As the medicine took hold, my body waged its own battle. Waves of nausea, the urge to purge, the complete surrender of control over my body’s functions. I felt as if I could dissolve completely, yet I trusted the process. Even in discomfort, I was at peace. Opening my eyes, I glimpsed the shaman moving through the room, his presence grounding and mystical. It felt as if he could read my thoughts, my emotions, my very state of being, knowing exactly where I was in the journey. Every motion, every sound, every phase of my experience felt planned, orchestrated—not by chance, but by some unseen cosmic intelligence. The jungle outside was alive, not just in sound but in spirit. The frogs, the birds, the insects—they were not simply background noise but an essential part of the ceremony, each voice contributing to a grand, celestial symphony. The Amazon at night was pure magic. As the ceremony neared its end, I felt a shift—a return to clarity, but not to the same reality I once knew. The world had changed. Or perhaps, I had changed. A deep sense of peace, tranquility, and interconnectedness settled within me. My perception of sound, time, and life itself would never be the same. I no longer saw myself as just one being in a chaotic world. I was the world. I was life itself. Now, as I return to the city, I carry this experience within me. The jungle still calls, and I know—I will return. Not just to visit, but to truly live.