Moments of Mystical Self Surrender

The subtle shifts that charted a new course, offering the gift of space and time for healing.

I had been holding space, and hosting an extended stay private retreat for a couple, preparing to give of myself in service for another week. But in an unexpected twist, the gift was given to me.

After a beauty-full week, the couple were called home early by an opportunity they couldn’t refuse. We embraced at the airport, and I watched them depart. As I drove back into the jungle valley, toward the private cabin that has been my sanctuary, I realized—the rest of the week was now mine.

A retreat meant for them had become an invitation for me.

Instead of holding space, I was being held.

Instead of guiding, I was being guided.

Instead of giving, I was being given the time, the solitude, the medicine.

The truth of it washed over me. I broke down, overcome with gratitude, my heart swelling with the love that surrounded me. I was meant to be here—alone, in this space that feels like home, cradled by the quiet call of Ayahuasca.

It was my turn.

I knew it would be only a short day and a long night between us—me and the tea, meeting once more as winter solstice neared. Time passed as it always does, perfectly, and the hour of our connection arrived as though it had been here all along. With gentle whispers and prayers, I held my cup in both hand and heart, my intentions drifting into the unseen spaces that connect us. My requests moved through the invisible air, carried to wherever healing and truth reside, calling forth the wisdom this benevolent spirit so graciously shares.

There was no rigid preparation, only an easeful arrival. A warm shower to cleanse the salt from my skin before stepping into the unknown. I chanted softly—I am...—a mantra to guide my mind to the present, as my body had already arrived. Then, as if to ensure my presence, the water abruptly turned cold. A brisk and undeniable call to here, now. I gasped, then laughed, thanking her for the sudden plunge into full awareness. Later, I would discover the anomaly—the propane-heated system should have provided endless hot water. But in that moment, it was simply her way of calling me to attention.

Wrapped in soft fabric chosen for the journey, I settled into stillness. Holding her once more before taking my first sip, I spoke my truth aloud. Then, with gentle, loving kindness, she began—pungent, sweet, powerful.

I felt her presence move through me, filling every cell, every corner of my being. And in an instant, she entered my mind, my memories, my story—stitching together the experience that it must be to be me.

Her entrance was subtle, nearly imperceptible. I found myself in a vast silence, untouched by sound or light, a space entirely at peace. It took a moment to recognize it—a cave. My cave. A place of deep quiet, where I simply was. The observer. For the first time, I experienced a stillness so profound, a separation so clear: I am here, and my thoughts are out there.

Sensing my entire presence within this sacred cave, I was free—free of distraction, of noise, of the endless cycling of thoughts. And when my mind strayed into familiar patterns, I saw them for what they were. The moment they drifted into unconscious loops, I could guide them back with effortless ease.

For a moment, I wondered if this was all there was—this stillness, this quiet solitude. And if it was, I felt peace in it. Acceptance.

Then, like a tide returning to shore, the medicine flowed in, carrying me far beyond the cave and into a vast cosmic expanse—a classroom among the stars, where we would have space to work.

My wounds unfolded before me, slow and deliberate, like a map of my mind unrolling across time. I saw them stretch out, not as isolated events, but as a vast network of synaptic connections—threads woven through this and other lifetimes, linking each moment they had touched in this timeline. Suddenly, I could see it. The way memory imprints upon the mind, influencing my emotional state across time and space. A genius display of understanding, rendered in breathtaking clarity—and the message:

"I can sense your fear, and until I appear, I cannot make it disappear. It is the unknown, unseen, unheard of, that spins an illusion to keep the comfort of knowing near."

Each trauma unraveled like a multidimensional puzzle, its pieces stretching through realms beyond logic, beyond what my mind could grasp—but my heart understood. A fuse was lit, and with a flash of light, the medicine ignited, moving through the pain, the suffering, dissolving the wounds into love.

She spared me from what I did not need to relive.

There were memories she did not show me, and in that, I felt her compassion, her kindness.

Instead, I was given a gentle purge in the form of breath—deep and full of her presence. And as I exhaled, golden light burst forth in dazzling, geometric perfection. Prisms and portals spun before me, an endless dance of luminous beauty beyond words. With each cycle of healing, the light returned, a reward for the release, a testament to the transformation.

We worked together in harmony—pain transmuted into light, grief lifted into freedom. And with every release, my body felt lighter, free of burdens I hadn’t known I still carried. Then, as if smiling, she would ask: What next?

Her presence was strong but required mine. This was one of the great lessons of working together—the deeper my presence, the further we could go.

The cavern of my mind, once empty and silent, became my resting place. My refuge. It was here that I learned the dance. When my thoughts strayed, unraveling into storylines that pulled me in every direction, I could call myself back—back to the silent sphere within. And as I practiced this return, my gift was revealed:

A sky of infinite stars, stretching in every direction.

I could feel my body hum with the shift in energy as I drifted, weightless, as my soul explored the cosmos.

I felt her invitation: Let go. The body is heavy. We can go further if you release your tie.

But without hesitation, I said I was to remain with my feet on the ground and my head in the sky.

There was another sip waiting, an invitation to go deeper. But instead, I chose to explore the subtle connection between us—I wanted to learn the delicate dance of our communion, to navigate the depths of awareness with only my breath and presence as my guide.

Tomorrow would bring another journey, another opportunity to explore the edges of our co-creation. But tonight, I would stay here, in this unfolding. In this ecstatic state of Oneness.

I woke the next morning with a knowing—a truth felt in every fiber of my being. My heart, healed and expanded beyond this lifetime, beat with a rhythm fuller, louder, freer than before. And for the first time, I felt love in a way I had never known. A love so vast, so all-encompassing, that it flowed effortlessly through me.

Self-love.

Not just as an idea, but as a force.

A current moving through my being, radiating outward, creating space for love to flow back in. A smile formed as tears spilled freely—tears of bliss, of relief, of my soul kissed by its own truth.

The wounds—those carried from this lifetime and others, the ancestral burdens woven invisibly through time—had healed. The trauma, the pain, the barriers that once kept me from the purest expression of self-love had dissolved.

And in their place, only love remained.