Leaving the Jungle
Chapter 17: Not all dietas end where they begin. A story of letting go and finding the way forward.
I lay there on my mattress for a long time, paralysed. The fear slowly settled into something heavier, a kind of exhaustion that went beyond the body. At some point, I got up, walked out of the hut, and made my way to the temple. It was already 5 pm, and the sun was setting. I took some wood and rekindled the fire. When the flames were going again, I sat down and stared into them. Fear was still moving through me, fear of being alone in the jungle, fear of abandonment, fear that my dieta was collapsing. Underneath it was anger, disgust at what Luis had shared, and a deep sense of defeat.
The flames mesmerised me, and before I knew it, tears were rolling down my cheeks. They were coming from the depths of my being, and my body began to sob. I curled up in my hammock and let it all happen. After twenty minutes I calmed down and asked myself: “Is there anything that I can still trust in this moment?” I closed my eyes and listened to the answer. A wave of warmth, beauty, and love coursed through my body. I knew exactly who that was: the medicine was calling me. She had taught me so much. I felt so much gratitude for her.
I stood up, cleaned my hut, swept the porch, put some diesel lamps on the floor, and smudged with Palo Santo. I bathed in the river, got into my white clothes, and sat down. After some minutes of silence, I took the bottle of agua de florida and cleaned my hands, my wrists, and my face. I poured some more and touched the top of my head three times, cleaning my crown chakra, the connection with the divine. I took some more and touched the back of my neck to clear my throat chakra, the center of expression and speaking truth. I poured a last time, and brought my hand under my shirt to clean my heart, the place where love, compassion, gratitude, and trust reside. So many times I had gone through these movements. They had become my sacred ritual before every ceremony. My body relaxed into the ceremony.
I lit the diesel lamps and took out my notebook. I had written so much in the previous days and started to feel that those notes might become a book one day. I used a beautiful fountain pen in a handcrafted notebook that I had received as a gift from a dear friend in Peru just before I left. Throughout the whole dieta, I kept it in a waterproof bag. I placed it next to one of the diesel lamps, together with the pen. I had a feeling that the medicine might inspire me to write. I walked to the river to wash the little cup, and when I came back, I felt prepared.
I took a new bottle of medicine in my hands, held it in front of my heart, and closed my eyes. In silence, I said my words of gratitude to her. When I twisted the cap, there was a hissing sound, and some drops of medicine poured down over the plastic sides. The bottle had been sitting in my hut for a few weeks, in the heat of the jungle. The medicine had fermented a little, and pressure had built up inside the bottle. I smelled the medicine, and a shiver went through my body: the deliciousness of fermentation. It took me a while to feel ready to drink. I took a deep breath and started blowing my prayers into the bottle, concentrating on breathing through my mouth so as not to smell the medicine so strongly again. I asked the medicine for guidance, for clarity on my next steps, and to show me the path forward.
I poured a full glass, took a few deep breaths, and then swallowed it in one big gulp. The taste in my mouth almost made me puke. I had to concentrate on my breathing to make sure I kept the medicine inside. Outside of dieta, I would have eaten some small pieces of apple to help wash away the taste. But here in the jungle, on dieta, no sweets were allowed. I had nothing to wash out the last of the medicine in my mouth. Pure water was not an option, and the caiçuma next to me was fermented. Still, I drank a few sips of it. My whole body was revolting against what was happening.
Then I looked at the bottle and saw that I had forgotten to put the cap back on. The force of the medicine was already strong, and it took a lot of concentration for me to close the bottle. Many thoughts were already raging through my mind, and at one point, I just left the bottle and lay down. Why had the Indians left me? Was I safe here alone in the jungle? Was Luis going to kill me? Why was all of this happening? My mind was running wild, and a lot of fear, anxiety, and insecurity were raging through my system. Wasn’t this supposed to be my big dieta, a sacred time of learning, of growth, a sacred initiation that would entitle me to hold ceremonies? I had prepared for it so well, and now these people were ruining it.
In my mind, I went through all the arrangements we had made so clearly, and how many of them were not being honoured. I thought about finances and how much more money I had already spent above the amount we agreed on in the beginning. I had basically paid for the dieta of Edi and Muca, and now they had abandoned me. On top of that, so much food had been eaten by people who had nothing to do with the dieta, food that I had paid for. At times I had handed out money to people who were in need, and still they came and hung out, ruining the precious silence here in the temple I built. So many thoughts and projections were running through my mind, and while that was happening, my breath was deep and wild, and my body was moving, curling, stretching, finding ways to release all those emotions and tensions.
It must have been an hour and a half into the ceremony when my system slowly settled. My body relaxed and fell into a deep silence. With a few deep, calm breaths, I stretched out and lay calmly on my mattress. I fell into a deep silence. My mind was blank, and I just listened to the birds, the insects, and the wind rustling through the trees.
A voice whispered into my ear: “Relax. Completely relax your body. Just be.” There were long pauses between the sentences. “Relax. There is nothing to do, nowhere to go, nothing to resolve, nothing to take care of. Just relax and be.” A wave of calm entered my body upon hearing those words. “You are here, and you are fully worthy to be here and now. Feel that, trust that. Breathe it in, and breathe out anything that doesn’t serve you anymore. There is nothing else to do. Just relax. Just be.” Waves coursed through my body, bringing periods of full presence and other moments full of judgement and my mind trying to find solutions.
After a while I fell into a deep sleep.
I woke up with renewed energy, with a calmness and a sharpness of mind that I hadn’t felt for a long time. I didn’t move for a while and just lay there, still feeling waves of the medicine in my system. With closed eyes, I stayed in the silence. It felt as if I were watching myself from a distance. And there she was again. I took a deep breath and bowed to Nalini in deep gratitude. Her colors were stunning. She radiated so much silence, so much wisdom, her eyes calmly piercing my whole system. I felt so much love and admiration for her. What a force. I was in awe.
After a while she whispered: “Do you see what’s happening? Do you see what you are doing? Do you see that you are blaming, projecting, judging, putting responsibility on other people?” My mind was resisting hearing those words. Didn’t the Indians leave me? Didn’t they break our agreements? Didn’t Edi and Muca leave our dieta? Isn’t it normal that I have these thoughts? Aren’t they responsible? The serpent stayed quiet and calm. It was as if she was seeing every single one of my thoughts crystal clear.
“Maybe you are right. Those people made those choices; you could see it that way and blame them. At the same time, this is your dieta. You made the decision to take the root of Muka. You did that with the intention to become a leader, a healer. With the intention to grow and connect deeper with yourself and the medicine. Would you say that’s true?” I just nodded, but there was no nod needed. She seemed to know.
“With your choice of taking the Muka, only you are responsible for what’s happening. Do you think that the path of becoming a leader, or a healer, is an easy path? A path without any challenges? Do you think that the forces that will support your path will be handed to you on a golden platter?”
Those words landed in my system with a shock. I felt humble and embarrassed. She just looked at me. “All that happens during your dieta is happening because you attracted it in one way or another. Muka is very strong, and every single thought, word, or action will be amplified many times by that force.” While hearing those words, she was painting visions full of clear examples. Moments where my thoughts had gone negative, where doubts had come up, where I had felt judgements and comparisons, and how reality had slowly shifted in those directions. “You see more clearly how you attracted all this? You see how judgements and putting responsibility outside of yourself can create very challenging situations?” I took deep breaths and let those words sink into me.
“When you choose to be a leader, you have to take full responsibility for every step you take. Be fully present. Know your talents, know your weaknesses, and learn to navigate them with grace and clarity. Be humble, and become masterful at communication. Clear, open communication is a master key of leadership. Learn to voice your needs without expectation. Look at every projection as an invitation to look inside. Learn to be present in every moment. And from that presence, radiate your dreams with every breath and every beat of your heart.”
“Look at reality as a mirror, a reflection of how well you’ve shown up. Inquire into the places where there are invitations to expand, to learn, and to grow. In that learning, adjust your thoughts, words, and actions. Let gratitude be your thermometer to help you read how connected you are to your center. If you don’t feel gratitude, look at that situation, inquire into that relationship, and see it as an invitation to find more love and compassion. An invitation to show up differently in your reality. The situations that seem the most challenging can become the ones that take you down, or the ones that help you grow the most. In the end it is just a matter of perception.”
I lay there and let those words permeate my being. Gratitude for her was pouring into my heart. I basked in that feeling for a moment. Then my mind went to Luis and all that had happened that day. I felt the anger when I heard his words, the resentment when I tuned into his actions. And the abandonment of him leaving me.
“Let’s take what’s happening now as an example,” Nalini continued.
“But isn’t it true what I am feeling? Hasn’t this dieta been a complete disaster? Has Luis not done something that is unforgivable? Why did I leave my responsibilities in Peru to come to be with people that I hardly knew, that speak a language that is not mine, in an environment that is dangerous and wild? What was I thinking?” My thoughts started to become more negative again. I knew she was seeing every single one of them. I was being observed by a master, in complete transparency. Remembering that, I felt a little shame.
She was just present. I didn’t see any sign of judgement. The judgement was all mine. She stayed silent for a while.
“Know that you always have the power to choose. Remember to observe the three forces that you call money, power, and sexuality. Watch them, study them, observe them from as many directions as you can. And while you do that, look for any judgements that come up, any reactions that present themselves. See them as a reflection of the mirror that is this reality.
“Your thoughts about Luis are just reflecting your observations. They might not be the truth. Luis has his own life and makes his own choices. Your perception is colored through several lenses. One of them might be your upbringing, or what came to pass within your family and your sister. One of them might be the lens that you call your culture. The tradition of the Yawanawá is very different from yours, and in this tradition, relationships are seen very differently from how you see them in yours. A monogamous marriage might be an ideal in your world. Here it might not always be. In the Yawanawá culture it is common for people to have more than one partner. And some guidelines that seem important in your culture, like staying fully committed to a relationship no matter what, might not be so important here. When a relationship no longer serves the highest good of the people involved, they acknowledge that and let it go more easily.
“Here they can see a relationship between a younger woman and an elder as a blessing. The young woman will learn a lot from the elder, and because of that she has the potential to grow into a very wise woman. For the elder it is very supportive to be in the presence of a young woman. The energy of a young woman can help with longevity and vitality, which can greatly support keeping the precious wisdom of an elder longer in the tribe. That might allow for more passing of wisdom. In a culture where people don’t read and write, that is considered very precious. Try to see their perspective, even when it is not according to yours. To have empathy or to find understanding doesn’t mean that you agree with it. Being in disagreement doesn’t mean that you have to dislike a person. It just means that you see things differently. You can still love that person and feel gratitude for your connection. Relationships are precious.”
I let those words sink in. It was difficult to let the judgments go. I heard what she was trying to communicate, and I felt a gentle softening in my body. Going back to Luis’s words earlier that day, and feeling into what they had brought up inside of me, I still questioned the integrity of his actions. I was not sure if he had made that choice from a place of love, or for the preservation of his culture. Was that also part of their tradition? I thought sceptically.
“Observe what is happening now,” she continued. “Look at your thoughts and study them. Are you observing one of the three forces and how Luis might have acted around it?” I silently nodded. “It seems that you are questioning his integrity around his choices. Remember that it is just your perception that you are seeing. Through your senses you perceive reality. Those senses filter your reality, and what comes through is your truth. You have full permission to feel your truth, always. Just know that it might not be the ultimate truth, or the truth that another person is perceiving.” There was a long pause after these words. It was difficult to let them fully enter.
“At the same time, trust your truth, as that is your guiding force. Make your choices based upon that truth. And choose to be close to people whose choices you trust and whose values resonate with you. Be close to people where you feel love, inspiration, trust, and nourishment. There is no need for judgments, no need to fight, to make a point, or to think that your choices are superior. When you don't resonate with people's choices, you can always stay silent or choose to distance yourself. You are only responsible for your choices and the way you show up for them, so choose wisely. Make decisions based upon your truth, without any expectations of other people to do the same. Be the example of the world you want to create.”
That’s easy to say, I thought. Be the example. Here I am in the jungle, in a dieta I know very little about. I came here to learn, to study, and to be guided on this path. Instead Edi left, Muca left, and now Luis left. How can I be the example when I don’t even know what that looks like? Why should I even continue with this dieta? A small shock went through my body when that thought entered my mind. Was I really considering breaking my dieta?
“You are the only person responsible for your dieta,” Nalini went on. “You made the commitment to take the root of Muka, to abstain from drinking pure water, from sweets, to eat and drink in small quantities and to be celibate. That was your choice, and your choice only. I can see your thoughts. There is nothing to hide. Are you keeping that commitment? Or are you blaming other people and using that as an excuse to break it? Commitment is easy when all goes smoothly and according to plan. But when circumstances change, that is where strength and character are needed. Nobody is to blame for what’s happening. All is unfolding in divine perfection. Trust that.”
I took a deep breath. Although I couldn’t see the situation clearly, when I felt into my body, it relaxed hearing those words — a sign for me that they were true. In that moment I recommitted to my dieta.
“Muka is a strong force, and that force will be most active during your dieta. The jungle is a safe place to work with that force, as the jungle is home to many strong forces. You have the choice to move, always. You just have to be more careful when you go out. Not many people have left the jungle with the force of Muka, so there are not many experiences to learn from. When you leave, be very firm in your heart, with a very strong commitment to hold all that can come up. Are you ready for that?”
In that moment I felt a firmness inside. I knew I could hold the dieta outside of the jungle. I could find a place that was silent, with the right food, and where I could stay for the rest of my dieta. My mind started to go toward practicalities, but I brought it back to the present. The solution would present itself. I was an experienced traveler, and my intuition would guide me.
Then my mind turned to the jungle and the Yawanawá. The situation was complex, and it would take a lot of energy to get things back into harmony again. Unconsciously I had chosen a place where there was almost no experience with dietas, and more understanding and compassion for Sete Estrellas started to come in. They had done their best. Luis passed by in my thoughts, and I saw his face and sparkling eyes and remembered some of his words: “Dieta não é brincadeira, não.” A dieta is no joke. A smile crossed my face. Those were true words.
I took a deep breath and felt into my decision. I felt clearly that I was not ready to fully forgive Luis or go back to the energy we felt in the beginning. Too much had happened. Perhaps more understanding and compassion would come later. I was ready to be surrounded by like-minded people, in a place where I spoke the language and could communicate clearly. Slowly it became clear: it was time to move, time to pack, and find a safe place to finish my dieta. My body felt completely exhausted. It was time for some calmness and rest.
When I came to that conclusion, I looked at the serpent. Her eyes met mine, and it was as if she nodded her head gently — so gently that I questioned if she had even moved at all.
“It seems you’ve made your decision,” she said. “Travel light and pack well. Make sure you have enough food and liquids for a few days. You might not find the right food easily when you travel. Be prepared. Remember your commitment to Muka, whatever happens around you.”
I bowed my head in reverence to her. I was humbled by her wisdom. This night had given me so much clarity and understanding. I felt so much gratitude for her. Slowly the force of the medicine went down, and she disappeared. I opened my eyes and stretched my body. I looked at my iPod and saw it was 3am. If I was to leave the next day, I had a lot of preparing to do.
I took my flashlight, stood up, and walked into the temple. It was time to move. The fire was still glowing, and I blew on a few pieces of wood until the flames came back. I put a big pot of fermented caiçuma on the fire. Heating it would lower the fermentation and improve the taste. Then I walked through the jungle toward the fields. Moving between the massive corn plants, I took as many corncobs as my backpack could hold. Back in the temple, I threw them into the flames. Corn was excellent dieta food and easy to take on the road. I took some instant noodles and crackers from the kitchen and organized the rest of the food neatly. I remembered Luisa in that kitchen, and how well she had cared for us during those weeks. The rest of the food would be a gift for her.
Then I went back to my hut and organized my clothes and other things. I packed only what I thought I would need and stacked the rest neatly in a corner. For sure some people of the tribe would be very happy with the things I left and would find good use for them. There were still six two-liter bottles of Daime left. I was not sure what to do with them. The medicine was slightly fermented, but still good. Did I really want to travel with all those bottles? I decided to take one bottle for the rest of my dieta and gift the others to Muca. I would drop them off in his village on the way out, a nice sign of gratitude for our connection and time together.
The light of my flashlight caught the bottle of medicine that I had just opened a few hours before. It was standing next to an empty diesel lamp and beside my notebook. I hadn’t closed the lid fully, and the fermented medicine had dripped out of the bottle into the notebook. It looked completely soaked. I picked it up and opened it. I couldn’t believe my eyes. The medicine had erased all my writings of the last weeks.
A wave of frustration and despair went through my body. I had spent so much time writing down all that happened, with so much detail. I sat and closed my eyes. The force of the medicine was still gently with me. Weeks of work had just vanished, precious writings and insights washed away. I opened my eyes again and stared at the book. A question crossed my mind: who brings a paper notebook into the rainforest and writes with a fountain pen and blue ink?
I started laughing, and in no time I was rolling on my mattress. It felt so good to laugh. It was such a relief to feel all the things of the last weeks vanish. There I was, all alone in the middle of the jungle, at least ten kilograms lighter than when I walked in. I hadn’t drunk pure water for weeks, in a village where they spoke Yawanawá and Portuguese, two languages that I didn’t really speak or understand. What a freaking journey it had been. I just laughed and laughed. After a while I settled down again. The sun rose, and the light of day reminded me that I was on a mission. At any moment the Indians could come, and I needed to be prepared.
I stood up, packed the drowned notebook in a drybag, and organized the medicine. I put my bags, guitar, and the box of medicine in the temple. Looking at the fire, I saw that the leaves of the corncobs had roasted nicely. I took them out and opened one. The inside was perfectly grilled and warm. I ate slowly and in silence. The food deeply nourished my body. When I finished, I packed the rest of them in a bag and filled a few bottles with caiçuma. I had enough liquids and food for at least three or four days. Enough time to find a good place to continue my dieta.
I walked around and organized all the hammocks, the blankets, and some other random stuff that was lying around. I would leave all of it for the tribe to use and enjoy. I bathed and got dressed. The moment I put my shirt on, I heard footsteps. It was Louisa. She walked up with a big smile. I could feel a hope for a new chapter starting. I gave her a big hug.
She looked in disbelief at my bags. The hope in her face shifted into distress as she saw my bags packed, the hammocks organized, the hut basically empty and clean, and me ready to leave.
“Let’s sit down and have a tea,” I answered. I put a pot of water on the fire and made her a cup of tea. It felt good to make something for her. When it was ready I poured her a cup, and we sat down.
“Louisa. I am so grateful for this time here in the jungle with all of you. You have taken such good care of me. You have given so much love, so much care. All the food, all the caiçuma, always cleaning the jungle floor. It has done me so much good. Thank you so much for all of that.” I saw tears rolling down her cheeks, and it took me a moment to continue.
“At the same time, Louisa, things haven’t gone exactly as we planned. Edi left, Muca left, and people of the village came here to hang out and eat our food. It has been challenging at times, as you know. Yesterday with Luis I had a very strong conversation, and when you both left, I was scared here in the jungle by myself. I was worried something was going to happen to me.”
She was now crying deeply. “Please don’t leave us, Vata Txanu. Please don’t go. Everything will change, we will change all the things you want.”
My whole body tensed up, and my throat felt tight and dry. Louisa had been truly amazing in the last weeks. It was very difficult for me to hear those words coming from her, but my decision had been made. “Thank you, Louisa, for saying that. I really appreciate it. It is really difficult for me to say this, but I don’t think things will change that fast. It’s time for me to go and find a place where I can finish my dieta. I have organized all the food in the kitchen. It is all yours. I trust you know best what to do with it. It is a gift from me to you, as a sign of gratitude for all your love, care, and hard work in these weeks.”
She took my hand and kept repeating, “Please don’t go, Vata Txanu. Don’t leave us. Everything will be different from now on. Don’t go.” My eyes filled with tears. I loved this woman so much, and I felt her pain.
“Louisa, I would like a boat this morning to go to Tarauacá. I will pay whatever is needed to make that happen. Will you please help me?” I embraced her, and we melted in a long hug. By then we both were sobbing. Then I stood up, packed my things, and walked toward the village.
It must have been six or seven weeks since my last visit there. It felt unreal to walk that path that I knew so well, but hadn’t walked in weeks. I felt a little anxiety. I had no idea how my encounter with Luis would go.
The moment I entered the village, I was surrounded by children. I walked to the center of the village and saw Luis silently sitting on the porch of his house. I asked some of the children to call Edi. As he was the leader of the village, he would be the one to organize a boat and give permission for my departure. Quickly I learned that Edi had left for Tarauacá a few days earlier and would be back in the next few days. Branco, one of the men who had helped to build my house and the temple, walked up and asked what was happening. “I would like a boat to go to Tarauacá this morning. Can you please help me with that?”
There was hesitation on his face. He must have heard that something had happened the previous day, and everyone knew what had been going on in the last weeks. “Are you leaving us, Vata Txanu?” he asked. I nodded silently. “Edi has gone to Tarauacá and will be back tomorrow or the day after at the latest. Why don’t you stay until he comes back and then we can talk about a boat for you.”
My eyes locked onto his, and with more firmness I replied, “I would like a boat this morning. Please help me find one. I will pay whatever is needed to make that happen. Is there a boat in the village now?”
Branco shook his head. I walked to the shore to see if there were any boats, but I didn’t see any. Several people had surrounded me, and some of the women were crying and grabbing my arm, asking me to stay. Not sure what to do, I walked to the house of Maku. It did me good to see him sitting on his porch with a big smile.
“Vata Txanu, good morning! How are you doing?” he said when I walked up. I gave him a big hug and sat down beside him. At least ten children and some other people from the village had followed me, so the porch was packed. “I would like a boat, Maku. I would like a boat today to go to Tarauacá. Can you please help me?”
I learned that there was one boat, but the motor was broken. I kept my focus. I was determined to find a way out of the jungle that day. After twenty minutes I saw Qwatsi running toward us. He had been working in the fields that morning. He ran straight to me, and we fell into a big hug. We both cried holding each other. I felt so much love for him in that moment, and so much sadness to leave him behind. We held that hug for a very long time.
When we let go, we looked each other in the eyes. “Qwatsi, I am going to leave today. I think you understand why. This is not a good place for me to complete my dieta. I will go and find a place where I can finish it in silence and calmness. I love you dearly. You feel like a son to me. I am beyond grateful for this time together with you. I know and trust that you will grow up to be a strong man, a leader, a warrior who can handle many responsibilities. All the capacity to make that happen is inside of you. Trust that, and when doubt comes up, remember my words.”
I had prepared a little note for him with my email address and two hundred dollars wrapped inside. “This is for you, Qwatsi. Guard it well and use it wisely, okay? This is for you and for you alone.” He put the money in his pocket and gave me another long hug. It was so beautiful to feel him and the love we shared for each other.
The time that followed was chaotic and filled with many conversations. I could feel they were hesitant to help me since Edi was not there. After a long negotiation, Branco agreed to take the boat without a motor and bring me to a small village just downstream. There lived Joã, a dear friend of Luis who had visited us a few times. He had a boat and a motor, and I was hoping he could bring me to the small harbor village. From there I could get on the road to Tarauacá and Rio Branco.
I said my final goodbyes to everyone. It was a very emotional moment. Many of the women were crying. The children were standing around looking sad, not really understanding what was happening. Louisa kept pulling on my arm, asking me to please stay. I felt really sad to be leaving these beautiful people, and at the same time I knew it was the best thing to do. So I kept moving toward the shore and the boat that Branco was preparing. Just before I reached the water, I passed by Luis’s house. He had been sitting there all that time, watching me from a distance.
I put my bags on the ground and walked toward him. “Vata Txanu, are you leaving?” he asked calmly. I nodded, looking him in the eyes. I sat down next to him on the porch and took out my rapé. “Luis,” I started, “I am going to leave and finish my dieta in another place. I am very grateful that I was able to receive the root of Muka and enter my dieta. Thank you for that. I think we both know how these last weeks have been. I feel it is best for me to find a silent spot somewhere, in a place where there are not many people, and where I have the food and the liquids that are needed. Know that I will finish the dieta. I am not planning to break it. I will just not finish it here.” I took some rapé, and in silence we watched the water of the river flow by.
“Will you come back?” he asked. I closed my eyes and felt into that question for a while. One part of me knew that I would never come back again. The last weeks had been so challenging, and I felt no calling to return. At the same time, I felt a tremendous amount of love for the jungle and these people, and that made me wonder if time would shift my decision.
“Let’s see,” I answered. “Time will tell what is going to happen. Thank you so much for everything, Luis. I wish all the best for you, your family, and everyone here in the village.” My body was trembling speaking those words. I didn’t feel gratitude for all that had happened, and at the same time I knew that I had lived something very special in the last few months. I stood up and, without looking back, picked up my bags, walked to the boat, and stepped in. When Branco pushed the boat forward with his long stick, I couldn’t look back and wave to the tribe. I was crying too hard. I closed my eyes and floated downstream on the river where I had arrived with so much anticipation and enthusiasm just a little over two months before.
Half an hour later, we arrived at the house of Joã. I stepped out of the boat, walked to his hut, and knocked on the door. He opened the door, looked calmly at me, said a few words in Yawanawá to Branco, and walked back into the house. A few minutes later he came back with a small backpack and a can of gasoline. They moved all my belongings into Joã’s boat. I said goodbye to Branco, and by 11am I was floating down the Rio Gregorio, back to civilization.
Joã was silent throughout the trip. He had been present many times in the last weeks in the temple, so he knew what had happened there. No words were needed between us. He stood straight at the back of the boat, navigating it skillfully. It felt so good to be there. I propped my duffel bag behind me, leaned back, and fell asleep. Joã woke me up when we arrived at Muca’s village. I splashed some river water on my face, took the box of Daime, and walked up the shore.
Some children ran to find Muca, and we sat down together on a little bench. We spoke about what had happened in the days after he left. Our conversation was short, but full of love. Muca received the box of Daime with a lot of gratitude.
Joã and I arrived in São Vicente around 5 pm. I hugged him, paid him well, and walked toward the road. I discovered there were no cars or buses going toward Rio Branco until five the next morning. I was not going to wait twelve hours for a vehicle, that was for sure.
A truck stopped and out of the back jumped Edi’s wife. She looked at me standing there with all my bags and started to cry. “Please come and see Edi,” she said. We walked to a small shop and sat down. Edi was sitting at the table, his eyes turned toward the ground. He looked worried, and the energy felt tense.
“Edi, how are you doing? How is your dieta going?” There was no response. He was holding a bottle of purified water in his hand. “I see you are drinking water. Does that mean you broke your dieta, Edi? If so, that is a very serious decision you made. You know that you are going to see some consequences from this in the time coming, don’t you?” There was no answer.
“I trust that you know what you are doing, Edi. I felt really sad when you left us. It brought a big shift in our dieta. The last days have been very challenging for me. When I entered ceremony, I got clarity that it was better for me to leave the jungle and continue my dieta somewhere else. I am leaving now.”
Edi nodded but didn’t really answer. It hurt me to feel the distance between us. We hugged each other before I grabbed my bags and walked to the road. I waited there for hours in hopes of a vehicle coming by. I was determined to be on the way to Rio Branco that night. Around 8 pm, I saw a minivan approaching. I walked a bit up the road and waved, and the van slowed down and stopped. It had some broken windows and looked quite shady. The driver asked where I was going. “Tarauacá,” I answered, “and then onward to Rio Branco.”
He smiled and waved his hand for me to get in. “We are driving to Rio Branco tonight, so come in and take a seat,” he said.
They opened the back of the van, and we put my bags inside. I got in and we drove off into the dark night. After a while on the bumpy road, I relaxed into my seat, laid my head back, and slept. I woke up feeling calm and relaxed. It felt so good to be out of the jungle and back into the real world.
I started thinking. I have five weeks of dieta remaining. What is a good place to complete it? Shall I go back to my center in Peru? It would be tempting to dive back into my responsibilities there. I decided that was not a good idea. What about finding a beach somewhere in Peru? Maybe with a small hut, somewhere next to the ocean. For sure I could find the right food there — swim, soak up the sunshine, strengthen my body a bit. Yes. That would feel good.
The next hours my mind wandered in many directions as I fantasized about spending time with friends and going to exotic countries. At one moment I even started to consider breaking the dieta. The last weeks had been really challenging. Why would I continue on this journey? Why stay without water, with very little bland food, and in complete celibacy?
With those thoughts, the feeling of freedom grew inside me. I continued fantasizing. I remembered the motorbike I had in Peru, built for mountain roads and long trips. I had taken it on some epic journeys through the Andes. I dreamed about getting back on that bike and cruising through Peru, all the way into Chile and Patagonia. As the trip was taking shape in my mind’s eye, I could feel the wind in my face. With a smile, I imagined the unfolding adventure, meeting interesting people on the way, finding special places to visit, and seeing gorgeous landscapes. My mouth was salivating as I thought of delicious foods and fresh juices. How would it be to end this celibacy?
Out of nowhere, I heard a stern, strong voice inside me yell: “No!”
This shocked me, shaking me out of my dreamworld. I kept my eyes closed and took a deep breath. I bowed my head, feeling a deep respect. I felt it was the force of Muka speaking.
“No. You will not go in that direction,” the voice continued.
“Why not?” I responded out loud.
“Look out the window,” the voice answered. “That’s why.”
I opened my eyes and obeyed. There on the side of the road, in the lights of the van, a motorbike was lying in a ditch. It was damaged and broken. A little further on, there was a man. Blood was everywhere. A shock went through my body. The van slowed, and in the beam of the lights, I could see a ripped-off arm and part of a severed leg.
We stopped and got out. We were in the middle of nowhere. The next village was at least a couple of hours in either direction. There was no cell phone reception, and in the middle of the night it was very unlikely that an ambulance could come. I followed the driver and some other people from the van and walked toward the man lying there. His wife was standing next to him, sobbing uncontrollably. I sat down next to the man, put my hand on his heart, and a few minutes later he passed. A deep silence entered my system.
A little later a truck stopped. We loaded the man and his bike into the truck and continued our journey. I stayed silent for the rest of the ride. One thing was certain: I was not planning a bike trip during this dieta.
The days that followed, I ended up in a simple guesthouse on Ometepe, an island in Nicaragua. It was Christmas Eve. The place was almost full, and after some haggling, I got the last hammock in a dormitory-style room. Four hammocks dangled from the ceiling in a row, close together. It was late in the evening, and the others were already sleeping. Quietly, I put my bags and guitar down and crawled into my hammock.
I lay there for a while, unable to sleep, thinking about how strange and funny it was to arrive here on Christmas Eve, in a shared hut in the middle of Nicaragua, ten kilograms lighter than I had been three months ago. Just before I drifted off, the woman in the hammock next to me let out a long, loud fart, aimed directly in my direction.
I burst out laughing. Merry Christmas, I thought.
The next day, I looked for a quieter spot. I heard some people talking about a spiritual community tucked against the hillside of Volcán Maderas, with spectacular views of Volcán Concepción. Hearing those words, I knew I had found the place to continue and finish my dieta.
After arriving, I moved into a small jungle hut and put my hammock on the porch. I spent the next few days drinking small amounts of medicine and writing. I would not go on a journey by taking those small amounts, but the gentle dose helped me revisit my weeks deep in the Amazon. It felt good to be there in my hammock, writing away. This time I was using a laptop. I had learned my lesson.
In the weeks that followed, I spent most of the time in my hut by myself. But as I neared the end of the dieta, I began to show up for the morning practices. Different people shared different things: movement, breathwork, dance, meditation. It did me good to move my body again, to breathe more deeply, to slowly be around people again. It helped me transition from the intensity of the jungle, strengthen my body a little, and find my way back into the rhythm of daily life.
The community kitchen was a great place to hang out, and most of the food came fresh from the garden. Keeping the dieta pure was not so difficult. There were lots of vegetables, salads, and herbal teas.
As it happened, people started to talk about Ayahuasca. At first, I kept a distance from those conversations. The last few months had been really intense, and I felt hesitant about the medicine. Sometimes I wasn’t sure if I would ever drink it again, but the enthusiasm of the people talking about it reawakened a fire inside me. It didn’t take long, and I was right in the middle of those conversations.
One day I went on a hike with a great couple from Canada, and during our walk I told them about meeting the Yawanawá, the time in the jungle, and our encounter with Nalini. In the beginning, I felt some hesitancy and held back about sharing my connection with the medicine. But when I got back to my hut, I took the medicine from my bag and made an altar for her next to my bed. I could feel that the hike had sparked a renewed appreciation for her.
That night, we fired up the hot tub and continued our conversation. The sky was open and blue, and the top of the volcano, normally hidden between clouds, was clearly visible. The sun disappeared behind the horizon, resulting in one of the most spectacular sunsets I had ever seen.
It was my first hot tub in months, and after weeks of washing myself in a cold Amazonian stream, the warm water felt like heaven. I laid back and listened to Doug and Robyn share about how their relationship had deepened over the last few years. A couple of hours into the warm water, they shared that it was time to get engaged and asked if I would be open to holding a ceremony for them in honour of that special moment.
I closed my eyes. I felt doubt about the medicine and holding ceremonies after all that had come to pass in the jungle. Maybe I should let this opportunity pass, was the first thought that crossed my mind. But when I felt into it a bit more deeply, I could also feel a warm tingling in my heart. I had taken some medicine to Nicaragua for a reason. And this small, private engagement ceremony felt like such a beautiful expression of love. I could feel the truth in the situation. It almost felt like a new beginning. I opened my eyes and nodded. It would be an honour and a pleasure to be in ceremony together with this couple.
The following day I prepared a fire in one of the temples and made two cozy spots for Robyn and Doug. I spent the rest of the afternoon transforming the space into a ceremony room. In the early evening, we gathered around the fire. I cleansed myself with agua de florida and palo santo. Carefully I took the bottle of medicine, blew in some prayers, and started the ceremony. I played some gentle songs, and after half an hour I could feel the medicine come in. I put my guitar aside, closed my eyes, and leaned back against the wall. I could see the patterns and colors, and felt my breath deepen. My body relaxed. It felt so good to be back in that space. I bowed my head in gratitude.
“Thank you for this opportunity to serve you,” I expressed in silence to Madre Ayahuasca. “Thank you for these last months. Thank you for this dieta. I am so grateful for the challenges. I am aware that I don’t see the complete picture yet, but I trust that this passage will bring more dedication, commitment, and strength. It has been very humbling.” In the distance I could see Nalini’s stunning, coiled body. I bowed my head in deep reverence. No words were needed this time.
I stayed in that place for a while, felt a song coming through, and took up my guitar:
Abuela Ayahuasca Las gracias te doy Las gracias te doy
Por abrirme el corazón A la sanación Por abrirme al amor
While I was singing, I could feel gratitude flowing. With my mind’s eye I went back to the time before the dieta, where I had dreamed of a perfect dieta in complete solitude, with just Luis and Louisa there with me in the jungle. Many moments of teaching where we would sit calm and quiet and Luis would pass ancient knowledge and tell sacred stories. My expectation of a dieta had been a bit different than what I had experienced in the previous months.
I started to understand that I had been comparing the actual dieta with the picture I had in my mind. And when it didn’t fit perfectly, I wanted a shift, a change. In that song I started to feel gratitude for all the challenges, the difficulties, the misunderstandings, the fear. And in that song, the words of Padrinho Alfredo came back to me: “When you enter this path, challenges will come to you. Those challenges can come in many forms. What is good to remember is that those challenges come almost as a question with the universe asking you: ‘Are you really committed?’ In those moments of challenge, try to find courage and strength. There is always a way through the challenge, and when you keep calm and focused, you will find that way. When you come to the other end, you will be stronger, there will be more understanding, and more ease will come. Like that, life moves in waves. Are you really committed?’”
His words and our encounter came back to me so clearly in that moment. I bowed my head in gratitude, and after some silence, I sang my favorite hymn in honor of the Santo Daime and in gratitude for Padrinho Alfredo.
Flor das aguas Da onde vem, para onde vai Vou fazer minha limpeza No coração está meu pai
A morada do meu pai É no coração do mundo Aonde existe todo amor E tem um segredo profundo
Este segredo profundo Está em toda humanidade Se todos se conhecerem Aqui dentro da verdade
The visions continued to evolve, and when I looked up, my eyes closed. I saw the tall man with his long stick, the serpent lying calmly at his feet. I had seen him before in my visions, and each time I wondered who he was. A great leader of old, perhaps. Or maybe a version of myself still becoming. It was as if he was watching me from above. Again I bowed my head in gratitude.
What a time it had been. I had never expected that a dieta would be so hard and difficult. I knew challenges would come, but I never expected them to come so strongly in the world around me. The only other dieta I had completed had been a week-long dieta with Chiric Sanango. That dieta was really special, and I had enjoyed it tremendously. The visions in those ceremonies had been really beautiful and profound, and although the dieta had an impact on my life, the shifts had been gentle and easy to manage.
Muka had been completely different. I had not felt the force of Muka directly in my body or in my visions so much, but it had impacted my life in ways that were sometimes hard to grasp. I had felt so much doubt and insecurity. It had brought me to a place where I considered breaking the dieta, where I wondered if my relationship with the medicine and holding ceremonies had come to an end. So many unexpected happenings.
And still, after all those challenges, those guiding forces were still there. Another wave of gratitude moved through, and I could feel the people of Sete Estrellas, Edi, Muca, Luis, Louisa. I could see my little jungle hut, the beautiful temple. Those beautiful, shining people with their huge smiles. Tears started to roll down my cheeks. As I sat beside the fire, playing music, more understanding came in. The dieta was coming to an end. I had almost made it.
But the end would merely be a new beginning. The pieces were coming together. Everything had happened in complete perfection. There was no one to blame, no one to shame, no one to judge. There was an invitation to full responsibility. Wasn’t that what leadership was about? Having the ability to respond to any situation with our actions, words, and thoughts?
The hymn came to an end. I kept a moment of silence, guitar still in my hands, listening to the next song that would present itself. After a while my fingers started to pluck the strings of the guitar again:
From deep within the Mother Gaia and reaching out to the Father sun I am so grateful for this life and to be serving the will of the One
I started to feel sorry for the way things had unfolded in the jungle and for some of the ways I had behaved. I didn’t know better in those moments. I thought I knew exactly how things should have been, how people should have acted, how a dieta should be held. But what did I know?
Feeling into that question, it landed on me that I actually knew very little. That thought startled me at first, and I felt a bit heavy. In my mind I tried to grasp things that I thought I knew, but one by one they started to dissolve and disintegrate. What was happening? What did I know? Feeling into that last question again, another answer was coming through: I actually knew nothing for sure.
With that thought, the heavy energies cleared, and gratitude flowed back through my body. What a relief. I know nothing. And when I don’t know anything, then I also don’t have to pretend to be somebody or something else than I actually am.
I am that I am.
Those words stayed with me for a while in that ceremony. Just be, and that is more than enough. There is nothing to do, nothing to achieve, nothing to pretend. Just be.
All the while I was fully immersed in the music. The songs kept teaching me:
Hari Om Nama Shivaya Hari Om Nama Shivaya Hari Om Nama Shivaya Hari Om Nama Shivaya
Om Hari Om Om Hari Om Om Hari Om
Tears were running down my cheeks, the fire was burning, the moon was shining her bright light into our temple, the stars were radiating a memory from the past, the leaves of the trees were rustling gently, and the birds and insects were creating an incredible symphony in the background. I opened my eyes and saw Doug and Robyn cuddling under a blanket, deep on the force of the medicine. My fingers were strumming the strings of the guitar, the song coming to an end. A smile came over my face, and I bowed my head. Gracias, Santa Musica.
After the songs I put my guitar away and listened to the silence, breathing in all that had just happened. My mind was slowing down, and I dropped into a state of peace and calm.
The days that followed felt relaxed and beautiful. I spent time in my hammock writing, taught some yoga classes in the community, and spent time with great people. I also started to use email and internet again. One day I received an email from a guy in Rio Branco. He wrote that Qwatsi wanted to speak to me and posted his number with a request to call him. The message took me by surprise. How could Qwatsi be in Rio Branco? And how did that guy have my email address?
I closed my eyes and let the message sink in. I remembered I had given Qwatsi a couple hundred dollars when I left, along with my email address. That had just happened a couple of weeks before, and Qwatsi had never left the jungle before. Had he really travelled all the way to Rio Branco? I couldn’t wait to find out and walked two hours to the next village, called the guy, explained in my simple Portuguese who I was, and a few minutes later I heard Qwatsi on the other side: “Ola, Denní?”
Hearing his voice made me emotional. “Qwatsi!” I started. “How are you? It is so good to hear your voice. How did you get to Rio Branco? Who is this guy that wrote me?” I had so many questions for him.
“Denní, are you good?” he said. “We have all missed you. I was very sad and cried for days when you went away. The whole village has been very quiet in the last weeks. When will you come back?” I was silent after hearing those words. It did me so much good to hear his voice and to feel our connection.
“Qwatsi, you know, the time in the jungle was not easy for me. Many things happened there, and I felt it was best for me to leave and finish my dieta somewhere else.”
“Where are you now?” he asked.
“I am in another jungle, in another country, Nicaragua. In a few days I am closing my dieta here.”
“When are you coming back to us?” Qwatsi repeated.
“Qwatsi, I am not sure,” I replied.
“But you have to come back. We are all waiting for you.” Those words touched something inside of me, and I felt my armor melting.
“Qwatsi, our time together was so beautiful and special, I will forever cherish that in my heart. At the same time there were many challenges. I think you know that. How did you manage to get to Rio Branco?” I asked.
“When you left, the whole village was quiet, and many people were sad. Then one day I went hunting, and when I walked through the forest, I decided to go to Rio Branco and visit my mother.” His mom had left him with Luis and Louisa when he was three days old, and he had never seen her since. What a decision to make for a twelve-year-old boy. “So when the next boat departed from the village, I hopped on and went to Tarauacá. From there I took the bus to Rio Branco.”
“Did you find your mom there?” Rio Branco was a big city and, as far as I knew, no one from the village had seen his mother for years. But Qwatsi had managed to find her. The man who had sent me the email was his mother’s new husband.
“Qwatsi, what an incredible journey you have made all by yourself. I am so impressed.”
“When are you coming back?” he said again.
“Qwatsi, I am actually not sure if I am coming back.”
“But of course you are coming back,” he continued without a doubt. “You are coming back because we are family, and that is what family does. Things happen, then time goes by, and then we come together again. That’s family. There is no other way for it to happen. Maybe I can come to Peru to visit you, or maybe you can come here. I don’t know. But let’s see each other again.”
Listening to those words, spoken by a child who had just left the jungle all by himself to find his mother and a way to contact me, touched me deeply. I knew he was right, and I felt my eyes well up with tears. The question of whether we would see each other again dissolved, and a new question arose: when?
The next days unfolded naturally, and on the last day of the dieta I led a daytime ceremony for a few men. We had hung our hammocks between some trees, and when the ceremony closed, I walked to the kitchen and poured a glass of San Pellegrino, my favorite sparkling water in the world.
Looking out over the garden and the spectacular views, I let the first sip enter my mouth. The sparkles danced over my tongue as I swished the cool liquid around in my mouth. I wanted to taste the water as much as possible. When I finally swallowed, it was as if my body was soaking the water up like a sponge, a dry sponge that had been lying in the sun for a long time. It felt better than any orgasm I ever had.
Some people knew what was happening and watched. I opened my eyes and lifted my glass in a toast: “First glass of water in three months. Santé!”
I drank two full glasses of sparkling water. Never, ever, had water tasted so good. After a few hugs and some food, we moved to the hot tub. From the warm water I could see the top of the volcano surrounded by misty clouds. As time went by, they became thinner and received and transmitted the rays of the evening sun. A glorious lightshow unfolded of gold and orange, fading away to a pitch-black sky, full of stars shining the memory of the past.
My dieta was officially closed. What a ride it had been…