Lessons from La Selva
Dieta or "way of life" in the shipibo tradition is more than dietary restrictions prior to a weekend ayahuasca retreat. "Sama" in the shipibo language or dieta is a traditional spiritual practice of isolation in nature, strict diet of typically only eating small amounts of rice and plantains (no salt or spices), dieting of a specific master plant, ayahuasca ceremonies every other day, and no showering or use of synthetic chemicals/soaps/etc. In this refining, the subtle voices of the plants being consumed so regularly can be heard more fully. Our bodies can reconnect to not only the harmonics of the jungle, but our own nature. The insanity of ego-mind a faint sound in the sea of connection to the plant kingdom. Slowly one begins to develop a deep personal relationship to the plant that is being dieted, one that may not speak in our spoken language but through dreams, waves of emotion in the body, synchronicity, song, patterns of memory. The process works toward integration with the plants as sentient beings, towards union with the spirit of the plants and wholeness of Self.
I arrive in the amazon a bit rushed and exhausted from the flights and insanity of traveling to south america during a pandemic. Never the less, simply taking the collectivo drive from Iquitos deeper in land to nauta, I begin to get a sense of the poetry that will envelop me. I have longed to be back in the jungle since the moment I left my last dieta. Forget the medicine, simply being in the amazon is transcendent in it's own right. There is a symphonic chorus of sound happening at all hours, accompanied by this immense, palpable, spirit of the living and breathing organism that is the ecosystem, the jungle is profoundly alive.
We arrive, get settled, are given our last real meal and the basics of what we need to know for the diet. Something I admire about the man running the retreat; Mundo, is there is no more information, structure, or accommodations given than is necessary. You are given exactly what is needed, and not a razor's edge more. I found so much medicine in this alone. Naturally bringing to light my comforts, and perceived "needs" as slow-acting poison, the first being this "need" to know what's going on, what my plant will be like, etc. You don't need to know. have an experience, simply. Maybe question these needs instead, maybe it is your need to "know" that is the obstruction.
Consider how often our knowledge obstructs and colors the direct experience happening in real time. What is left when I release my grip of knowing? of prediction, of labeling, identifying? Why does ambiguity, mystery, abstraction inspire fear in so many of us? An opportunity to lean into faith, presence, creation. a gift and the first tangible test offered upon arrival.
Maestra Olinda tells me Renaquilla is the name of the plant I will be dieting. Both her and her husband/maestro Esteban offer nothing more than "muy fuerte" and "Muy bonito espiritu" as descriptors of the plant. Feeling into the wisdom of the process I am excited at the prospect of coming into another dieta without prior knowledge of the plant I will be developing my own relationship with.
Sparing the practical details of the experience, I want to write a bit from the perspective of my conscious experience...stream of consciousness style. Instead of offering some bullshit about what I learned, what I think it means, yadda yadda. I find the associations of seemingly "disjointed" thoughts and emotions much more close to the profundity and essence of my dieta experience than giving you the cliff notes as filtered through our system of thought prisons. I hope some of that essence can be felt and captured below...
"Everything eats and is eaten". There is something about sitting in the jungle, alone for a few weeks that makes that phrase palpable. The futility of my ambitions becoming soberingly apparent. Ambition, a god i have worshiped for years, how silly it all seems in the context of eternally spinning dharma. As if there was something to do, cosmic hilarity and ego delirium.
“There is nothing new under the sun, all else is vanity”
A nagging truth that finds itself ringing in my ears, seemly intent on revealing itself in every corner of my experience. There is death in that truth, and also, a vast and profound landscape of freedom and birth. Renaquilla chimes in:
"Death is only tragedy, is only experienced as suffering, in relation to attachment, a game you have a choice to play if you'd like."
The smell of the mud and earth taste a bit sweeter today, as do my emerging pheromones. Something that grounds me when the medicine is coming on strong. Not showering for weeks you'd think the smell would slowly become vile, what I notice is the scent shifts, I begin to notice the scent of the others during ceremony and I am not at all repulsed, a feeling of familiarity and attunement. I feel drastically more connected to my body in this way, not being this object of my consciousness, cut off at the neck, but a living, breathing, speaking self, with its own desires, preferences, dance. I feel this connection to all of my cells. I begin to feel my consciousness coming down from it's ivory tower of separation into harmony with the mud. What a relief, I sob, I sob as i write this, I'm so sick, we are so sick. This insanity of how we live, how sick we are, we diagnose, we seek the exact mechanism of the brain to blame. Could it be us? Could my symptoms be a perfect reflection exactly as they are? In the same way a broken arm tells me to rest, what are our ailments asking of us? The pace of life, our western lives I should say..and the buffet of distractions at our disposal piles on top of us at such a seemingly monotonous pace we are boiled frogs of a spiritual kind. Unaware of the sickness revealing bread crumb trails to our liberation.
Underneath lies a constellation of sadness, grief, anger, some concoction of un-processed life, desperately calling to be unearthed, waiting to show us the way back home. Instead we smother the song, we diagnose this song, we turn our cheek.
Nature waits, unassuming, unconditional, benevolent. This isn't fashion, this isn't the 60's, this is real, undeniable. I have been touched in a way I cannot explain, in a way that when i tune into gratitude and prayer what I feel is almost too much. What I can say is the plants speak, and I just hope I can continue to listen.
That would be progress.