A MULTIPLE INDUCTION
FROM AYAHUASCA BEYOND
By Experiencer: Wiz Kininigin
There really is no beginning…
All comes and goes with the flow…
My eyes, reality itself, become zillions of tiny swiveling diamonds waving and bending like a mirrored curtain, a meshing myriad of crispy polygons looking in several directions all at once… Whatever the thought, instantly the reflection… Being here there then now… I swallow hard as my soul peels off the back of my neck and then… pass the bitter brew along.
Ayahuasca or Yagé. Soul wine. Boiled from a serpentine jungle vine… Simultaneously winding and unraveling… It knows the power of insight. Suddenly, there I am… thrust from a bridge, falling into darkness, only the hissing sound of the sinuous shimmering river far below, I go speeding into infinity, my ankles tied by a very long elastic Bunji rope… It was a poignant metaphor for what was to come.
My adult life had barely debuted and already I had been harnessed, put to toil in the social inertia, pulled by tense taunting strings, compromised in a web of lies, my projects rusting on hold, my dreams, my being… wired.
Then, providence. The mysterious rainforest summoned me forth and behold… a liquid solution to all the mess. I dived into the mighty elixir of the jungle goblet with nothing but my fury and my fantasies. I had no intention of returning to a dead end future, and I didn’t… I reactivated into the living now… jolted in the cocoon… awake in the void… trespassing the hologram maze… a seedling wandering in deep space… minded flights to a polyhedron sphere which I later knew was the moon. I understand I’ve seen things I wasn’t supposed to… Nevertheless, the mystic euphoria was far too appealing, so I explored even more omniscient cocktails of sacred plants… San Pedro, Peyote, Psylocybin, Mezcal, Floripondio… But because of my recklessness, there had been no consideration I might be ripping, slashing, gashing the veils of consciousness and that maybe ‘others’ could see me too… possibly taking advantage of all the blind spots… reading me… our very DNA an open book.
The bowl circles round again… This time I ponder the viscous soup. There is only an opaque glaze of my reflection. I take a deep breath and gaze before me… The shamanic church… It is when we see ourselves through others that the lessons really begin… the human weaknesses, the jealousy, personal power trips, vulnerabilities, hierarchies, obsessions… These passions that race through our veins. Smoke billows in my face and the face of Carmina, a sun dancer shamaness flares into view, her eyes sparkling, penetrating… Our own affair with passion was always ambiguous until… The moment calls me back and I lift the awe-full ale to my lips as it oozes in like slime water. My mind cruises vertigo… I am beyond movement, beyond speech. Someone lifts the bowl from my light speed fingertips… A sequence of flashes ripple reality, fluttering my vision… my head throws back and I look again… There I am amidst stage lights and spectators, my buddy Gabreal beside me… We’re up & coming, out to shake the world, a shamanic revival performance group on a lightning streak.
However, I was also naively dabbling with the occult and along with Gabreal mixing with vice… We were a scheduled attraction. Then, during a breakaway tour to a foreign country, the unpredictable happened… something bit me… a spellbinder named Koral. She appeared beautiful, bewitching… Through her my being was cast with a Vipers Enchantment. I was enticed by her intellect, lost in her thighs, she snaked her way, folded the show, and my towering illusion tumbled into wretched misery. I was enslaved to her weirdly ways, barely grasping my sanity. Until, a freak accident with her collar bone kept her still, and the aid of an unknown one-armed shaman eventually led to my release, although I could see the road ahead was swiftly being intervened.
Alas, with my liberation from her warm, wet, luscious dungeon, I returned homeland and discovered ‘Salvia Divinorum’, the divining sage. Emerging beyond the sea of time, I could see in all directions at once; the great pyramid, volcanic eruptions, visions of what was to come… and then, obsessively, I beckoned her to Babylon where we wed during a major planetary alignment. One perplexing year later as a California beachside couple, on our anniversary day, the new knowledge I had been invisibly guided to and intended to share elsewhere now systematically conspired against me.
As I read the brief phrases of her strange farewell note, instantly, mercilessly, the stinger was yanked from within… my heart and soul hemorrhaged… devastation… crisis… walking in circles… drowning in muddled memories… cursedly aware… fierce psychic attacks… She wrote for divorce on September 10, 2001! At that point my life went utterly bankrupt, my mind quarantined, no access to the past or the future, I was a ghost. After a fathomless period of profound redemption, my emptiness gave space for divine assistance. At the climax of my 9 month deliverance with the physical death of Andrea, another mysterious female who appeared minutes after Koral abandoned me, I served as a vehicle for her wandering spirit for 3 lingering days and nights. On our final evening as one, we arose beyond, when an omniscient voice overtook me, simply saying: “That was that universe, now you’re going to another just the same, yet different.” That phenomenal history is the turning point of my past life opera.
I feel a tug and am jerked back to a familiar scenario… My will bends like rubber… the shamanic church, again. This time I’m here on a mission of revelation and have conceded to one last defiant drink of the magic potion. My ex-shamaness lover Carmina, now aged, is heading the session and dedicates it to “The Enigma of Woman”. The eternal feminine huffs and puffs and settles in, and while I stare into the moon, the night becomes dawn, as the ritual is consumed. But my senses avalanche as I struggle and befuddle with the unknown, tried so desperately hard to wake others from their numb slumber, but all of this has been foretold. My prophetic visions come forth, while my ambitions turn to ashes… Unbearably as the final charge dissipates into disillusion, grimly I must accept there has been a self-violation of my own freewill. The gift of the vegetable chalice is highly taxed.
As the blur finally stills, I find myself neatly tucked away from the world in a cute little house in a most curious setting. Before me looms the very same enigmatic mountain I was taken to in another space and time by my lost love Koral. I pass a cup dripping with coffee to our elderly country housekeeper, a carbon copy of Carmina. Their physical resemblance is as baffling as their shared character. Then I focus on my new companion beside me, sweet Cici. It’s just too overwhelming. Our connection has the most inexplicable supernatural implications. Physically she resembles Gabreal, my strayed best buddy, yet ephemerally she evokes Koral! I’m also perplexed at the nexus with Andrea. It was during her presence in me that Cici and I first made contact.
Due to the incredible history I’d been through, I was still overcome with fears… kept away from others, plagued by voices of doubt and self-defeating resentment towards those who didn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t understand my own and the greater world predicament. Yet always an artist, together we didn’t delay making the best of things. Until surreptitiously something halted. One morning, gasping in suffocation, my soul awoke me, my heart barely palpable, the stale poisoned silence was killing me, I had to write something down and send it off. Then, surely enough, the forces that be began to stir the thick broth of destiny once more. This whole trip is far from over…
©Wiz Kininigin (a Pseudonym) is an Artist/Anthropologist.
©Initiations is part of a real life testimony.
© 2011 All commercial rights of original texts reserved by the Author.
© 2011 All commercial rights of original images reserved by the Artists.
This document is intended for Research and Education in the Public Domain.