The Golden Codes
I had known darkness from this side. I was never quite sure if it was a heart attack. The only certainty was that my body was not entirely responding. I thought that if I closed my eyes and let go, I would be gone forever. After multiple calls to the ambulance, the same old scene: Paramedics entered the flat for a brief check: pulse, blood, CT scan. And then: "Your body is in good condition. It's your mind."
I spent two years experiencing severe panic attacks and anxiety crises. At some point I got to know them so well that I developed "grounding techniques," like using each sense to feel my body again. But nothing was ever as effective as the plants. I was born and raised in the South, taken by my mother to the curandera del barrio1 because of the lack of scientific answers to my long cries. My heart never left the South. All my memories smell of plants. I only left my country to strengthen the bonds of my return, of the roots from which my branches spring.
To return home isn't only to return to the territory where one is born, but also to return to the skin changes, to the old ways of seeing and living life, to find beauty in being torn to pieces, the mestizaje of our tales. The Kofán is a pueblo indígena in the Amazon; on one of my returns I coincided with them. I was about to embark on a healing path with power plants for the second time, but this time in a ceremony guided by the taita 2 Querubín, “el abuelo tigre”. He was 104 years old when I met him. His skin colour and strength were those of the Amazonian oak. I´d been told that the ceremonies led by him were out of this world, literally.
There were about thirty people. I was so fed up with my panic attacks that I gave myself up to the chuma3 without a second thought. Someone said that if I had a specific need, I could tell the taita when he gave me the totumo 4 My legs trembled a little as my turn approached. There were two lines, one of men and one of women and children. The solemnity of silence, the reverence for the brew. My turn had come. Those who are going to die salute you, I thought. Grandpa tigre and I, eye to eye. I asked him to take care of me. My problem is in my head, I said. He smiled a little: -Tranquila mija, tómeselo. It tasted bitter, potent.
Fear had been the main reason for going to the ceremony, the urgence to get rid of it. The biggest nightmare I wanted to face. It wasn't sure at what point it’d reveal its face. They said death could show you her beauty any time, even if it’s just the surname of one of the transitions we experience in the many dimensions we inhabit, I was terrified. I felt tired, a little dizzy, very dense. So I went into the tent to see if anything happened, my whole body was heavy. I laid down. Suddenly I saw colourful figures, kaleidoscopic. Ya estoy pintando 5, I thought. I left the tent a bit short of breath, the dizziness became stronger. I thought I was going to hit the ground but I managed to keep walking, carried by my legs without my will. I buckled, fell to my knees in front of the trees and knew I was about to see something extraordinary.
My eyelids were heavy but I managed to open my eyes. The longest cobra I´ve ever seen was staring at me, standing about two metres away. It was fluorescent green, it resembled a hologram. No doubt that it was real. Two other cobras were standing next to it, approaching me. I asked for strength. If I wanted to live, I had to do something for it. When I looked at my hands, strong claws were growing from my paws. I fell down hard on the grass. The plant’s voice said, "Look at the snake under my feet. You don't have to kill it. Just tame it.” Other voices were heard from afar, in whispers they asked the taitas to assist me. My soul left my body. The three snakes enclosed my legs. I tried hard to stay alive, sweating, crying. I didn't think for a second about giving up. The earth gave me momentum and I stood up as a snake, twice their size. I showed them my teeth, ready to spit my poison on them. Instantly, they disappeared. I fell to the ground in surrender. Tears fell from my eyes, accepting mortality, I had lost command of my body. A scream for help tried to go somewhere but my voice wouldn't come out of my throat. When I felt it was the end, a dew was spat on my face. Two shamans were trying to bring me back with incense and firewater. I took a sharp intake of breath clinging to this side of life. I came back.
A certain strength pushed me towards a hill. The voice screamed, happy at my ascent. I had become a wolf and ran swiftly to meet something divine, another wolf had joined me. Upon reaching the top, we howled at the moon. Scattered all over the sky, matt formulas in the form of golden codes. The mysteries of the universe decoded in numbers. The thresholds of creation, explaining it all to us. Like stars, appearing and disappearing in the dark night. The other wolf and I had finally got the matryoshka effect of life.
That was my second yage ceremony, both times I had lied to my mother. I knew she wouldn't be able to sleep until I returned home and perhaps she would have done her best to convince me not to go. Many of her fears I have carried with me too. The umbilical cord is cut only on one side of the dimensions. So lying had been a ticket to freedom for me. That night I saw her during the chuma. I felt her warmth. The love that came from her moved me to tears. I felt a dagger piercing my chest for the times I had failed to care for her, the times my love for her had fallen short. I felt the life she gave me running through my veins, like the strongest river on the moor. "Why do you deny me," said the voice. "Tell her about me.”
My nephew also suffered from panic attacks but I didn't dare to invite him. After all, it's a very personal journey how we decide to crush or get in contact with glory. Anyhow, panic is a toxic love affair with death. But we die every day at a cellular level. If our cells did not regenerate, we wouldn't even be able to walk. The dust we collect in our homes is 98% the cells saying farewell to our new skin.
My nephew arrived home when I was telling my mum about it. She was so moved that her mouth was still open when he interrupted us saying, "Last night I levitated! I was asleep and suddenly I started to feel like I was floating. I saw my body on the bed and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get back. I thought I had died. My only choice was to give up. When I accepted death, my hands became paws. I climbed a hill with another wolf - you won't believe this, grandma! When we got to the top, we saw ALL the formulas that explain the universe! I understood EVERYTHING! The world is nothing but a matrix that I now know how to program!"
The codes instilled by the plant that night found a way to travel beyond space to the blood of my blood. The illusion of separation had scattered in a minute by means of its DNA. No money in this world will ever be able to steal that knowledge engraved in our blood by the land we belong to.
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With profound awe and love, the A’I people from the Colombian Amazon said farewell to the greatest taita Querubín Queta and his magnificent journey of almost 110 years on this plane, on February 3, 2024. His transition brought rain and storm in the south of Colombia and a bright lighted sky, reminding us what he was: the soothing loving water cleansing our lives. All of us who had the privilege to be resurrected by his love, were guided and opened to the seven directions of the earth hand in hand with him, will deeply miss him. We raise our right hand to the sky and bring our left to the earth, honouring the coincidence that our souls met his, in this version of us. While we keep the promise to continue loving the land that he so cared for and defended from biopiracy 6 and other threats to the jungle, as much as he could; the echo of his laughter will forever pierce every ancestral corner of our hearts. Much light in his highest flight. Tinkunakama 7Abuelo Tigre, until the next sacred chant in the jungle. Pay pay 8
Footnotes
1 Doña Ana Rivera was the first witch I met during my tender first year of existence. Their sons inherited the plant's wisdom and curative skills.
2 Elders to whom respect is due, "father" in the Quichua language.
3 Physical and energetic trance caused by substances external to the body.
4 A vessel for serving sacred brews, formed from the fruit of the calabash tree, a species of flowering plant that is native to Central and South America. Also known as Higüero, Güira, Choca, and many other names. It is a type of calabash tree.
5 Pintar in this context, is to have visions under the influence of power plants. In this case, Ayahuasca.
6 The taita Querubín Queta was part of the commission formed by wise men and women from variou s indigenous peoples to travel to the United States to defend Ayahuasca against the patent imposed by the Californian Henry Miller in 1986. Rice, beans, quinoa, maca among other genetic materials around the globe are threatened under this illegal and colonial practice; together with the knowledge of the indigenous people, who know the use of plants, have created ancient formulas and taught their practices from one generation to another, securing the life and survival of the earth we inhabit.
7 In the indigenous cosmovision we are a constant energetic transformation, therefore in several indigenous languages the concept of "goodbye" does not exist. The Quechua concept Tinkunakama means "until we meet again."
8 From Nasa Yuwe, “thank you”
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Editor note: This text does not aim to be a substitute for medical advice or treatment. We do not hold any legal liability after the use of plant. The process must be supervised by the corresponding authorities. In this case, we recognise the role of Indigenous communities, who are the knowledgeable on the plant and who have carried this wisdom for centuries.