A Living Death

My encounter with the ancient ritual of Ayahuasca ceremony.

Originally published in Santa Cruz Waves Magazine

Help, I say silently. Or maybe out loud. It’s hard to know for certain. And though I am in the middle of an ayahuasca ceremony, it’s hard to know exactly where I am—not only in relation to the door, but also to my body. I’ve lost track of it, and I’m terrified it might urinate or vomit or do something equally horrifying all over the floor of the temple and the 20 other participants inside of it. I’m on the verge of a full-blown panic attack when several pairs of hands lift me up and carry me outside.

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