How I Left My Own Multi-Million Dollar SAAS Company to Work With Ayahuasca
For me I had my “aha moment” at a young age. I started asking questions about life after death because of experiences I had as a child. One of my earliest memories is of my mother waking me up in the morning tenderly saying “Tommy, Toommmmy, time to get up my little chicken!” I distinctly remember thinking to myself as I woke, “Who’s Tommy? Is that my name now?” As the memories of this dream life faded I got out of bed and one by one, had to remember the details of my current life. Little did I know, this feeling of mystery about my identity and existence would later lead me to a path of exploring plant medicines, and directly shift the course of my adult life.
Growing up I often asked adults questions about life after death. The more I asked, the more I began to see the adults I was asking in a new light; I saw some of them afraid, others lying (perhaps to protect me) and worst of all, some of them were just plain lazy thinkers… regurgitating some answers that they themselves hadn’t even questioned. Of all the answers I got, the only one that felt well-considered was my father’s answer, although it wasn’t the answer I was looking for.
My father was and is, an atheist. I’m quite sure he was the only person to give my younger self an honest answer. Death has a funny way of making some people really uncomfortable, but my father didn’t beat around the bush. He told me straight. He said:
“ I find it hard to believe that a big man in the sky is watching over us Tommy. Religion, well i’m not a fan of it either. Religion has been the cause for more bloodshed than anything else in history. I honestly don’t know what happens when we die son. I don’t think anyone really knows. All you can do is live the best you can. If you do that, you can die at peace and if there’s something after, great.”
Fast forward a couple decades, I had put the spiritual quest aside. Modern life had enticed me to pursue material wealth and social status. By my early 20’s I had become steeped in the cultural values of my social setting — self indulgence, competitive manipulation and narcissism. As a college student studying business, I was at the top of my class, a regular guest on talk radio and a partner in what was soon to be one of the fastest growing companies in Canada. I was the picture perfect product of my middle class upbringing and college education. A real fast talker, a quick learner and a 100% completely self-absorbed asshole!
It was around the same time that I started drinking Ayahuasca initially out of curiosity about past lives (due to my experiences as a child) but also to try and kick some bad habits; what I now jokingly refer to as my “nightclub habits” (I had a stake in small nightclub in my early 20’s.) My life may have looked awesome on the outside, due to me and my business partners shared success. By western standards, I was doing really well, but on the inside, it felt like hell. I didn’t know who was the real me, or what I truly wanted in life; it felt like I was living someone else’s idea of success.
After having drank Ayahuasca with mixed results both with mestizo shamans and on my own. I heard from a friend about their profoundly life changing experiences at a traditional Shipibo Ayahuasca center in Peru (Caya Shobo). I could feel somehow that this was what I had been searching for. So I took the leap.
Initially my Ayahuasca ceremonies were of a more physical nature, lots of purging and lots of memories coming up on repeat, like the medicine was insisting I reflect on them. I went in like many, hoping for the crazy psychedelic light-show, or some wild out of body experience… Eventually, I would learn, as my teacher says; “Ayahuasca is a school.” I guess I had to get through kindergarten first.
I remember one early ceremony where I saw memories of when I had treated others poorly in a two hour long montage. At first I thought it was some sort of cruel punishment, some sort of never ending purgatory roast of Tom, in the style of “the ghost of Christmas past.” It continued, dragging on and on tormenting me, until finally it clicked. I realized that somewhere along the line, I had turned off the part of myself that was capable of empathy. In order to turn that part of myself back on, I had to feel all the pain I had prevented myself from feeling. The montage continued until finally I gave up the fight, let go, and cried. Probably for the first time in years. Surrender as I would learn, is a vital key to the process of healing with this medicine.
After coming to the realization that I had been living as a borderline sociopath for most of my adult life (not an easy pill to swallow) my office, which was populated with other like-minded sociopaths, was increasingly difficult to navigate. They weren’t all like me, but I would say the majority shared my ailments of hyper-competitive unconsciousness. For years after, I would go to ceremonies trying to heal and become a better person while my business partners went the opposite direction, deeper into material obsession and disconnectedness.
After about two years attending retreats as often as I could, I was feeling more and more harmony within my core — with myself and in my family and in general with my life, my health had done a 180 and my “nightclub habits” had been exorcised from my life. It was then that I had a really powerful ceremonial experience that brought me an incredible, and lasting sense of connectedness and heightened sensitivity to energies around me.
I had been no stranger to getting seemingly telepathic messages in ceremony: Someone needed a bucket to puke in, and before they moved or said a word someone else would pass them one; or someone needed help while totally silent and the shaman’s helper would walk over and ask them if they were ok. Most of these I chalked up to keen observation (which is still a feat considering ceremonies are in near total darkness.)This time was different. This was more than a telepathic message..
Ayahuasca has levels, or dimensions. I like to think of them as frequencies, like musical notes, if you will. Often times a ceremony will start low and wind its way up a few dimensions. On rare occasions, depending on the willingness and readiness of the participants the medicine goes all the way up to what I can only describe as “a white room.”
The first time I experienced this white room my grandfather was on his deathbed. I knew he was going to die while I was away during ceremony, not because the doctors said so, but because I had sensed it. My aunt also sensed it. We visited with him before I left and I said my goodbyes. She stayed and I went to the ayahuasca ceremony on the other side of the continent.
I was sitting in ceremony, about an hour and a half in, when I heard an internal voice clear as day say: “who is brave enough?” I began to raise my hand instinctively and to my surprise, I could see two others began to raise theirs in the dim moonlight. Maybe the medicine was talking to all of us in that moment, or maybe it was just my perception and the message was really just for me. “Well, here goes nothing” I thought as I went up and asked for a very large second cup.
About 20 minutes later my grandfather appeared in my visions. He didn’t say anything, but he stood by me. A white horse also appeared and the energy immediately jumped from what might have been the third lowest note on the musical scale to the second highest audible note. It felt like absolute torture! Every nerve in my body screamed in agony. My thoughts sped up to the point where I could hardly follow. Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, the white horse reared as if to say “ready or not, here we go!”
The energy mounted even higher. I didn’t think this was possible! I couldn’t see, hear or even think. Everything was white. My body ached and my muscles tensed. I didn’t know how much I could endure, I just wanted it to stop!
Then it relented, for only a moment it dropped back down the previously excruciating but at least conscious space I had been moments earlier. I remember thinking to myself “You have really done it this time Tom!!!” I remember an odd smell, and thought it might have been my brain cooking (which is funny now) but let me assure you that at that time it was terrifying. This continued on for two hours, going up and down in some sort of soul stretching stretching procedure. All the while my grandpa standing beside me, and the white horse working me over very thoroughly.
Things were different after that. I guess you could say that was the beginning. Describing it for others is difficult, after that I was different. I guess it’s like having another sense. Now I can step into a room and immediately feel things I couldn’t before. Kind of like when you step outside, you immediately know if it’s hot or cold.
It was tough enough embracing Ayahuasca’s first teachings of how to be open and empathetic again… This was a whole other level. Talk about a learning curve! Just staying focused with all that extra information can be daunting. But as with any other learning curve, as time goes by I’m finding my stride, understanding how to have this energetic sensitivity but not feel overwhelmed with it. I find it somehow helps me be more patient, more compassionate and for sure more clear in my choices of what I say and when. My wife and family definitely thank me for it.
The second call was even more fantastic, but I’ll save that for next time where I’ll write about how I found the maestro I wanted to learn from at Caya Shobo and the first time I helped in ceremony.
Read Part II here.
