Walking with the Medicine: Reflections on Ayahuasca and Sacred Plant Healing

I’ve always believed that true healing isn’t something that happens in a single moment—it’s something we commit to over and over again. For me, the path to that commitment began in 2020, when the pandemic dismantled much of the life I’d worked so hard to build.

I had spent years doing everything “right.” I lost a significant amount of weight. I was preparing to open a group fitness gym. From the outside, it looked like I was thriving. But underneath, I was battling a deep, unshakable depression. I was tired of trying to outrun my pain with productivity or the next big goal.

I tried everything I knew how to do. I went to therapy, but I felt like I was talking in circles and never actually moving forward. I didn’t have any interest in pharmaceuticals—I didn’t want to numb myself anymore. I was working out regularly, doing all the things that are “supposed” to help, but it still wasn’t touching the heaviness I carried.

Truthfully, I’d already spent a lot of time numbing in my own way. I was drinking heavily in social settings, convincing myself it was just about having fun and being connected. And yes, there were some good memories. But there was also a lot of avoidance—burying the reality of what I didn’t want to face. I’d spend entire weekends hungover, unable to do anything productive, and it slowly started to feel like I was wasting my life.

Early into the pandemic, I gave up drinking completely. My body felt like it was rejecting it. I could feel it as literal poison, holding me back from the clarity and progress I wanted. I knew I couldn’t keep going the way I was going.

What I really needed was to slow down. To sit with myself in stillness. To get quiet enough to hear what was underneath all the noise and the expectations. I needed a different perspective—I knew I needed to explore something beyond the frameworks I’d always been taught.

That curiosity—and desperation—led me to begin working with psilocybin. I had a lot of time to reflect, and during those early journeys, I started to see just how much I was carrying that didn’t belong to me: old stories, shame, perfectionism. But even then, I felt there was something more waiting for me to discover.

In 2021, I sat with Ayahuasca for the first time.

I chose to work with a nondenominational church that blended traditions from Santo Daime, Umbanda, and Yoruba. Though I won’t share the name of the group out of respect for their privacy, I will say this: finding a facilitator you trust is everything. This work is sacred, and it should be held with the utmost care and reverence.

The Preparation
One of the first lessons I learned was that the ceremony doesn’t start when you drink the medicine—it starts long before. Weeks in advance, I began a process of cleansing my body and mind.

I shifted to a clean, mostly plant-based diet and removed caffeine, alcohol, and any substances that could interfere. I created space in my schedule for quiet, reflection, and rest.

I also wrote out 10-15 detailed intentions for each ceremony. The facilitator reviewed them with me to help refine the questions I was bringing to the medicine. Some of those intentions were:

✨ What stands in my way of manifesting joy from within? I wish to experience joy without a need for external experiences so that I lead a life that inspires others.
✨ For my personality type, what sort of approach would work best? Consistency and routines, or letting go of structure and allowing what inspires me daily to dictate my schedule?
✨ What is the meaning behind my chronic back pain? Am I able to release it? Is there a better way to address this?
✨ What is the meaning of my need for perfectionism? Where did this behavior come from and how can I address it so that I can share more authentically?

Even before ceremony, the act of sitting with these questions was healing. I realized how rarely we give ourselves permission to get clear on what we truly want to understand.

The Ceremony
I have worked with both Brazilian and Hawaiian medicine. The Brazilian brew was stronger for me—physically intense and deeply purgative. (Visuals…think Godself by ‘Alex Grey’) The Hawaiian medicine felt softer, but still carried a profound potency.

Many people think Ayahuasca is only about throwing up in a bucket. While purging is common, it can look like many different things:

🌿 Crying
🌿 Laughing
🌿 Yawning
🌿 Shaking
🌿 Going to the bathroom
🌿 Simply releasing thoughts you’ve carried too long

My experiences included all of the above. And while some moments were uncomfortable, they were never without purpose.

The medicine brought me into visions and feelings that words can barely capture. At times, it was like being dissolved into the fabric of the universe—a place where everything I thought I knew about myself was gently stripped away. In that space, I was able to see my patterns with stunning clarity: the ways I tried to control everything, the places I still clung to fear, the old grief stored in my body.

The Insights
One of the most powerful lessons was that everything is love. We hear this phrase so often that it almost loses meaning. But when you feel it—viscerally, undeniably—it changes you forever.

I also came to understand that while suffering is part of being human, we often choose to stay in it out of habit. I saw that I’d spent years believing it was my job to fix or save everyone around me. The medicine taught me that everyone is on their own path. Their lessons are not mine to carry.

It was a liberation I didn’t even know I needed.

Reflections on My Intentions

✨ What stands in my way of manifesting joy from within?
I realized that so much of my heaviness came from holding onto old stories and beliefs that no longer served me. The medicine showed me how tightly I was gripping pain from the past—stories about who I was and what I deserved. I learned that the only way to make space for joy was to practice real forgiveness. Not just toward others, but toward myself. Because carrying resentment and shame was only ever hurting me. Letting go felt like finally putting down a weight I’d been dragging for years.

✨ For my personality type, what sort of approach would work best? Consistency and routines, or letting go of structure and allowing what inspires me daily to dictate my schedule?
This is one that still comes up for me often. I learned that discipline is important—I do thrive with some structure. But I’m also not built to force myself into the same rigid routine every single day. What feels best is tuning into my own schedule, especially my menstrual cycle, and honoring what phase I’m in. Giving myself permission to be inspired, to follow my energy, and to rest when I need it has been the most sustainable approach.

✨ What is the meaning behind my chronic back pain? Am I able to release it? Is there a better way to address this?
While the car accident I was in back in 2010 shaped so much of my physical experience, I learned that the deeper layer of my back pain was unprocessed grief. There were so many tears I never let myself cry, so much sadness I never acknowledged. In ceremony, I felt those emotions surface in waves. Releasing them didn’t make the pain vanish overnight, but it helped me understand that healing isn’t only about the body—it’s about letting our emotions move through us too.

✨ What is the meaning of my need for perfectionism? Where did this behavior come from and how can I address it so that I can share more authentically?
This is still something I work on every day. What I came to see is that the harshest judgment doesn’t come from the world—it comes from within me. My own inner critic has always been the loudest voice. Learning to soften that judgment, to speak to myself with compassion, is ongoing work. But now I catch it faster. I can remind myself that perfection isn’t required to be worthy or to make an impact.

These were only the intentions I brought into one ceremony. In total, I sat in 12 ceremonies over the course of a year. That might sound like a lot to some people, but for me, it felt necessary. I was ready to keep peeling back the layers of conditioning, to look at every place where I was still hiding or holding on.

The last two times I sat, I could feel that I had already “lifted the veil.” The messages were clear: it was time to focus on integration. If I kept going back, it would have been less about healing and more about avoiding the work of embodying what I’d learned.

It’s been over two years since my last ceremony. I still feel like I’m integrating the lessons. That doesn’t mean I’ll never sit again, but for now, I’m clear that these experiences have profoundly changed me. They shifted my perspective on healing, gave me new tools and outlets, and helped me move out of the heavy depression I could never quite explain.

Integration
This work doesn’t end when the ceremony closes. Integration is where the transformation truly roots itself.

After each ceremony, I had follow-up calls with my facilitator and spent time in community. I journaled, I walked in nature, I prioritized slowing down.

I began practicing presence in ways I hadn’t before—really listening to people, letting go of small irritations, checking in with myself before reacting.

And looking back, I see now that the medicine was preparing me for things I couldn’t have imagined. Within months, my gym business was stolen from me. Shortly after, my house burned down, and I lost everything I owned.

The old version of me would have shattered. But because of this work, I had built an unshakable foundation inside myself. I knew I would be okay. I knew that even in the rubble, there was something sacred unfolding.

Final Reflections
I want to be clear: this path is not for everyone. Ayahuasca is not a trend or a quick fix. It is a sacred medicine that demands respect, humility, and deep personal responsibility.

If you feel called to it, take your time. Find a facilitator you trust. Make sure you are mentally and emotionally prepared. Get clearance from your doctor.

This work can be hard. It will shake things loose. But for me, it has been worth every moment.

If I had to sum it up in a few words, I’d say this work is magical, profound, and otherworldly.

But mostly—it is a return to the truth that has always been inside us: everything is love.

Peace & power to you
💜 Liz