Into the Jungle I Go, to Lose My Mind and Find My Soul

This title is inspired by a quote often attributed to John Muir. I have replaced “forest” with “jungle” for my own journey.

I used to have a pretty soul-snatching fear of spiders.

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As a kid, I would line up all of my stuffed animals where my bed met the wall, fully believing they would animate to fight any intruding spider encroaching on their vulnerable sleeping princess, me.

Sure, my nightly prayers began with my loved ones, but they always ended with my own childlike mantra of asking for protection from any “four-legged, six-legged, and especially eight-legged insect.”

I developed a kind of Spidey Sense by adulthood. If there was an arachnid within six meters of my person, I knew it. I’m not sure if I had become visually sensitive to their movement or if it was a symptom of scanning every environment for threats.

But my response was consistent: Freeze. Flight. Fight. Kill. Kill. Kill.

The only other natural predators I had to contend with in my soft, comfortable life were mosquitos. They loved me. When I used to drink quite a bit, I convinced myself that these little frantic bloodsuckers were getting a buzz from my alcohol-tinged blood. I could respect that.

But then I quit drinking. And they did not follow my lead.

So imagine the pushback I received in 2023 when I announced that I would be going to an Ayahuasca retreat in the Amazon rainforest for a few months.

“You’ll get eaten alive!”

“What about all of the spiders?”

They were right to be concerned for the version of me that they knew. But something inside me wouldn’t allow the fear to take root and convince me to stay in my depression bubble of comfort. I knew I had to make this trip. I knew that I had to drink this sacred medicine and that I needed to drink it in the Amazon.

Had I ever left the United States? No.

Was that going to stop me? Also, no.

You see, I’ve never been an adventurous person. At least not while sober. I was a proud Type A personality who found her identity in her job and her worth woven into her productivity. I was rigid, strict. There would be no fun until all of the work was done. And let’s be honest, is work ever really done?

I would schedule a Do Nothing Day a month in advance. These days consisted of pizza and a book on the couch, shower optional. Although I had meticulously planned for this day and completed all of my tasks in advance, I sat there with a pit of guilt in my stomach. It was never as fulfilling or rewarding as I had dreamt.

The incredulous faces of those I told were well-warranted.

I bought a 40-liter hiking backpack and filled it with makeup, moisturizer, perfume, jeans, hiking boots, and socks. Rookie mistake.

I flew into Lima for a few days and my first experience was the traffic. I was equal parts terrified and impressed. The drivers missed each other by centimeters. There didn’t seem to be any road rules that everyone followed, and still, I never saw an accident. It was then that I began to wonder if the laws in the states gave drivers a false sense of security, creating more opportunity for accidents. Drivers in Lima had to be fully aware at all times, never trusting the driver next to them to stop at a light, stay in their lane, or signal before turning.

The people were kind and patient with foreigners, with many knowing at least a few words of English. The ceviche was mind-blowing. The mountains were handsome when the fog lifted.

It was the first time I saw the Pacific Ocean. I told you I wasn’t adventurous.

(Pro Tip: Stay in Barranco or Miraflores when in Lima. The street art is stunning, and there is no shortage of incredible restaurants in any price bracket. Peru is one of the world’s best culinary destinations. Uber makes it easy and fairly cheap to get around, although walking affords you unique opportunities to embrace the art and architecture. Just stay aware when on foot, pedestrians do not have the right-of-way.)

But it was time to make my way to the jungle.

The only way to arrive in Iquitos is by air or water, it is not accessible by road. Flights from Lima to Iquitos are affordable, especially if you buy the ticket in advance. I’m usually not fussed about my seating on a plane, but I always opt for the window seat when landing in Iquitos. The bird’s-eye view of the jungle and river truly inspire awe and are the perfect introduction to la selva (the jungle).

(Pro Tip: Star Peru offers discounted flights from Lima to Iquitos and includes one free checked bag up to 23kg. The drawback is that the flights are not direct, landing at a small airport in Tarapoto or Chiclayo to pick up or drop off passengers. This only adds a little extra time to your travel, which I find worth the savings.)

You can feel the difference in temperature as soon as the plane lands. Prepare to strip a few layers. I genuinely love the heat and humidity, and so do my skin and hair. But it can require some acclimation for some.

The Iquitos airport is tiny. One baggage carousel and one bathroom for each gender in the arrivals area. I view the simplicity as a huge positive.

But then you walk outside. Prepare to be bombarded by tuktuk and taxi drivers trying to get your attention and overcharge you for a ride. This is a nonissue for our retreat guests. Your airport pickup will always be arranged and your driver awaiting your arrival.

(Pro Tip: A tuktuk shouldn’t cost you more than 3-10 soles around town. That’s $0.89 - $2.97 USD. From the airport, the cost is a little higher. Most tuktuk drivers will quote around 30 soles, or $8.92 USD. You can talk them down, don’t be afraid to walk away. Taxis will cost more.)

Our driver was named Christian, and he greeted us quickly, showing us the way to his tuktuk. These common vehicles are also called motocaros and are basically the front half of a motorcycle affixed to a covered seat for passengers.

He drove us beyond the city limits, where traffic and crowded concrete buildings gave way to ramshackle huts and fruit stands. Eventually, we were surrounded by lush, dense trees on both sides. The air grew cleaner and a touch cooler. After an hour, Christian left the paved highway and turned down a sandy road where various palm trees towered above us. The road was bumpy as the frequent heavy rain could wash parts of it away. But Christian navigated the challenges expertly.

We arrived at the gates of the retreat and entered. As we puttered deeper inside, the canopy of trees above provided immediate shade and we were greeted by a swarm of electric blue morpho butterflies.

Something inside me exhaled. The buzzing in my body fell silent. I hadn’t even realized it was a constant companion until that moment, when it stopped.

It felt like we had entered a giant Faraday cage, the trees shielding us from any intrusion of the outside world.

Was I okay? Had my spirit gone deaf?

Or was this what nervous system regulation felt like?

Could that even be possible? I had not yet taken a sip of Ayahuasca.

Little did I know until then the magic of the jungle. A place where a troop of tiny monkeys swings through in the afternoon and no forecasting app can predict the weather. A place where you forget that notifications for texts, emails, and comments even exist. A place where night falls early beneath the majestic trees, ushering in the evening symphony of crickets and toads.

We were greeted by the shaman, his family, and a posse of dogs who guided us on a tour of the spacious property. We meandered past the dining room with its attached kitchen and by the Main House, where one can sip hot tea in a hammock while reading a book. We continued down a path that wove past a collection of shower stalls open to the tree canopy above.

And then we arrived at my tambo, a small traditional jungle hut built of wood with a roof thatched from leaves. The room was enclosed by green-colored screens, and inside were two twin beds, built-in shelving, and a desk with a stool. On the desk were a fresh candle, a lighter, an ashtray, and a few mapacho cigarettes neatly arranged.

We continued on the tour to view the swimming pond, the ceremonial maloca, and the shaman’s house, but I was eager to return to my tambo to rest.

That night, I was meeting Ayahuasca and beginning my first plant dieta with Ayahuma. I would need a nap.

This day was November 19, 2023.

As I write this, the two year anniversary is only three days away.

The jungle has continued to be my safe haven. The place where my internal chaos quiets and allows me to become curious about the origins of it. Where I can sit down with all of my broken bits scattered about me, eager for me to piece them back together with the guidance of Ayahuasca and the jungle.

And the spiders?

They’re not so scary anymore.

They’re just part of the rhythm of the jungle, a small piece of the chaos and wonder I’ve come to call home.