The Ceremony: The Sacred Encounter

The ceremony is ultimately that encounter with oneself. It's the encounter with the plants, with the person who facilitates this sacred work.

In different territories, the guardians of the plants receive different names. In some Kichwa lineages of Ecuador they are called pahui or pahi, which can be translated as healer or medicine person. Among the Shuar people of the Ecuadorian and Peruvian Amazon, the medicine person is called uwishin; those who have the power to see beyond the ordinary world and work with the sacred plants, particularly natem (ayahuasca).

In the Peruvian Amazon they speak of ayahuasqueros, curanderos, vegetalistas; those who have learned from the plant teachers through years of dieta and dedication.

In the Andean highlands, the Quechua-speaking peoples call their medicine carriers paqo or alto mesayoq; those who work with the spirits of the mountains (apus) and Pachamama, often working with sacred plants like coca and huachuma (San Pedro). Some also use the word hampiq for healer.

Each word carries with it a way of understanding the sacred, a different cosmovision, a unique relationship with the plant world and the invisible forces that guide healing.

And here it's important to understand something: each shaman is different, each medicine is different. No two ceremonies are the same. Each facilitator brings their own lineage, their own way of working, their own songs and their own energy. That's why it's so important to feel who you're going to do this work with, because you're going to be in a very vulnerable, very open space.

Listening to the Order of the Invisible

Being in ceremony is not just "taking medicine." It's beginning to listen to the order of the invisible. It's entering a different time, a different space. The rules of the everyday world no longer apply in the same way. Here there is another kind of logic, another way of knowing.

What the ceremony teaches us is to learn to balance things, to learn to have an order, a design. There is a structure in the ceremony that is not arbitrary. It has a beginning, a development, a closing. There's a moment to take the medicine, a moment for silence, a moment for songs, a moment to share.

But above all, the ceremony teaches us to trust, to let go. To surrender to something greater than ourselves. And this, is not easy. We live in a world where we always want to be in control, where we want to know what's going to happen, how it's going to be. The ceremony invites us to leave that control at the door.

The Songs

In a real ceremony, the song is not decoration: it is navigation. The icaros, the ceremonial songs or anent as the Shuar people call them, are not just pretty music. They are medicine themselves. Each song opens a type of space. Each song has an intention, a frequency, a specific energy.

These songs are living forces. Among the Shuar, the anent are often received through dreams, visions, or directly from the plant teachers during dieta. They're not casually learned; they're cultivated, sometimes kept sacred and private, passed down through families or given directly by the spirits. Each uwishin, each facilitator, carries their own medicine songs that they've gathered throughout their lifetime of working with the plants.

The facilitators use these songs to guide the journey, to open doors, to close doors when necessary, to accompany difficult moments, to celebrate moments of opening. They are like sonic maps that help us navigate unknown territories of our own consciousness. They can heal, protect, call in specific energies, or shift the entire atmosphere of the ceremony.

And each silence too. The spaces between songs are not empty. They are opportunities for what has been moved to settle, for you to hear your own internal voice without interference.

When you're in the middle of an intense experience and you hear the facilitator's song, it can be like a lighthouse in the darkness, a reminder that you're not alone, that there's someone holding you, guiding you.

The Journey: The Many Faces of the Plant

During the ceremony there is always a period of reflection, of discomfort, of purification. There are moments where we're going to process things we haven't wanted to see or that we haven't been able to see until that moment. And that can be intense, it can be challenging.

The medicine doesn't always speak. Sometimes it waits. Sometimes it confronts. Sometimes it embraces. One has to allow each face to appear. You can't negotiate with the medicine telling it "only show me the pretty parts." The medicine is wise and shows you exactly what you need to see, even if it's not what you wanted to see. My teacher Tsensak says, "La medicina con la mano izquierda te da la hiel y con la mano derecha la miel"—the medicine with the left hand gives you the bitter, and with the right hand the honey. This is the nature of true healing. The medicine will give you both the bitter and the sweet, and both are necessary. The bitterness purifies, cleanses, shows you what needs to be released. The sweetness nourishes, embraces, reminds you of your light.

One night the plant might be sweet and loving, embrace you like a mother. Another night it might be a strict teacher that confronts you with your patterns, with your lies, with the ways you've been betraying yourself. And another night it might simply wait for you in silence, observing you, seeing if you're willing to do the work without pyrotechnics, without spectacle.

Healing is not always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes it confronts us with our shadows, with our fears, with our repetitive patterns that no longer serve us. But it's precisely in that discomfort where the deepest medicine is.

The idea is to be able to bring all of that to light in order to integrate it, harmonize it. It's not about fighting against what comes, but about receiving it, looking at it, letting it move through us.

The Ceremony as Mirror

The ceremony is a mirror, and that mirror doesn't ask if you're ready. It only shows what you already are.

You can't fool the medicine. You can't show up with a mask and expect the plant not to see it. The ceremony has a way of undressing you, of removing all the layers you've built, all the stories you've told yourself about who you are, and showing you the raw truth of your being.

And that can be beautiful and terrifying at the same time. Because sometimes what we are is more luminous than we dare to believe. And sometimes what we are includes dark parts that we've been denying for years.

The gift of this mirror is that it doesn't judge. It simply shows. And in that showing, there's an invitation to radical honesty, to the acceptance of all that you are.

The Container

The ceremony creates what we call a sacred container. It's a protected space, a space where we can be completely vulnerable without judgment. The facilitator, the songs, the intention of the group, all of this contributes to creating that safe space where healing can occur.

That's why it's so important to respect that space. Arrive on time, follow the facilitator's instructions, maintain silence when asked, respect the process of others. Each person in the circle is living their own experience, their own journey, and we all deserve that respect.

The Purge: Physical and Energetic Release

In indigenous wisdom, particularly among the Shuar and other Amazonian peoples, they understand that emotions get stuck in our stomach, in our belly. This is where we hold fear, trauma, anger, sadness, things we've swallowed down instead of expressing or processing. That's why plants like ayahuasca and guayusa are used for deep cleansing. The purge isn't just physical; it's moving these stored emotions, these energetic densities that have been lodged in our body.

Modern science is now catching up to what indigenous peoples have known for millennia. Western medicine now recognizes what they call the "enteric nervous system" the gut has over 100 million neurons and produces many of the same neurotransmitters as the brain, including about 95% of the body's serotonin. They literally call it the second brain. Traditional Chinese Medicine has also long recognized the deep connection between the digestive system and our emotional states, understanding that the stomach and spleen process not just food, but thoughts and emotions as well.

So when you purge in ceremony, you're releasing on multiple levels—physical toxins, yes, but also emotional baggage, old stories, stuck energy, things that have been weighing you down sometimes for years.

There's no need to be afraid of the purge. It's part of the process. And curiously, after purging, very often comes an incredible clarity, a lightness, a profound relief. It's like you've made space inside yourself—space for new energy, new perspectives, new ways of being.

Different Types of Experiences

Not all experiences are visual. Sometimes people expect to see colors, visions, sacred geometries. And yes, that can happen. But it can also be a completely emotional experience, or bodily, or profound insights without images. Sometimes, just pure ancestral wisdom.

Each experience is perfect for what you need in that moment. There are no "better" or "worse" experiences. The medicine gives you exactly what you need, not always what you want.

Breath: Your Anchor

Breath is your anchor in ceremony. When things get intense, when you feel like you're getting lost, return to the breath. Inhale, exhale. Slow, conscious. The breath brings you back to the present, reminds you that you're okay, that you're safe, that you can handle this.

The Role of Fear and Courage

It's normal to be afraid before and during the ceremony. Fear is human. But courage is not the absence of fear, it's doing the work despite the fear.

When you feel fear during ceremony, breathe. Remember your intention. Trust the process. Trust the facilitator. Trust the medicine. And above all, trust yourself and your capacity to navigate whatever comes.

Staying with What Comes

One of the greatest gifts of the ceremony is learning to stay. To stay with the uncomfortable, to stay with the difficult, to stay with the unknown. In everyday life, when something makes us uncomfortable, we flee, we distract ourselves with our phone, with food, with work, with whatever.

In ceremony you can't flee. And that is medicine. You learn that you can be with all that you are, with all that you feel, and keep breathing, keep trusting, keep opening.

The Medicine Opens Doors, But Doesn't Cross the Threshold For You

Here comes something fundamental that many people don't understand: the medicine can open doors, but it never crosses the threshold for you. That is integration.

The ceremony shows you. It reveals to you. It opens you. But the work of taking what you saw and applying it in your life, of changing the patterns you identified, of honoring the commitments you made to yourself in that expanded space—that work is yours.

The master plant can take you to the door of your own transformation, but you are the one who has to decide to cross it each day, in each decision, in each moment of your daily life.

The Community of the Circle

Although each person has their own journey, there's something powerful about doing this work in community. The circle holds you. The collective energy amplifies the healing. And when you share afterwards, you realize that you're not alone in your struggles, in your fears, in your processes.

There's a connection that forms between people who do ceremony together. It's an invisible but real bond, a mutual recognition of "we saw each other in our most vulnerable moment, and we honored each other."

The Moment After: The Sacred Silence

When the ceremony formally ends, there's a transition period that is sacred. There's no need to rush out, to talk, to return to "normality." Give yourself time. Stay in silence if you need to. Process. Breathe. Allow everything you experienced to settle in your being.

Sometimes the most profound revelations come in this post-ceremony space, when you're already coming out of the journey but still in that expanded state of consciousness.

Honoring the Process

In the end, the ceremony is an act of courage, of self-love, of commitment to your own healing and evolution. It's choosing to look at yourself honestly, it's choosing to feel what you've been avoiding, it's choosing to open yourself to the possibility of transformation.

And always remember: the medicine is wise. It will give you exactly what you need at the exact moment you need it. Your job is simply to show up with respect, with humility, with an open heart.

Trust the process. Trust the plants. Trust the guardians. Trust yourself.

At Sacred Seed Sanctuary, we create safe and sacred ceremonial spaces where you can do this profound healing work. For more information about our ceremonies, contact us.