Ayahuasca Felt: A Somatic Encounter with the Medicine
The experience of passing through an ayahuasca ceremony is always a long journey across several dimensions, yet only a few of them are accessible to our description.
One of these dimensions is the bodily one, which receives little attention, both in specialized literature and the books. Here I deliberately attempt to address it using terms drawn from body-oriented psychotherapy—something I did not encounter even once during the entire two years I spent living in the Amazonian selva. Although many curanderos most likely intuitively understand much of what will be described below, it would simply not occur to them to explain it this way, due to cultural differences in how these processes are perceived.
So, if we look at the ayahuasca ceremony through the dimensions of our physical and astral bodies, we will undoubtedly see that the astral body—the body of emotions and dreams—becomes extraordinarily mobile. Of course, it cannot truly leave us, yet at times it does seem to create its own double and travel far beyond the boundaries of the maloca. Considerable attention is given to this in the curanderos’ own descriptions of ceremonies.
What happens to our physical body during the ceremony, however, tends to remain outside the field of careful observation, or else is interpreted superficially. And yet ayahuasca may be the only entheogen that works with such intensity and intimacy upon our most precious vessel.
The human body and its energy holding patterns can be mapped in many ways. Wilhelm Reich did this work long ago, and the seven zones he identified still offer a simple way of understanding muscular armor. Reich described in great detail what blockages in each of these zones signify and how to work with them. These blocks exist, to varying degrees, in every one of us. Moreover, they do not merely restrict us—they also serve an organic protective function, without which we would quite literally collapse at our own feet.
The issue lies elsewhere: these blocks can become excessively rigid, creating imbalance, stagnation, and, as a consequence, a loss of connection with parts of ourselves—and ultimately with the energy of love and the capacity to experience orgasmic pleasure from life itself.
While the medicine works with the body as an integrated whole, it remains valuable to distinguish the specific zones and processes through which it acts, as each person experiences them with varying intensity.
Thus, there are seven possible blocks we carry within ourselves as unconscious ways of regulating sensitivity: the ocular block, the jaw, the throat, the chest, the diaphragm, the abdomen, and the pelvis.
The ocular block is associated with an unwillingness to see the truth, a denial of one’s own feelings, and a deep undercurrent of mistrust and control. This block encompasses the area of the eyes, the forehead, the back of the head, and the bridge of the nose. It may manifest as a tense or empty gaze, narrowed and squinting eyes, mental fog, or twitching eyelids.
The most powerful way the ocular block is released is, of course, through tears. During ceremony, they may appear in various combinations together with other releases. But quite often they simply begin to flow on their own. Most commonly this happens at the very beginning of the ceremony (since release always moves from top to bottom). Many years ago, this was my first area of work, and so every one of my ceremonies began with unstoppable crying that was not emotionally grounded in any way. Tears would simply pour from my eyes; there was a slight burning sensation, the sinuses would become congested—but there was neither sorrow nor joy. Pure physiology. And yet after these tears, my eyes felt weightless and more vivid.
The jaw blocks aggression, strong feelings, requests for help, crying— all unspoken words and emotions that have already been recognized but not voiced. It manifests through a clenched jaw, teeth grinding during sleep, difficulty in self-expression, and various dependencies (food, smoking, and so on). The jaw block is one of the most common, rigid, and painfully resistant to intervention in the body-oriented therapist’s office. It is shaped not only by childhood trauma, but also by cultural and social conditioning. For this reason, almost everyone encounters it during ceremony. The medicine works with this block in a completely different way than therapists do. The lower jaw relaxes to such an extent that it becomes almost impossible to hold it in place. It seems to melt downward from the face, often accompanied by abundant salivation.
The jaw block is connected to the pelvic block. As is well known, when lovers kiss, the opening of the mouth is mirrored below, as the pelvic region fills with blood. Accordingly, during ceremony, alongside salivation in the oral cavity, a similar, metaphorical “salivation” often occurs in the sexual organs of women.
At first, yawning appears—strong, deep, all-pervading. Then the jaw relaxes, grows heavy, flows downward together with the chin, and becomes generously lubricated with saliva. This may be accompanied by mild or sometimes more pronounced vibrations in the area of the chin or lower lip - a true sign of the jaw block releasing itself.
If in the jaw we block what we have already consciously recognized but cannot yet articulate, then in the throat block our feelings and emotions have not even reached the level of understanding. As in the previous blocks, anger and protest may become lodged here—but so can love. This block manifests as stiffness in the neck, a suppressed voice, coughing, or the sensation of a lump in the throat.
In traditional body-oriented therapy this block is not given as much attention as, for example, the chest or diaphragmatic blocks. In the shamanic medicine, however, it is of immense importance—along with the “periphery” of this zone, namely, our voice. The throat and neck are among the most delicate and sensitive areas of the body. This zone is the primary conduit of energy from the heart to the head. Here, feelings can become blocked, never reaching the mouth or the eyes—or never finding their way into words or awareness.
During ceremony, this area of the body undergoes a profoundly deep, and often sweet, release. Physiologically, it is experienced as a numbness of the vocal cords, which gradually gives way to a sensation of radiating warmth in the throat area; the cords themselves become hot and unusually elastic. The throat opens and breathes. The vocal range expands by at least an octave and a half. Singing during ceremony brings immense pleasure and takes place through the entire body rather than through the vocal cords alone. Yet it is the throat that conducts this current of energy, having undergone a deep release.
The chest block is considered one of the most important in any spiritual practice—and rightly so, for it is here that our most powerful generator of electromagnetic energy is localized. It encompasses the chest, shoulders, and shoulder blades. This is where our deepest feelings are held: love, sorrow, trust, intimacy. When this block is constricted, it is felt as heaviness in the chest, emptiness, shallow breathing, and a difficulty with openness at certain moments.
What happens to this zone during ceremony is always an all-encompassing sensory experience—orgasmic in the most cosmic sense of the word. The ribcage burns with such intensity that it feels as though a fire could be lit upon it. Moreover, one can distinctly sense both the force of this burning and its vast reach, stretching far past the boundaries of the maloca. At the same time, the arms and hands —being the primary periphery of the chest block—also become hot. They literally begin to ring, sensing the etheric energy of space as if almost palpable.
Because energy moves from bottom to top, it is often the release of the heart that amplifies sensations in the upper zones: trembling of the jaw, tears, the fluttering of the eyelids. Here tears always come with deep feelings, and laughter may come too.
Body-oriented therapists pay particular attention to the next block, known as the diaphragmatic block, which encompasses the solar plexus and the upper ribs.
It conditionally divides the body into two parts—upper and lower—which, in a deeper interpretation, correspond to want and must, the unconscious and the conscious, the animal and the human, pleasure and morality, orgasm and love. Conflict in this zone is ubiquitous for the modern person of Western civilization. It is therefore unsurprising that its release can be particularly difficult, and the body’s most effective instrument for this process is intense vomiting.
Speculations that vomiting during ceremony only serves to cleanse the stomach or expel energetic entities are entirely unfounded. Anyone with experience of ceremonies knows that for some people vomiting is unbearably difficult and brings great torment no matter the length of their prior diet. All gagging and vomiting reflexes during ceremonies (as well as during subsequent procedures) primarily engage with this very block—the one that allows us to breathe fully, both literally and metaphorically, and to conduct vital force freely through the body.
Nine years ago, in my first ceremony, I vomited with fierce, uncontrollable spasms, though my stomach yielded nothing but water. I will never forget that first breath afterward.
The next block encompasses the abdomen and lower back. Here, impulses of “I want” that rise from the pelvic area can become blocked at the diaphragm. A tense abdomen, a sore lower back, and digestive issues are, among other things, manifestations of blockages in this area. It is not hard to see that spasms of the internal organs and bowel movements during ceremony are not merely processes of physical cleansing—they also reflect the release of this block. This zone can also manifest through an incredible spectrum of bodily sensations in the abdominal region, so intense that they can even provoke anxiety and fear. The abdomen is intimately connected to our sense of basic security.
Finally, the pelvic block encompasses the pelvis, hips, and buttocks. This is where our sexuality, joy, aggression, and vitality are stored. A blocked pelvis may appear as a profound sense of disconnection from the world around you, difficulties with intimacy and orgasm, tension in the pelvic area, cold feet. Many pseudo-adepts of Kundalini yoga believe that activating energy here brings profound liberation. However, as my cherished mystic-philosopher Sri Aurobindo, as well as Reich, emphasized, true release should occur from top to bottom, not the other way around. Otherwise, emotional vortices blocked for years rise from the bottom upward, often producing unpredictable effects: loss of center, and sometimes even a temporary flirtation with madness.
During ceremony, the work with the energies of the pelvic block is always felt very intensely. Many participants describe “dancing legs.” Curanderos tend to interpret this mythologically—as the spirit of the medicine dancing—while others prefer a transpersonal perspective, suggesting it resembles a regression to an infantile state, when a baby kicks and wriggles its legs. Without fully endorsing or rejecting either view, I want to stress that this is exactly how the pelvic block begins to release, together with its peripheral zones: the knees and feet.
Often, this occurs simultaneously with the release of the jaw. The legs move unpredictably, kicking and trembling in a childlike way, and then begin to flow. The deep muscles of the pelvis seem to smooth out, and a strong warmth is felt in the genital area, sometimes resembling tickling. Occasionally, this is accompanied by all the physiological signs of arousal, including natural wetting in women, yet entirely free from any erotic intention. The tips of the feet seem to receive currents from the center (the pelvis), becoming increasingly sensitive: the release of blocked energy always flows from the center outward to the periphery. Abundant sweating is also very normal while the medicine is active.
The sequence and the intensity with which the blocks in these seven zones are unpacked during ceremony is entirely individual and can vary greatly. Yet it can be said with certainty that in the first ceremonies, everyone experiences their bodily processes as equally challenging. Metaphorically, this work can be imagined as an orgasmic curve—the build-up of tension in a particular zone to a peak, in order to trigger its release.
In modern approaches, there are body-oriented therapists who favor a gentler, more gradual engagement with a person’s processes, placing emphasis on conscious choice and self-regulation rather than on energetic release. I have no doubt that, for some, such a paced approach is indeed more suitable—but this is rarely how the medicine works. On the contrary: it offers no mercy, and the ability to remain centered emerges only after the first, essential blocks have been cleared.
Learn more from the book:
The novel The Echo of Ucayali is both an anthropological journey into the world of Amazonian shamans and a mystical adventure non-fiction, b
