Ayahuasca: My Journey Through Death, Rebirth, and Transformation, Part 2

Reading Time: 21 minutes

Part 1 can be found here.

Ayahuasca broke me.

I like to think of myself as a pretty determined person. When I decide to do something, I’ve usually got the conviction I need to power through the obstacles and accomplish what I set out for. With that being said, two ayahuasca ceremonies was all I needed to drain all motivation and willpower to continue drinking the medicine. Exhausted, confused, and depleted, I silently ate breakfast and walked to our 9 a.m. seminar: The Answer is You. They don’t give you any reprieve during purge week at Rythmia. I participated in the ceremonies until about 2 a.m., stared off into space trying to process what the hell just happened until about 4 a.m., then briefly fell asleep, only to wake up at 8 a.m. for breakfast and a full day of repeating the process all over again. I was on day three, and my willpower-juice levels were running low. I needed to muster up some courage.

 

The Answer is You is a seminar lead by a beautiful human being named Paola. This class was the pick-me-up I needed, helping me process the previous night’s tumultuous events. We discussed wisdom from Carl Jung, Michael Beckwith, and other thought leaders and pioneers of psychology and spirituality. This was very helpful in trying to make sense of the clusterfuck that is the human psyche, as well as integrate what we learned from the ayahuasca ceremonies we had only just survived. After absorbing some Jungian knowledge and sharing our experiences with each other, we did an exercise that involved everyone getting out of their chairs and dancing around the room like crazy people. This sounds loony, but afterward, the previously heavy and intense atmosphere of the conference room was now filled with giggling, smiling, and a renewed lightness. The seminar ended with a powerful group meditation guided by Paola. I don’t know how she did it, but after the meditation, all the traumatic shit from the previous night now seemed less daunting. I realized now why I needed to go through such a hardcore and uncomfortable experience. This was ayahuasca showing me the darkest parts of myself so that I could exfoliate and clean them from my life for good. I had hoped that purging out my fear of helplessness and surrender wouldn’t involve being possessed by an alien entity, but hey, emotional beggars can’t be choosers, right?

The Answer is You is just one example of how Rythmia helps guests understand and integrate what can often be a perplexing and challenging experience with the plant medicine. Each morning I felt depleted, considering even skipping the next ceremony; then each day the excellent staff of Rythmia and the other beautiful souls I was journeying with would pick me up and get me back on my feet for the next session with ayahuasca. The support system and community at Rythmia are unlike any I have experienced. I kept finding myself amazed how quickly I could open up and share the deepest and darkest parts of myself with total strangers. After 20 minutes of opening up about our deepest fears or insecurities, we would finally learn what the other’s name was. It was bizarre. This was an ongoing theme all week, and I don’t know how I would have gotten through processing all of that emotional baggage without such a phenomenal resource of incredible people. With my willpower-juice tank refilled, I was ready to resume the heroes journey back in the maloca.

Third Ceremony

I found myself back on the now-familiar mattress where I would be purging old pain and slaying the dragons of my past. I was still rattled from the night before, but I was somehow comfortable with the idea of putting myself through the crucible all over again. After all, I was halfway through, and there was no turning back now. The theme of the third ceremony was the divine feminine, and the medicine would be administered by only female shamans and guides. I was hoping that maybe this meant I wouldn’t get the shit kicked out of me by Mother Ayahuasca like I had the night before, but I wasn’t holding my breath. As I sat and meditated on my intentions for the coming journey, they developed as such:

  1. Show me my gifts. I wanted a bit of a breather from the usual purging of nasty shit that didn’t serve me, and maybe focus on the positive elements of myself. I asked ayahuasca to show me my strengths and gifts that I already possess. Let’s try and view the flawed glass of Christian as half-full shall we?
    2. Show me the spirit realm. This one sounds a bit nutty, but the previous night’s ceremony had taken my view of reality and fucked it straight to oblivion. If my earlier grip on reality was a cute little gazelle, ayahuasca was the lions, hyenas, vultures, worms, and microbes that would return that gazelle back to the source. My previous skepticism towards spirituality, mysticism, and extraterrestrial or extradimensional life was now being digested by said lions and purged out of me along with my childhood shame and fear. Not to beat a dead horse here, but I had just had my third eye opened, learned that my higher self is from a different star named Sirius (whatever the fuck that means), and subsequently got possessed by an alien entity. It’s hard to approach a ceremony with a materialistic, skeptical, and logic based mindset after that. I needed some answers.
    3. Show me some love. Please be nice ayahuasca. Like, pretty, pretty, pretty please.

 

I choked down the first cup of purge-sauce and returned to my spaceship (mattress) to begin my next journey. After two nights of deprogramming, exploring, and tripping balls, my ceremonial bed had now received a bit of a makeover. It was now covered by a beautiful tapestry of a pine-covered mountain that I had brought with me. I guess when packing I thought I might use it to lay out on the beach or something, but it was now my spiritual armor and my inner child’s super-hero cape. I also had 7 crystals (one for each chakra energy) laid out at the head of the bed. Woo-woo-ey as it sounds, I wasn’t about to let some scummy alien screw with me this time, and I can really feel the energy from the crystals when I’m in Aya’s world. As I lay on the mattress, focusing on my breath, I began to feel the effects of the thick brew that was oozing through my body.

My first message from the ayahuasca was to go outside. This surprised me because the ceremony had only just started, but I obliged. I wandered out under the moonless, star-spattered sky and found a comfortable, alien-free hammock to lay in. With almost no light pollution in this part of Costa Rica, the sky was a cosmic masterpiece. I gazed up at the heavenly view with the wonder of a child, then I began to connect to a very familiar and ancient archetype. I was a warrior. I was testing my metal with the other young recruits in the training yard. I was contemplating the day that I would be able to prove my worth and fight for my tribe. This was so vivid, and it felt like I was connecting to some memory or life that I had lived before. It seemed eerily familiar, like one long continuous deja vu.

As I lay in the hammock, a young man approached a face statue of the Moai (Easter Island Megaliths) about 20 feet away from me. He seemed to be in some kind of trance, and his steps were jerky as if some invisible force was pushing him along. He stopped in front of the giant face and began making a strange noise. It was a scratchy growl; some guttural noise that I knew to be the sound of pure rage. I looked on in silence as the rage and anger morphed into pain and despair. His growling transformed into whimpering and sobbing. I was a bystander to an epic battle that raged inside of him. As he purged it all out in front of the Moai, I felt his pain. He was my brother. We were warriors in the same spirit tribe. I knew this encounter wasn’t a coincidence, and Daniel and I became good friends later that week.

Photo Credit: Santosh Faiia

I had seen what I was supposed to see, so I got up and headed back towards the maloca. On my trek across the grassy lawn, I felt a force fill me from the sky above. I looked up, and my gaze instantly went to Sirius, the brightest star, and the one I had been drawn to the night before. I redirected my course out onto the open lawn, and stared up at the celestial body, feeling its energy entering the very fabric of my body. It felt as though I was being supercharged, and I needed to ground this energy through me and down into Earth. I began doing the most effortless yoga of my life. I could hold every pose with ease, with my balance and strength reaching an all-time high. There was a cosmic dance flowing through me that seemed to be as old as time itself. I found out later that this night actually held some astrological significance.

I sound like I’m on crazy pills if you aren’t into astrology and shit (I wasn’t until that night), but the energy from celestial bodies far away in space have an impact on us here on Earth. This is explained on the level of quantum physics, and it’s now understood that everything in the universe is made from the same fundamental stuff. Everything is just energy vibrating at different frequencies, and we are all essentially made from stardust. That night, August 8th (8/08/18), was Lionsgate day. Lionsgate day is when the star Sirius aligns with our sun, and there is higher frequency energy that is beamed to Earth. If you’re a weirdo like me, you can learn more about this here. This is precisely the woo-woo stuff I would have scoffed and laughed at a month ago, but when you feel the effects first hand, you find yourself boarding the Woo-woo Express.

I was renewed and filled with energy. This had been what I had needed after the last night of torturous work. Ayahuasca was showing me the gifts I had asked to see. I was a warrior, with the ability to assist, protect, and build up others around me. This wasn’t a skill set I had just gained for the first time, but one that I had remembered from previous lifetimes. However, in this lifetime my heroic weapon of choice would not be a spear or a sword, but instead, love. Ayahuasca was healing me and feeling me with love so that my overflowing cup would spill out to others around me. Through love, I would help end suffering, bring more joy and light to the world, and assist in shifting the Earth to a higher state of consciousness.

Well, fuck. That’s a lot to take in. Even when it’s all positive, getting what you asked the medicine for never comes as expected. Hearing the call for the second cup, I went back into the maloca. After gagging down purge-sauce shot number two, I lay back down on my space-mattress and wrapped myself up in the forest covered tapestry. It made me feel safe and secure, reminding me of my beloved blankey from childhood. I lay and contemplated all of the strangeness of this new reality that I found myself in as I drifted off to sleep.

I woke from a dreamless sleep to a waking nightmare. My head felt very foggy and painful as if I had been drugged. I was drowsy and bewildered, not remembering how I had gotten here, or where “here” even was. I felt like I was changing, as though my body was morphing into some other species through some DNA mutation. I noticed a red sore on my arm, then quickly became aware of several others like it across my body. Something was clearly wrong and I felt like the ayahuasca wasn’t helping me, but slowly killing me. I was exhausted, and it seemed like a momentous task to even lift my head and look around. What I saw was unsettling, to say the least. Several people lay motionless on their beds around me, and I knew that they were dead. In the center of the maloca was a small group of mutated survivors who listened silently to the entrancing beat of the shaman’s drum. They no longer looked human, but a perverse and altered variation of sapiens. The scene was ominous and dark, with some evil energy pervading the entire space. I got the impression that they were harvesting the energy of all those who lay dead around me, in some sick and twisted dark ritual. They were harvesting my energy.

At first, it seemed an impossible task, but I slowly began to find the strength to lift myself off of the mattress. As I arose the tapestry wrapped about me fell to the mattress, and I immediately felt the urge to pick it back up. I felt naked, incomplete, and vulnerable without it. As I wrapped it back around me, I felt the energy of the blanket permeate my body and give me more strength. Why did I want this tapestry wrapped about me so much? It was like the cloth had a will of its own, as though the very fibers of the material had some intelligent agenda. Thoughts of the character Gollum from the Lord of the Rings filled my mind. I was becoming a slave to its will and its energy was consuming me. Taking more effort than it should have, I tore the tapestry off of my body and threw it on the mattress. What the fuck was going on? I had to get out of here. It’s forbidden to ever leave a ceremony before it has ended, but this ceremony seemed to have turned into a dark cultlike sacrificial ritual, and I wasn’t about to ask for permission to bail. I silently escaped out the door as the ominous drum beat in the distance.

The path through what was once Rythmia’s beautifully kept grounds now appeared as a barely visible trek through the jungle. The sidewalk was overgrown with vegetation and bugs seemed to be everywhere. What in the hell was happening? This place looked as though it had been uninhabited for months and the jungle was reclaiming its old territory. The windy path somehow led me to my room and I burst inside, locking the door behind me. The room wasn’t any better off. There were insects crawling on the walls, the bed linens seemed to be half eaten by moths, and the whole building felt unstable, as though it could come crashing down at any moment. Somehow the power and running water were both still working, but everything showed signs of nature running its entropic course. I rummaged around for my phone (big fucking mistake) and called my sister to warn her, thinking she would be the only one who would understand my situation. It was quite obvious to me that the Earth was cleansing itself of toxic humanity. The jungle was taking back what we had stolen. The plants were intelligent, and the once Merciful Mother Ayahuasca was now an angry and vindictive Goddess, doing whatever it took to restore balance to nature. I still hadn’t gained my full cognition back however, and my words seemed to come out all jumbled and incoherent. One thing I really hate is when I cannot articulate what I am feeling or experiencing, and this was the worst case of that I had ever experienced. My sister wouldn’t take me seriously, and it’s no wonder. I must have sounded like a raving lunatic. I just wanted to warn everyone. They needed to get to safety. They needed to prepare for the reckoning that was coming. They needed to avoid ayahuasca at all costs. It was too late to save me, but there might still be hope for them.

Art by Alex Grey

I was trapped in an apocalypse of grand proportions. My body was mutated and deformed, I was dehydrated, out of water, and exhaustion began to take me. Sure that I was doomed and this would be my last night on Earth, I lay contemplating my existence. Tears filled my eyes as I thought of all my family and friends that wouldn’t make it and all of the innocent children who had to be born into such an awful existence. I realized I was going to die with no children of my own, and that thought filled me with great remorse. I then did the only thing left to do… I called her. We had only met a few short weeks before, but my connection with her had grown stronger with each passing day. Now she was the only thing on my mind. I had to tell her how I felt… I had to tell her goodbye.

It didn’t take her long to talk a bit of sense into a crazy person tripping balls on ayahuasca. She was so patient and understanding. She wouldn’t let me give up. I couldn’t die tonight. I had to get back to her. She was the only shimmer of light that I could see in this massive ocean of darkness. I pulled myself up and prepared for my escape. I noticed another tapestry hanging on the bed next to mine. It belonged to my roommate and new friend, Elijah. I pulled it off the bed and wrapped it about me. Immediately I felt the power and energy of the blanket fill me all the way down to my bones. This time the energy felt pure as if it was there to assist me, with no hidden or twisted motives. With my new determination, I walked out to face the jungle.

When I made my way back towards the maloca, something bizarre happened. I still can’t quite grasp exactly what took place, but everything went back to normal. I felt myself sort of shift cognitive gears back into normal reality, like my brain had changed channels and put me back in the regular dimension I belonged in. The ceremony had just ended and everyone was leaving the maloca, all of them appearing healthy, un-mutated, and very much alive. I spent the next couple hours talking among the others and trying to figure out what in the actual fuck had just transpired. It was as if I walked through some alternate reality or dimension for a couple hours, then suddenly snapped back to everything being normal. I barely slept at all that night, mind-fucked and distraught about all that I had transpired.

As I stared blankly down at my breakfast the following morning, I heard a sweet and familiar voice ask, “How are you today?” It was Paola. Apparently, I looked how I felt, and she must have sensed something was wrong. “I’ve had a rough go at it the last couple nights,” I told her. “So much fear and pain keep coming up during the ceremony. I don’t know if I want to drink the medicine again tonight.” She listened with a calm resolve that seemed to emanate kindness and understanding. “Would you like to do a private meditation?” she asked. Remembering how much better I had felt after our group meditation after the second ceremony, I gladly accepted. A couple hours later I found myself in the conference room with Paola, trying to sort through the inexplicable and almost indescribable week I had been going through.

After some gentle calming breathing with my eyes closed, Paola asked me to name the emotion I was feeling. It was fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of losing control, fear of not being able to help those I love, and fear of a big bad world. She asked me to locate the fear. I now felt it predominantly in my head. She then asked me to try and remember the first memory that I have of being afraid. This seemed like a very challenging task, but almost immediately the memory came into my mind. I was five years old. I was playing on the woodpile at my aunt Lucene’s apartment behind my grandma’s house. I had been left there to be babysat for a couple days as my mom way out of town. As I was climbing across the pile of wood like little boys do, I noticed a spider. Then there was another, and another, and another. I had rattled their nest and now spiders were crawling all over the woodpile and all over me. As I ran towards the house screaming and crying out for my mom, the spiders were crawling under my little overalls and biting me all over. When I got to the house, my mom was nowhere to be found. I was in a total panic with no mommy to save me or protect me from the spiders.

5-year-old me with my little sister

I was shocked at how well I could remember every detail of the traumatic experience. I felt all of the same fear and pain that the little boy was feeling. His tears were my tears, and I felt them rushing down my face. Paola told me to hold the little boy and protect him. She told me to let him know that he was safe now and that I wouldn’t let any other harm come to him. She told me to call my mother to the scene, and we held the sobbing little boy together. We sent the boy all of our love, and I felt the burden of my deep-rooted fear gush out of me with each tear. Then I had a crazy realization. The sores that had appeared on my body the previous night were not random at all. They were spider bites. There were 10 or so of them spread out over my body and I knew that I had stored the trauma of that experience in the physical location of each bite. This was the strangest purge of all. Now smiling and wiping the tears from my eyes, I leaned over and embraced Paola with all of my love and gratitude. “You are an angel,” I told her.

Paola helped me reach one of the greatest breakthroughs of my life. I was able to process and release even the deepest rooted fear that I had taken on as a child. This fear had been a driving force from behind the scenes my entire life. It had been holding me back from being truly independent, and it had enmeshed me emotionally to my mother. Riding a roller coaster of emotions, I now felt liberated and light as a feather. This is a great example of how Rythmia performs miracles. Sometimes they come in the maloca during a ceremony, and sometimes they come when a wonderful human being goes out of their way to help you when they see that you are struggling. Paola guided me through the liberation from decades-old pain and fear. I never thought it would happen, but I found myself renewed and ready to come before the feminine cosmic energy of Mother Ayahuasca for one more ceremony.

Fourth Ceremony

The final ceremony of purge week is the most extensive. The ceremony follows the Colombian tradition, with ayahuasca sourced from the Colombian Amazon. This ceremony also has an “open bar” policy, meaning you can drink as much medicine as you think you can handle. The ceremony goes all through the night and doesn’t stop until about 8 A.M. Physically depleted and sleep deprived from a week of purging and inter-dimensional travel, I summoned all of my remaining strength for the final session. My intentions were:

  1. Trust. The first three ceremonies at Rythmia were some of the hardest nights of my life and I had the hardest time surrendering to the medicine. I always fought it, resulting in some seriously difficult work. My intention was to learn to trust completely, let go of my apprehension, and surrender.
  2. Peace. OK ayahuasca, I’ve put in my time. Now show me some peace. No more possessions or apocalyptic visions, please and thank you.
  3. Clarity. My life has been changing so rapidly and so drastically over the last year, and I’ve been anxious about where I’m going to end up, or how I’m going to get there. My interests, my associations, and my actions had all been rapidly evolving. I wanted some clarity about the next steps of my journey, and where this path was going to lead me.

This batch of ayahuasca was particularly foul. It was much thicker than the other brews, and it took everything within me to not puke it back up. After digesting the potion on my mattress for an hour or so, I began to feel a heaviness come over me. It was like a great weight was pushing down on my chest, causing every breath to take significant effort. Breathing the air of the maloca felt like wading through quicksand. We spent the first 2 hours of the ceremony in silence, and I did my best to keep my breathing regular. I didn’t know what it was that was so heavy inside of me, but it was like an anvil was resting on my chest. The shaman called for the second cup. Shit. Already? I was struggling with just one cup, but I knew that tonight was my last chance to go deep and do some more healing. I staggered up to the shaman and poured the dark sludge into my mouth. The anvil on my chest got heavier until I felt as though I was carrying the weight of all the world. All I could do was lay on the bed and force myself to breathe.

Art by @fluid_threads

The next thing I remember was that it was time for the healing circle. It couldn’t have come any sooner, as I felt like a suffocating force was wrapped around my heart and lungs, making each breath a monumental task. With what strength I had left, I forced myself to the healing circle. I sat down on the floor in line with 20 or so other men, forming a large half moon shape around the shamans at the center of the maloca. They conduct the healing circles for men and women separately, and everyone is encouraged to show as much skin as possible. This allows the shamans to maximize the healing properties of their sacred healing lotions. The shamans began going to work at the far end of the large circle with chanting and singing. Two of them wielded wyras and two carried large feathers, but all of them were chanting, whooshing, or signing away dark and dense energies. They sprayed the sweet healing lotion over each man as they passed over him. The process was slow, with each man in the circle receiving the attention and healing gifts of the shamans. As they got closer to my end of the circle, the invisible weight about me became so heavy that I could barely lift my head. I hunkered there, slouched over pathetically, shirt off, waiting for redemption.

Then help arrived. I felt a chilling shower of liquid spray over me as the shamans arrived. It felt like coming up for air after being trapped underwater for far too long. They were all around me, chanting and making strange whoosh noises that seemed to drive the dense energy away. Their bamboo leafed wyras and long feathers brushed over my body, exfoliating my very spirit and driving away the dense burden. My thoughts were filled with memories of my first love and my body filled with pure teenage passion. I felt the vulnerability and zeal of a boy who had never been hurt by any woman. Then came the crippling pain and anguish of having that entire world come crashing down. I felt the darkness of infidelity and the anguish of being betrayed by the person you loved most. These emotions were as real now as they were then. What the fuck? I thought I was over this pain. This is supposed to be old news. The tears began flowing as I sobbed through my teenage heartbreak. The anvil on my chest was actually a wall I had built myself. I had to protect myself from this pain, and now my heart was blocked off from the world. I hadn’t been able to open up to anyone else since that romance and heartbreak from a decade ago, and the prospect of a relationship hasn’t had any appeal to me for years. Catalyzed by the heavy flow of tears, the wyras and feathers swept the heart wall away. I felt the tight suffocating weight around my chest begin to loosen, and then slowly evaporate. This wall had been stopping me from truly trusting anyone or giving my heart to another. As the shamans completed their mystical pass over me, I was freed of that burden. My heart was now open and vulnerable once again.

Art by Alex Grey

With the healing circle completed, I lay on my mattress with my heart shining up towards the heavens, feeling weightless. I had spent the first few hours of the ceremony suffocated by the last decade of wall building and emotional detachment. This was the root of all of my intimacy and dating issues. It was also the source of my trust problems. I didn’t want to surrender and give in to ayahuasca (a feminine energy) because I had been damaged by a woman in the past, and the concept of surrendering to her was terrifying. With that weight lifted, I felt light and renewed, with the future seeming to be as bright as ever. I also felt nothing but love and forgiveness for my teenage sweetheart. I had cried out the bitterness and resentment I had buried so deep inside of me. I had finally truly healed.

Staring off into space and processing all of this, I began to feel something activate inside of me. It felt like a dormant healing system of my body that was now being activated. Now I began physically healing myself. I don’t know how else to say it. I performed Reiki on myself, did restorative yoga, along with many other strange healing methods. This included shaking my limbs sporadically, exfoliating my skin, popping my joints, and even rubbing wax from my ears into my beard (I know that sounds super gross) to give it a more natural shine and feel. I don’t know how long this lasted, but it had to have been several hours. The process felt totally natural and I wasn’t consciously in control of it at all. It was like my body was healing on autopilot. After several draining hours of self-repair, I lay my head down in exhaustion and passed out.

I woke with the sunrise. The rays from the sun filled me with new power and beckoned me to rise. As I clambered to my feet, I heard the shaman call for a third serving. I walked to the middle of the maloca and he spooned an oozy clump of the brew into my mouth. This time it went down with ease and even energized me more. I walked outside to watch the sunrise and soak up the energy of the great heavenly body on the horizon. Before long, I was teaming with a current of pure lifeforce as I was the previous night, on Lionsgate day. I began doing yoga in front of the Maoi statue with power, balance, and ease. My body moved as if with a knowing, requiring no effort or willpower to execute the yogic postures. Before long, another man from the ceremony joined me in silence, and we moved from pose to pose in unison. By the end of my yoga session, I was channeling the pure energy of the sun, with a new view of the world around me. It was all so fucking beautiful. I sat on the grass soaking up the natural beauty of Rythmia and Costa Rica. This was the peace I had asked for. I was exactly where I was supposed to be. There wasn’t one blade of grass out of place, and my life was unfolding exactly as it should be. As Joseph Campbell would say, I was following my bliss.

 

Writing a New Chapter

Putting the impact of my week at Rythmia into words is a very challenging task, and to simply call it transformational is a gross understatement. I feel as though I have received decades of therapy in one action-packed week. I unearthed deep seeded pain, trauma, and all the darkest parts of myself. I was made painfully aware of who I had become and those parts of me that were toxic and holding me back from my highest potential. I cut ties with my fear, anger, and shame that had been plaguing me from behind the scenes for years. I merged back with my soul and connected to more of my authentic, essential self and purpose in life. I opened my third eye and had encounters with entities that are not of this earthly realm or dimension. I removed the barricade around my healed, healed said heart, and restored my ability to be vulnerable, to trust, and to deeply connect with others. Not only did I receive these miracles, but I also met so many amazing new friends and beautiful humans to traverse the rest of this incredible journey of life with.

As I write this post from a cozy hipster cafe in Colombia, I contemplate the next step in my journey. My life has been imbued with new zeal since leaving Rythmia, and I feel a strong drive to make the world a better place than the one I found, in whatever ways I can. I will continue to explore the world of sacred plants and mystical healing practices, sharing any breakthroughs, insights, and wisdom I may find with all of you. I will seek out any locations, traditions, or teachings that bring more light and love into the world. I have a renewed determination to soak up every ounce of the marrow of life, and I feel like this is the beginning of the next chapter for me. My meeting with Mother Ayahuasca has helped me find my True North, and my hope is that the recounting of these experiences might bring some good into the world, even if just a little. Namaste.

P.S.
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P.S.S.
I would love to hear from you! I am very reachable if you have any questions or feedback… and if you do end up making the pilgrimage to Rythmia, be sure to let them know you found out about it them from True North Project.

Art by @fluid_threads