Cactus of Mystery

by Ross Heaven

  The UdV has similar origins in the rainforests of Brazil in 1961 by another siringueiro, Gabriel do Costa; however, this church claims spiritual lineage back three millennia. The Barquinha is a syncretism between the Santo Daime and Umbanda, an Afro-Brazilian religion that embraces the skills of mediumship. Both the Santo Daime and UdV have active congregations throughout the world.

  SAN PEDRO

  San Pedro (also known by the names achuma, huachuma, wachuma, giganton, aguacolla, mescalito, Cardo Santo, and el Remedio) by comparison has been given the name of an apostle of Christ. Saint Peter in popular mythology is the keeper of the keys to heaven and over the preceding centuries, in common parlance, the essence of this plant spirit has been depicted using the name of the founding rock of the Christian Church. As the biblical story goes, upon Simon’s first meeting with Jesus he was renamed Cephas (in Latin Petra or Peter)—the rock.

  The San Pedro plant itself, Trichocereus (Echinopsis) pachanoi, is a tall, straight, firm cactus. It stands alone and grows hard, straight, and very tall in the mountains of the Andes. The physical form of this plant conjures the images of an erect phallus, and indeed one of the names by which it is known is pene de Dios—literally “penis of God.” Fast growing in a high, dry, and arid landscape, San Pedro firmly and resolutely reaches upward toward the celestial realms, perhaps taking with him the keys to those very gates of heaven. It is a plant of great beauty day or night, and in fact it unfolds its sweetly aromatic flowers only at nighttime.

  Interestingly, similar to the ayahuasca mythology, there is at least one story from the Bolivian highlands, recorded by archaeologist and anthropologist Mario Polia, associating San Pedro with lightning, as determined by Bonnie Glass-Coffin.7

  You are probably familiar with the story of the condor and the hummingbird. This story associated with San Pedro tells of cooperative ascension whereby the highest flying bird, the condor, flew with the hummingbird on its back as high as it could go into the celestial realms. The hummingbird through the condor’s assistance was able to go the remaining distance and reach heaven. Thus it is that we can only get so far in our striving for connection with God, falling short each time we attempt to reach the divine realms. With the help of the hummingbird (aka San Pedro) and working in unity we too can reach the heights of heaven where San Pedro holds the keys.

  It is worth noting that this same story has been twisted in the Western psyche from a tale of cooperative unity to a tale of subterfuge—the ancient Celtic tale of the eagle and the wren. As the story goes, the eagle flew skyward, higher and higher with all his might, trying to reach heaven but unable to make it all the way. Unbeknownst to him, the little wren had hidden himself in the eagle’s feathers. When the eagle tired, getting as high as he could go, the wren flew out—easily becoming the first to get to heaven. Thus this crafty bird reaped all the glory while ignoring the eagle’s determination and hard work. Is it a wonder then that in Britain on Wren’s Day in times past the birds were slaughtered and impaled by young boys who would wander through the towns, waving this show of their prowess and asking for handouts? I find myself wondering whether the original stories about the eagle and the wren were more cooperative, and I pray that we in the West can return to a less competitive stance in our search for communion with our celestial guides.

  Here is a more feminine story told of the San Pedro spirit, known as aguacolla in Ecuador, from Glass-Coffin: “It seems that aguacolla before becoming a plant was a queen, first born, beautiful and attractive (and it is therefore that) the plant used to give tribute to the princess, the queen and the moon.” It is noted by her that on the north coast of Peru, the moon and sea were considered more important deities than the sun. Glass-Coffin also equates the ancient use of San Pedro with connection to the ancestors through whom control of the subterranean waters are sought for the fertility of the land.

  San Pedro, in contrast to ayahuasca, stands alone. Although other sacred plant spirits may accompany the spirit of San Pedro in its ceremonial healing work, it is in general a solo practitioner. The brew of San Pedro is made from the green chlorophyll-containing outer portion of the cactus decocted to a concentrated, green, slimy, gelatinous drink. Like any herbal decoction, the whole plant’s physiological and biochemical effects are much more complex than that of its isolated component chemicals, in this case the alkaloid mescaline. It is a devoted plant spirit that works in a characteristic dedicated yet individualistic way.

  Similar to ayahuasca, you get what you need. Each person and each session with the plant spirit is widely varied and appears to be tailored to the spiritual, physical, emotional, and mental needs of the person in that time—and of course all of these needs are connected. Just as we are looking at the physicality of the plant to get to know its spirit, so too our own physicality, external and internal, at any given moment gives clues to our spiritual condition and vice versa.

  The San Pedro cactus grows in segments. When foraging for plants, besides speaking to it, note is taken of its number of segments. This number is traditionally thought to correspond to that plant’s spirit—to its personality, energies, and thus to its utility in healing for various purposes. Seven-segment plants are most common and are used for group ceremony. For individual healings, however, one might hunt for a plant whose spirit has the qualities that your patient needs—the rare four-ribbed plant being the most potent and complex spiritually.

  San Pedro, more often than ayahuasca, is also used for its nonvisionary healing properties. Perhaps because of this healing potential, ceremonial practices in which lower concentrations are used are prevalent. In addition, many practices involve lengthy participatory healing sessions that render the healing from a purely visionary internal experience less attainable to the participant. In many curanderas’ traditional healing practices it would appear that the visions in and of themselves are not crucial to the healing process. Deemed more important by many healers is the spiritual communion with the sacrament that will heal and advance the patient’s soul life. Having said that, as opposed to Shuar healing practices where the patient may or may not drink ayahuasca, during a San Pedro healing ceremony all participants generally partake of the remedio (the brew).

  The plant grows alone in high and often dry landscapes. It is found behind many old churches from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and indeed on the walls of some chapels you will find the painted images of the San Pedro cactus. One chapel that I have frequented high in the mountains of Ecuador has a beautiful depiction of the baby Jesus arising out of a San Pedro plant. From these murals one can assume, despite the many written church treatises condemning its use, that the isolated and contemplative monks in the Andes seemed to have found the holy nature of this plant and used it to enhance their mystical experiences with Jesus and with their other divine guides.

  We know that San Pedro has been revered for more than six thousand years. Images of San Pedro are seen on numerous archaeological specimens. Evidence of its sacred use has even been found in preceramic cultures in areas of Peru from as long ago as 4000 BCE. Within the archaeological remains of the Chavin culture of the northern Peruvian highlands are found several depictions of San Pedro with mythical beings as well as with images of jaguars, hummingbirds, and deer. One Chavin excavation even found ancient “cigars” made from the San Pedro plant. The San Pedro motif is also found in archaeological digs of other cultures such as the Salinar and Nasca.

  In visions, many have recounted to me that the spirit of San Pedro often comes to them as a male, but this is not always the case. Whether you imagine a plant spirit as male or female is likely to say more about you than about the spirit itself; however, what is apparent from the descriptions of people who have been with both San Pedro and ayahuasca is that San Pedro is commonly described as the more gentle spirit. Just as in Tibetan Buddhism compassion is thought of as a male attribute, San Pedro’s teachings are frequently seen as coming from a male entity. Although in the end these teachings are just as ch
allenging and difficult in substance, the plant tends to reveal them in a softer and more cogent manner than the teachings from the harsh and exacting spirit of ayahuasca. The teachings from San Pedro are also more often described as direct and clear as opposed to the dreamlike and circuitous teachings of the spirit of ayahuasca.

  The San Pedro cactus is said to be of the wind and is indeed an airy plant that grows high up in the mountains, as opposed to the earthy, wet, crowded conditions under which the plants that make up the spirit of ayahuasca grow. This high mountain air is home to the cactus and is also seen in the stories that recall San Pedro as being associated with the four winds, invoking the sacred spirit of the four cardinal directions and of the breath of the icaros. In addition, this rarefied clarity is translated into the visions and teachings that come from communion with San Pedro. It is this essential air quality of the spirit of the San Pedro that people describe as providing a sense of clear lucidity to the entire San Pedro experience.

  As a generality, everything about San Pedro is gentler when compared to ayahuasca. Although the purgative effects are sought after and enhanced by some curanderas, the vomiting is not considered an essential part of the healing from San Pedro, and when present is usually much milder. Prior to the ceremony the preparation (or dieta—to be contrasted with diet) for San Pedro communion is also traditionally gentler than that for ayahuasca. The purpose of the dieta is to obtain a lightness of being such that your energies are clear and open. This is achieved by the consumption of light foods and by abstinence from sex and alcohol for at least a day.

  Although the experience as a whole, in the emotional, mental, and spiritual sense, is often perceived as being gentler with San Pedro than with ayahuasca, the ceremonies that accompany the traditional use of San Pedro are often a great deal more harsh and challenging than ceremonies with ayahuasca. As mentioned before, the use of ayahuasca traditionally allows a more internal experience whereas many traditional San Pedro ceremonies are lengthy and filled with physical activities that detract from the internal visionary experience. It is difficult to say, however, how much this has to say about the essence of these two spirits or whether it has more to say about the extremely isolated communities where the plants of ayahuasca are found, compared to the more structured and less isolated cultures in the lands where San Pedro calls home, and where cultures have, through time, syncretized with the cosmology and practices of the Christian Church.

  It is not uncommon for a San Pedro ceremony to last the whole night long and to involve repeated and lengthy requirements of the participants, necessitating much physical stamina and concentration. I personally find that this detracts from my process of communing with this beautiful plant spirit, and yet it must be said that I have also found great benefits are to be gained from these healing ceremonies that are combinations of ancient Quechuan Incan tradition and Catholicism. On the mesa of the curandera are numerous huacas (power objects and sacred items) that invoke and hold the spirits of the Apus (spirits of the mountain peaks) and other holy places. Often literally rocks, these huacas are essential spirit tools for the work of San Pedro who was, as pointed out before, known as the Rock of the Christian Church.

  Icaros, or songs, hold a particularly important function in San Pedro ceremony. As with ayahuasca ceremonies, many participants experience the songs as a guiding force for the entire process. They also serve as prayers or songs of intent and guide ceremonial energies and focus them where needed, whether for protection, for easing anxiety, for healing, or setting the pace and quality of the visions.

  Through chanting the curandero is believed to communicate with the spirit realm and mediate the healing. The singing voice as embodied song could be seen as constituting a relational bridge among clients, curandero, and spirits—concrete and magic at the same time, which seems to synthesize the essence of the integral health beliefs.8

  HEALING EXPERIENCES

  What of my own relationships with these plants? It would seem that it is indeed true that “you get what you need”—or perhaps it is just that I am a topsy-turvy soul, for my own experiences with these two plant spirits were not always the same as I have previously outlined or as commonly described by the majority of participants.

  When I first met the goddess of compassion ayahuasca (for she often comes to me as a woman) she was so very gentle, and generous, and loving. It came at a time when I was at the culmination of years of difficult challenges—of living deep in shadow. Already in the midst of a death of sorts—finally separating from my addict husband of twenty years and all the whirlwind of hell that his addiction created for me and our children—I was exhausted, in deep despair, sick and numbed to anything like possibility or hope. I had already been through so many of life’s hard initiations and was plodding on the best I could. I guess at that time in my life I just needed to come into the light and to be held. She held me.

  For years I communed with her in this gentle way, all the while surrounded by others undergoing seriously challenging sessions. I could hear their struggles nearby and I came to know that theirs was the more typical interaction with ayahuasca—the taskmaster of transformation through fire. I was surrounded by people diving deep into their shadow selves. Yet throughout these years when I was with her, I was filled with an all-encompassing sense of loving and of being loved. My journeys were emotional and beautiful. Uplifting and empowering, warm and supportive—I experienced true oneness with the All. I was taken down tunnels to golden thrones, shown luminous, numinous gardens and cosmic miracles.

  In one session that stays clear in my consciousness and remains a part of me since that time, I danced and sang in a clearing in the jungle under a starry night sky. All night I found myself in dialogue, back and forth, with the full moon and the stars. I remember the moment that I suddenly became aware that this was what I was doing, that I was speaking to them and being answered, in Spanish.

  “Why are we speaking Spanish?” I asked. “Well, we could speak Shuar, the language of the people of this forest, but you don’t speak Shuar very well. And English is not spoken by the people here at all. Spanish works.” All night I found myself dancing a dance with simple steps, over and over—I knew not why. And I was given downloads of deep wisdom and clarity, much of which is still coming to me in conscious awareness.

  Many years later I was in Washington, D.C., at a Christmas Eve ceremony of the local Santo Daime. It was my first festive Daime experience. I was shown where to stand and how to dance. It came as no surprise that the steps I was shown were the same that I was shown by the vine so very far from there in that clearing in the jungle. Are these the steps that are held by the spirit of ayahuasca and that she also taught to Mestre Irineu? Perhaps.

  These were my early years in relationship with Mother Ayahuasca. Not that I didn’t have physical challenges. I did a great deal of purging in these early sessions. But for years she gave me a gentle and sweet form of emotional, psychological, and visionary love and support.

  Then at some point in my life I guess I needed to dig deeper. I had lost sight of and denied my shadow. She does not abide this in her disciples. At that point she wanted me once again to dive into the darkness of my being. To search out and uproot unproductive patterns of behavior and thought. It was at this communion that our relationship took a sharp turn. She poured me into a blender and turned me inside out.

  Over and over again in the ensuing years my times with her became so mind-numbingly hard that I began to beg her to have mercy, to stop, to just let me be. But she is too loving for that. She kept me in that alchemical fire, time and again. Perhaps I have too much shadow. Perhaps I am a slow learner. But time and again she took me to the depths of my psyche and of the world’s psyche. It was dark. It was painful.

  During those years, even when I was far removed from her, just the memory of her smell and taste brought the darkness and pain back to me like a sword impaling fear into my gut and brought unbidden tears to my eyes. Yet even in the depths of despair
, even while pleading with her to stop, I never lost faith that she does indeed love me and she would never ask more of me than I could handle. And that I would always get what I need.

  And during these times I learned to pray more productively. To better communicate with her my conscious needs, to commune in a gentler way. I must have finally burned in the fire. Polished enough for her—at least for now. I found peace once again with my wise Mother Goddess.

  And San Pedro? My relationship with San Pedro began in the opposite way. Perhaps it was simply that it was a later time in my life, during the time when I needed harsh lessons. San Pedro presents me with a male energy, authoritative and firm. My experience with this deity began quite the opposite to that of my honeymoon with ayahuasca (and perhaps opposite to that of most peoples’ experiences). For at first it was he who was the harsh taskmaster.

  There were many times when he took me to places that I really did not want to go—showed me things I didn’t want to see. I came out of each session drenched with sweat and torn asunder. Although the physical effects were far gentler and easier than those with ayahuasca and the messages more direct and clear, the overall effect of these journeys was one that brought me to my knees. And one day he too shifted. The past several visits from this deity had been filled with loving kindness, at once very different and very much the same expression of love and of oneness as with ayahuasca. Ayahuasca’s love comes to me messy and fiercely—an emotional and sensual feeling—whereas San Pedro’s love comes as a higher, more intellectual, heady, and airy love—at times cutting—but always clear and compassionate.