The Emissary of Nature

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Emissary of Nature

“In the Western world visionaries and mystics are a good deal less common than they used to be…In the currently fashionable picture of the universe there is no place for valid transcendental experience. Consequently, those who have had what they regard as valid transcendental experiences are looked upon with suspicion, as being either lunatics or swindlers. To be a mystic or a visionary is no longer credible.”
– Aldous Huxley

I did not set out to write this book; I was called to write it. To properly understand what you have begun to read, you must understand where it came from. The story is only partially my own.

Back around the early 1990’s, an indigenous people, the Achuar, had initiated contact with the outside world because they saw the destruction that was happening to their neighbors from the rubber and oil companies.

They feared the ‘West’ but did what they feared most because they knew having to interact with the West was inevitable. Their elders saw that by initiating contact with the right people, they could exert some control over the situation.

Their elders convened with a group of Westerners and spoke at length about what to do. An Achuar elder said this:

“If you’re coming to help us you’re wasting your time. If you’re coming because you realize your salvation is tied into our own, then let us work together.”

This message was the spark to create the charity organization Pachamama Alliance. When I heard what was said, shivers rippled through my body. The goal of the Pachamama Alliance isn’t to merely preserve the rainforest and its peoples, although that is an important part of its role. Instead its aim is to change the “dream of the modern world” so that destruction of the natural world isn’t sought out in the first place.

I had never heard of the Pachamana Alliance until I met them by being a member in Maverick 1000. This is a private, invitation-only global network of top entrepreneurs and industry leaders created by Yanik Silver. Maverick 1000 has a purpose that is three-fold: personal and business growth, making an impact, and having fun and epic experiences.

I was in Seattle attending a Maverick event. We were working with the Pachamama Alliance, using our collective entrepreneurial skills to show how the charity could not just raise money through donations but could also expand through certain business-like operations. Perhaps most importantly, we discussed how to get their message of a sustainable and ecologically-sound future, into the heart of businesses.

Prior to this I had never heard of the Pachamama Alliance. What I did not know is that my introduction to the organization would end up becoming a pivotal point in my life.

I was invited to come along on the Founder’s Journey to the Amazon rainforest in Ecuador with John Perkins and Lynne Twist, best-selling authors of Confessions of an Economic Hitman and The Soul of Money, respectively. I already had other events planned during the time of the trip, but the pull was strong. I knew that this was something that I simply had to do, so I canceled the other events and made it happen.

In the time before I left for the Amazon, I studied more about Pachamama and pored over their recommended reading materials. I was far from an activist. In growing my businesses, I was focused on what my team and I could accomplish to be profitable. We were doing good things and helping people, but I wasn’t looking at the bigger collective picture, nor at the ripple of impacts that what we did would cause. Getting involved here began to open my eyes to a wider perspective.

For years, after watching my mother succumb to breast cancer, I was motivated to teach people how to be healthier naturally. And now, what became abundantly clear was that so much of human health is tied to environmental health. The plastics, pollution, and pesticides that disrupt our hormones, causing cancer, cause similar destruction in nature.

Finally, it was time for my Amazon journey. I flew into Quito, Ecuador. From there it was a couple more days of journeying by bus, truck, canoe, and more planes until we arrive deep in the heart of the rainforest. Spending time with the Achuar, those previously uncontacted people, showed me just how different cultures could be. At one point, standing in the rainforest, with the cacophony of chirping and buzzing from birds, frogs, and insects, I was almost moved to tears in gratitude for the experience. And I’m not normally a crier.

Elements of that journey are spread throughout this book. For now, I want to zero in on a particular part of it.

For years, I had heard about ayuhuasca, a psychoactive drink made from vines and bark used by indigenous peoples for thousands of years. From the very beginning I knew I wanted to experience it, but, if I was going to do it, I wanted to do it right.

Ayuhuasca is highly revered by the cultures in which it originates. Because of its capacity for transformation, its popularity spread far and wide—a fact both beneficial and detrimental. On the one hand, many Westerners seeking transformation, enlightenment, or healing sought out the medicine with various impacts. On the other hand, ayuhuasca is misused by others. The worst I’ve heard is that at the Peruvian airport you can see people holding signs offering ayuhuasca ceremonies. And some unscrupulous so-called shamans have then robbed and raped those seekers.

Anyone can claim to be a shaman. It’s not a licensed profession. And how would anyone from the West know the legitimate from the not? (Many in the West would even doubt that a shaman could be legit.)

So, as I said, if I was going to experience ayuhuasca, I wanted to do it right—to work with a legitimate shaman who had been practicing for years and to do it in the place where ayuhuasca comes from. This isn’t to say that a ceremony taking place in downtown San Francisco can’t be good; I just wanted my experience to be as authentic as possible the first time. In my journey into the rainforest with the Pachamama Alliance, this opportunity was available.

I heard many amazing stories from different people. Ayuhuasca effects everyone differently. And these stories ranged from the harsh (purging from both ends all night) to amazing visions and talking with the spirit of ayuhuasca. Whatever was to happen, I thought I was ready for it. I was ready for my life to be changed in some way. In fact, life-changing visions are exactly what I desired and expected.

The day the ceremony was to take place we spent fasting. When you first meet your shaman and he’s wearing an IBM shirt you have to laugh. These people live in their cultures fully, yet small things like this act as reminders of how our cultures interact and have intertwined. One way or another, the culture of globalization is growing strongly.

I was excited to learn that our shaman was the one who had originally spoken those words about our salvation being tied together, over 20 years ago, that had sent shivers across my body.

When we arrived at the shaman’s village we set out on a long hike. During this journey, we took the time to sit individually in the forest and be with nature. Our destination was a sacred waterfall where we snuffed a liquid tobacco infusion and set our intentions for the night to come.

Returning to the village we waited until night fell. Ayuhuasca increases your photo sensitivity, even helping you to see in the dark, so it is not done during the day.

Finally, it was time. We sat in a circle around the shaman. The ayuhuasca had already been brewed and awaited us in a plastic soda bottle—another oddity in my mind, but I suppose they do make good carrying vessels able to be reused. One at a time we sat in front of the shaman as he chanted and whistled into each cup. When he was done he handed it to us and down the hatch the liquid went.

I had heard stories of how awful ayuhuasca tastes. Yet being used to some powerfully bitter and bad tasting herbs, like reishi and tongkat ali, I have to say it wasn’t that bad. It was not an enjoyable taste, but not the worst thing ever.

After the whole group had drank, we were invited to go lie down on our palm leaves under the stars. These were laid out in a large semi-circle around the hut, with plenty of space between people. Ayuhuasca is not a social drug; instead, with it you’re meant to engage in a personal journey.

I sat there and wondered. Was it starting to come on? My body felt…something. My eyes saw figures appearing in the clouds above. But that happens normally when we stare at clouds, right?

A short time later, each person was invited to drink a second cup if they chose. I did so, not sure if I’m really feeling it yet, and certainly not feeling the strong effects I desired.

Our group had about ten people taking the journey. We also had helpers that were not taking the ayuhuasca there to lend a hand to those who were. Off in the distance I could hear the others beginning to purge.

I wait. It seems everyone else is purging. I notice some nearby can’t even walk and need to be almost carried to the shaman for his cleansing.

And I wait. Time is hard to tell waiting under the stars. My body still felt that strange something but I’m not seeing anything spectacular. No psychedelic trip of fractal imagery or anything like that. I can feel frustration begin to build up inside my body. Why isn’t it working?

I am let down. I had come all this way, waiting years to do this, and it doesn’t affect me. Anger rises, and I try to let it go. It’s an odd thing to be jealous of people who are throwing up, but I was.

I get up and walk around. Most everyone else is partially paralyzed it seems. Finally, a little nausea comes on. I try to make myself throw up, but this is unsuccessful.

Maybe two hours has passed. Or three or four. I talk to one of the helpers and say let’s do a third cup. Mind you, no one else had drunk a third cup. Everyone else just had one. And one other guy, twice my size, had stopped at two.

I sit down with the shaman once again. He begins his whistling. Suddenly I am overcome with incredible nausea. I pause for a moment, thinking can I hold this in? No. I turn to the helper, Daniel, and say I need to vomit. He points to a spot a few paces away and I stumble over and let it all out.

Well, at least that finally happened.

After I am finished there, I notice the shaman is still whistling into that cup. I wonder, what is the protocol at this point? I sit down in front of the shaman and soon enough he hands me the third cup. Down the hatch once again. It is much worse on the way out then the way in. That being said, purging and drinking back to back only amplifies ayahuasca’s bitter taste.

I go back to my palm leaf. Part of me is filled with nervousness. A third cup? I have heard the visions come on strong after purging. Maybe I’m in for something very intense.

I wait for maybe another hour. During this time, I’m fascinated by the jaguar sounds the shaman is making. He’s working on healing someone. The growl emanates from deep inside his throat, and always ends the same, with him spitting onto the ground. Over and over again.

Eventually, I figure the visionary experience is just not going to happen for me. My thinking is that, for whatever reason, my ayuhuasca journey was meant to be entirely somatic. I’ve certainly been feeling things throughout my body, and I purged. Perhaps the visions only would have gotten in the way of the medicine. My conscious mind wasn’t to be entertained, and everything would take place in the unconscious.

Waiting, while full of anticipation, can be exhausting, so I head indoors. Indoors was the shaman’s hut. Unlike most of the Achuar people, he did have walls on his house. This was a defensive measure, as at one point he was the target of an assassination attempt because someone had accused him of using his shamanic powers for evil.

Our “beds” are simply palm leaves on the ground, though here we have mosquito netting around. I drift off into uncomfortable sleep, waking up once to head outside and dry heave heavily, and waking a second time to finish the deed more fully.
I don’t recall any dreams that night or morning though I’m sure they occurred. At daybreak, we begin to arise. We weren’t supposed to talk about our journeys until later, but after that surreal night, what else are you going to talk about?

After breakfast, we reconvene in the shaman’s hut for him to interpret our visions. The process is lengthy as we first speak in English, have it translated to Spanish, and finally to Achuar. And then the reverse. This process is a good teacher of patience.

One after another my group shares their visions and receives insights into them. When my turn comes, I share something much like you just read.

Although my story was quite short in comparison to the others, the shaman spends more time speaking than in the others. In a nutshell, he says that my expectations were too high and that I had somehow messed up the instructions at the waterfall the day earlier.

He also said that I had visions, powerful visions, that I just don’t remember.

What he saw was the whole forest talking to me.

Plus, at some point (spiritually not physically) I came up to him, shook his hand and said I wanted to be friends.

Quite naturally, this changed my viewpoint on my journey, and I would continue to contemplate it for some time. Having grown up in the West, to be able to enter the mystical realm I have fought to shift some of the viewpoints I had simply culturally absorbed. Considering that ayuhuasca and visions are the shaman’s realm, I believe it’s suitable to take his viewpoint with at least equal weight to my own, if not more so.

The rest of the day was spent heading back to our home base in the Amazon at the Kapawi Lodge, then relaxing there. As we rejoin with the whole group we pass our experiences back and forth. The larger group has been broken up into three different smaller groups, each one working with a different shaman. And very much in need of it, we all go to bed early.

The next morning John Perkins leads us on a ceremony to help us integrate the journey. They say that taking ayuhuasca lasts a lifetime. Its effects can spread far and wide. Sometimes people even have delayed reactions. The shaman’s interpretation was a helpful stepping stone, and it would require even more work to integrate the teaching.

John begins to rhythmically beat the drum. I close my eyes, relax, and enter what the shaman saw the previous night…

Bom, bom, bom. The forest is talking to me and I begin shapeshifting from tree to tree. The great Kapok tree. Massive palms of many varieties. The “walking trees” of the jungle.

Bom, bom, bom. The same words from the Achuar now spoken from the rainforest to me: “If you’re coming to help us you’re wasting your time. If you’re coming because you realize your salvation is tied into our own, then let us work together.”

Bom, bom, bom. Shaking the shaman’s hands. A conversation ensues. Secret whispers I can’t quite make out, but the weight of importance is there…

Bom, bom, bom. A mission. A calling. An initiation. The journey occurred exactly as it was meant to.

Bom, bom, bom. The words flash across my mind, as the trees say that I am to be an…

“Emissary of Nature.”

The drum journey comes to an end. Those of us that wish to are invited to share, and I do so. Several people later tell me that my story gave them goosebumps. I’m reminded of the suggestion I’ve often heard to “follow the goosebumps.”

This short drum journey proved to be more amazing than my ayuhuasca experience, though, of course, one could not have happened without the other.

Message received. But then the question over the next few days became, “What the hell do I do with that?”

Shortly after returning home I was back out to another Maverick 1000 event. This one was Camp Maverick, in the Connecticut mountains. The tagline is “Summer Camp for Entrepreneurs,” and that’s exactly what it is.

A group of more than one hundred entrepreneurs from all fields get together to share knowledge and party. This looks like several business sessions during the day, then activities like archery dodgeball and slip-and-slide kickball in the afternoon and dressing up for “prom” at night. The fact that I won as prom queen, because I was dressed up as the Stephen King character Carrie sums it up pretty well. Great times!

One of the optional activities was water skiing—only my second time trying the sport. In my first attempt, I wasn’t able to stand up successfully. This time I was determined to do so. And I was successful. Although none of my runs were very long, I was able to stand a few times.

“Just one more,” I yelled to the driver of the boat. And once again I was up and going…until I wasn’t. When I hit the water, one of the skis came off my foot and cracked me right in the forehead.

I was dazed. Still conscious, I wasn’t sure of the damage. I thought my skull could be split open. I put my hand to my head but didn’t find the blood I expected. The boat came around, I got on, and was taken ashore to medical. It was bleeding slightly but not too bad. I certainly felt the impact, but wouldn’t say I was concussed, having experienced that misery before.

I like to think I have a thick skull as well as a strong neck, which is useful for absorbing impacts. I counted myself as lucky that the ski hit there and not my eyes or nose instead. A large lump did come up though.

The next day I was making a joke to a group of people about my third eye being activated because it was exactly in that spot. One of the people in that group was another shaman named Sheryl Netzky. Although I was joking, she replied, “Actually…” and offered to do some energy work on it.

I gladly accepted. I could feel something going on as she explained that sometimes a physical whack on the head like that is part of something spiritual. An awakening of sorts. I couldn’t help but think back to the Amazon, not even a week prior, as she spoke.

When I returned home from camp I decided I would continue to work with Sheryl. It felt like the appropriate next step, the leading of this golden thread, the continuation of this story, and so I went with that feeling.

We set up a call to discuss what that would look like and, importantly, what I sought from it. Still on my mind in a big way was the idea of being an emissary of nature.

What was that to look like in my everyday life?

And so, as the sessions began, that path further unfolded. I began spending much more time in nature. I got back to communicating directly with plants. And after a bit of time I started to write this story and this book.

This calling wasn’t completely new to me. I’d been preaching the benefits of nature to health for years. My herbal supplement company, Lost Empire Herbs, is all about this. I had communicated directly with plants many times, and not just the so-called psychedelic ones. Details on that to come later.

Yet here it wasn’t about what “I” wanted or was doing. Nature itself was calling me to have us work together. We needed to be mutually beneficial allies.

Humans can’t “save” nature. Nature can’t “save” humans. Neither of these ideas work as they’re created via the wrong perception. The fact is that humans are part of nature, however much we try to deny it and remove ourselves from ecology. But we can get back in alignment. We can work together in a true ecology that supports all.

It became clear that my mission was expanding. Nature was calling me to take the mantle, to be an emissary–a person on a special mission, usually as a diplomatic representative.

As an emissary, I needed to communicate how to live more in alignment with nature to the masses.

What you are reading now is the unfolding of this mission and the message of nature, using me as an emissary to deliver it. I don’t claim to have all the answers, but as William Shakespeare wrote, “In nature’s infinite book of secrecy a little I can read.” On that note, let me share with you some of the secrets I have discovered…