top of page

An african story

Ibogajourney



It is a sweet, quiet peace ...

I feel an understanding without words that I did not know before. It is consciousness. Great and deeper than ever before. I understand many indescribable things. I have not known how to love. I have lived without living I see my little mind, when it is separate, as a fragment of my I-understanding, consciousness-it is the same. There are no words, but understanding is infinite without time.


Here we have a characteristic example from the world of Ibogain, both in its luminous and in its dark side: the white ray of light and the cave with monsters, the sun and the black pond with the hidden crocodile. We also see how the hellish and heavenly scenes follow each other: After her initial outburst of anger (which she describes as the eruption of a volcano) comes an epoch of light. She feels full of joy and starts to beat further

the ground with her hands, and the A-Egos appear.


She cannot maintain the fear of the unknown and the primitive for long; the image fades, and as she prepares to rest, she sees the light coming through the bell tower. At the climax of this pleasant episode, she wants to move, to get up and overcome darkness. This time the process does not stop by itself. She looks away; she cannot resist it. The incompleteness of the process probably leads her to another dark scene, as if there were something she could assimilate in this darkness. Now the worst part seems to be over, or she has become somewhat numb to the fear from the repeated attempts to stay with her. Now at least she can look at the monsters and feel calm despite her revulsion. Movement is again what seems to impress her most (as with the Negroes and the


The shifts of visual confrontation seem to be over by now, as she can describe the monster in detail and endure the discomfort. The goal now is to see the "monster" and give it what it wants, a proper place within herself, because the image has emerged from her own reality. Interestingly, trembling means dancing to it. Obviously, trembling or dancing meets with great resistance in her. She finally gives in to the trembling, and I speak of this as "giving in" because at that moment she no longer experiences herself as intentionally doing or performing, but as being moved by a genuine urge. And at the moment she begins to tremble, we experience the transition from the world of monsters to the world of light that is now emerging in her own body.


v The feeling of rage at the beginning of the session, the primitive sensual drumming, the crocodile with electric movements and the trembling of the monster all point to the same instinctive domain that the patient held in abeyance at the expense of feeling Complete. It is no wonder that only now, when she has stopped resisting, can she also see that her "little mind" was only a part of her I AM. Dancing - the spontaneity of movement, in which basic aggression and sensuality are united and harmonized - was at the same time her deepest desire and greatest taboo. Dancing would also give her freedom. But she did not dance yet. She only prompted herself to do so, believing that I had suggested it (i.e., projecting your unconfirmed urge into the outside world as an expectation). The unfinished situation occurs more than once. About



I stand up The doctor asked me something. What was it? Dancing? Trembling? To bring back the rhythm of the blacks? Or that I was imitating the cactus animal? I don't know. Maybe I didn't know either. But I see myself standing in front of a huge drum. Behind the drum I see many Negroes moving to a rhythm. They have thick lips, painted white and skirts made of white stripes hanging from a red belt. Their legs and chests are bare. I press the drum hard with my right hand and then with my left. I have something like wooden hammers in my hand, and I beat with them. I stop drumming to carry the rhythm with my body. I want to dance. It doesn't come out right. I try again and can't. Then, among the Negroes, I see Maria's white, smiling face. Her expression changes as I look at her, and she laughs out loud. She mocks me for not being able to dance. I am so angry that I throw the hammer and kill someone, but I don't care. Something is interrupted. The doctor asks me to recall the scene, but I find it impossible. I sit down and lie down. The

Doctor speaks, but I can't remember what he says. All I know is that I can't understand, I can't comprehend. Something is happening.



Then I suddenly realize that I have been sexually aroused for a long time. I say that. The doctor tells me, "Give in to your desire. Feel it." And then I feel as if someone took my legs and moved them in such a way that it became like a sexual act. There's no orgasm - or thousands - it's hard to explain. Ruth nothing ends. Arousal continues. Again I see beautiful landscapes, sunsets, vegetation, the sea, large areas of desert and the sun as a wonderful ball of fire in the background. I say, "How beautiful! " The doctor asked me not to judge whether what I see is beautiful or ugly, but simply to describe it. But how can I not say it when it is so beautiful? The feeling of being, the feeling of rough vibrations heat up and sink into my flesh. I want to say a thousand times, "I am me, I am me, I am." It is everything and too much. half an hour later I ask her to imitate the animal again and feels that she has not succeeded. This is how she describes the episode three days later:

I stand up The doctor asked me something. What was it? Dancing? Trembling? To bring back the rhythm of the blacks? Or that I was imitating the cactus animal? I don't know. Maybe I didn't know either. But I see myself standing in front of a huge drum. Behind the drum I see many Negroes moving to a rhythm. They have thick lips, painted white and skirts made of

white stripes hanging from a red belt. Their legs and chests are bare. I press the drum hard with my right hand and then with my left. I have something like wooden hammers in my hand, and I beat with them. I stop drumming to carry the rhythm with my body. I want to dance. It doesn't come out right. I try again and can't. Then, among the Negroes, I see Maria's white, smiling face. Her expression changes as I look at her, and she laughs out loud. She mocks me for not being able to dance. I am so angry that I throw the hammer and kill someone, but I don't care. Something is interrupted. The doctor asks me to recall the scene, but I find it impossible. I sit down and lie down. The

Doctor speaks, but I can't remember what he says. All I know is that I can't understand, I can't comprehend. Something is happening here.



Again we see here the transition from the dark underworld of instinct to the beauty of the whole earth, the sun. However, there are differences between this and the previous ones. She participates more actively this time, as a drummer who is practically one with the crowd of dancing Negroes, actually beating (the floor) with her hands and finally wanting to dance instead of feeling under instruction to do so. And she feels

murderous rage too, although this moment puts an end to the scene. Another difference gives us a clue to understand her rigidity and difficulty in dancing in a special friend (Maria) who laughs at her for not doing it well. Her pride will not necessarily accept the spontaneity of her movements. They must be perfect according to pre-established standards so there is no room for improvisation, unrestricted flow of action and animal intuition. Finally, she becomes sexually aroused, and this is no longer a symbol, but an experience that she allows herself to have and express through her own body.

It is interesting to note that during the phases ( II )of dissolution and integration (III), the images are no longer otherworldly, but rather like a synthesis of the dark, wet plant and animal world with the world of pure light, sky and expansion. Such a synthesis is the ordinary world, though seen without ordinary eyes. I am reminded of Blake's


It is interesting to note that later, during the phases of dissolution (II) and integration (III), the images seen are no longer otherworldly, but rather like a synthesis of the dark, wet plant and animal world with the world of pure light, sky and expanse. Such a synthesis is the ordinary world, although it is seen without ordinary eyes.




1 view0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Comments


bottom of page