I climbed into the passenger seat as my dad took his place behind the wheel. He had been absent for weeks after my mom finally kicked him out of the house for his destructive heroin addiction. I was fifteen, about to get my tonsils out after an unrelenting illness. I had just found out that he stole my life savings, drained our family’s finances, and put us into bankruptcy to fuel his addiction. He’d asked my mom if he could drive me to my pre-op appointment, and we agreed. Life was swirling with chaos and lies, making it hard to grasp any sense of safety, but this was the moment I thought the storm would calm. My father was in the driver's seat, and I was along for the ride with a hopeful heart, thinking this would be the moment when he would show me I was loved, despite all the choices he’d made that felt otherwise.

As we turned the corner from our house, it started with a twitch. A small, sudden convulsion that changed everything. I had seen this before. The short drive to the hospital felt like years. My body folded in on itself, instinctively curling into the fetal position, paralyzed with fear. I didn’t move, I couldn’t even look at him as I cried to myself. Then came the vomit.  Panic set in, and I couldn’t escape. My dad was overdosing, and I was trapped there with him.

When we finally pulled up to the hospital, he pointed toward the entrance with seizing hands, unable to form words. I stumbled out, numb, and told the front desk we needed help. Minutes later, I watched as nurses wheeled him past me.

In his stupor, he tried to get away … from responsibility, from his darkness, from me, and from himself. Instead of facing it all, he crawled away in cowardice. When my mom arrived, she didn’t cry. She didn’t yell. She just took me back to school, so she could deal with his repercussions. I sat silently in class, devoid of any emotion that would give away how much pain I was hiding. This was the moment I learned to sacrifice myself to protect others, ensuring that dark secrets remained hidden. It was after this experience that I started making choices to hide the darkest parts of me and my family, curating an image that didn’t reflect my reality. I wasn’t conscious of it at the time, but after this moment, I chose to walk away from my center and start wearing masks to conceal the truth. 

Over the next decade, I tried everything to save my father. I bought him a car, paid his rent, and showed up for him when he called. Eventually, I moved from Philadelphia to Los Angeles searching for a career, peace, and myself. One night, I stumbled upon a documentary that opened a new door of possibility. The documentary was about Ayahuasca, an ancient medicine being used to heal trauma and addiction. I thought this was it, this is how I “fix” my dad.

Over the years, I pursued the science behind it. As a doctoral student in clinical neuropsychology, I’ve dedicated my career to studying the neurobiology of drugs; those of abuse and those for therapeutic healing. I began studying the mechanisms of psychedelic therapies and co-authored research exploring how opioid addiction appears in preclinical neuroimaging. I’m still so amazed by the science. Ayahuasca is neither neurotoxic nor addictive. It has been demonstrated in laboratory studies to promote neurogenesis, the growth of new neurons, and enhance dendritic branching, which facilitates the formation of new connections. This process, known as neuroplasticity, enables the brain to create new pathways that support fresh perspectives and emotional healing. While research is always ongoing, the science so far suggests that Ayahuasca may help the brain grow, rewire, and heal in remarkable ways. That’s just the science; the divination of Ayahuasca holds answers that science can’t, and those answers can only be found through direct experience.

Sadly, my dad never got the chance to sit with Ayahuasca. And it wasn’t until he succumbed to his addiction that I started to realize why I was being called to Ayahuasca. It was never for him; it was for me. 

I was 36, and the consequences of my life choices began to reveal how trapped I was and how much I was suffering. In an attempt to explore how I arrived in such a difficult place, I began to explore and unravel what it meant to be a free and sovereign being. Sovereignty is more than freedom; it is the conscious choice to live authentically. Sovereignty is standing in our weakness and making choices that align with our higher self. Sovereignty is about sharing our light to serve others. Ultimately, I realized that in my lifelong pursuit of safety, I lost my sovereignty and myself.

In due course, I found myself in the process of leaving an abusive marriage, seeking answers as to why I was so unlovable and unseen by my father, husband, and many others throughout my life. It was finally time to sit with Ayahuasca, and after deciding I was ready, I was led to Celestial Heart by what felt like a divinely orchestrated conversation with a very dear friend.

The morning of my first ceremony, I fought with myself for the entire drive to the temple, looking for any excuse to turn around. Fear dominated: fear of partaking in a religion that was different than the only one I knew, fear of having to purge in a circle of 30 others, but especially fear of what would be revealed to me.

As I walked in, I was greeted by the most open and genuine humans. They reassured me that it was OK to be afraid. (And, as I’ve come to learn since then, if you’re not a little bit scared, you’re probably not going deep enough.) I sat next to the most incredible man who graciously walked me through every unknown of the ceremony and held my hand when I needed help. I was in awe of everything that transpired that weekend. I danced, I purged, I cried, and I witnessed the beauty of this sacrament. 

As I left the temple, I felt that there was still much work to be done. To be honest, it wasn’t what I expected. I didn’t find easy answers, the visions didn’t show me buried memories, and I didn’t leave with a clear direction on my next steps. But as the days passed, something began to happen. We say that ceremony begins when ceremony ends, and it was during my integration process that the revelations began. 

The internal conflicts I had carried for decades - the beliefs that I must protect others at the cost of my truth, and that uncomfortable truths should always be hidden - grew louder until I could no longer ignore them. They revealed themselves for what they were: lies. Holding onto them became unbearable, leaving me with no choice but to change. I had worked tirelessly to curate the image of a peaceful life, and I had convinced myself that the image was real.  But the facade I’d built started to crumble because it wasn’t built on truth. It crumbled as I started making different choices, choices now rooted in integrity and in faith. Those choices broke me open. Yet as I rebuild, I’m discovering that the foundation beneath me is now stronger and more steadfast than I ever could have imagined.

As I reflect on an entire year of sitting with Ayahuasca, I barely recognize the woman who sat in that first ceremony. I have had some incredibly difficult ceremonies that forced me to surrender: surrender to the discomfort of having lived inauthentically, surrender to the dark parts of me, and surrender to the divine plan. Before Ayahuasca, I suffered proudly and I suffered alone. The beauty of this work lies in its collaborative nature; the ceremony is done in community with others. In those challenging ceremonies, I was held by angels, both in the astral and on this earth. The guidance I received from Ayahuasca during those challenging ceremonies was to allow others to witness my process and to let them help. After 30 years of hiding away in shame, I was finally letting people in. And I was finally starting to heal. 

Looking back on that first ceremony and my intention to understand why I felt so unlovable, I can now say with conviction: I am lovable and loved. On the one-year anniversary of my first ceremony, my Celestial Heart family surprised me with a blessing after I had gone through a very difficult period in my personal life. I was showered with flower petals, and a crown was placed on my head. It was the most extraordinary surprise, and I felt so LOVED! What a full circle moment to feel so whole and easily loved after a year of trying to figure out why I was so broken and unlovable. Oh, and that incredible man that I sat next to in my first ceremony is now my incredible partner. 

It has been the most difficult year of my life, yet it has been the best year of my life. Isn’t it funny how these two seemingly opposing realities can both be true? In fact, it’s become clear to me that our material life on this planet is full of paradoxes, and each one holds important lessons. That is one of the many things that Ayahuasca teaches us: to question our assumptions, our beliefs, and occasionally even the things we hold to be true. She teaches us to remain open to all of it. 

My year with Ayahuasca has taught me that healing occurs when that which is done in the dark is brought to the light - when we face our darkness and confront our resistance to it.  She taught me not to passively curl up in the fetal position in the passenger seat as someone else takes the wheel. But rather to be the driver of my life: an active participant and the author of my own story.. That is sovereignty. 

I have deep respect for this sacred medicine, for those who sit with her, and for those who have not yet sat but feel the call and will come to do this work in the future. I am deeply grateful for Kai and Jade, who lead this community with such intention and a divine mission. My Celestial Heart family, you are unicorns and rainbows that illuminate the darkness. Hunter, you are the music dancing me out of the darkness. You are the most incredible man to whom words of gratitude will never do justice. To those who have not yet experienced Ayahuasca’s magic, I send you courage and curiosity. Last but most certainly not least, Ayahuasca, Queen of the Forest, I bow in reverence and commit to continuing the good work. 

Just one year sitting with the sacrament of Ayahuasca, I courageously take my position in the driver's seat on this path toward sovereignty. Brothers and sisters, I offer my hand, my heart, and my soul as we walk this journey together.  

And so it is.