We already know that cancer can
be suppressed by protocols that make the blood alkaline. This sometimes leads directly to a cure. The most direct is the maple syrup; baking
soda combination and less direct but also highly beneficial is the vegan diet. Faced with such a diagnosis, that would be my
first clear choice simply because I can do it directly without any special
assistance.
A vegan diet is highly beneficial
in the event and should be at least be used as our dietary standard as a matter
of course, however often we stray.
That leads me back to Ayahuasca.
I will make the conjecture that this brew opens the barrier between our mind and what I prefer to describe as the Ubermind, allowing it to act as your servant to cleanse the disease from you or tackle anything else as well as is hinted at in this report. The Ubermind is the physical creation of intelligence on Earth and has been called GOD, although not in the form understood by the ignorant. It guides human development and we all are its agents provided we are able to listen and heed.
Edgar Cayce accessed this Ubermind and performed thousands of individual queries. The pattern is the same. It took me decades to piece together his prediction regarding Bimini but it did prepare my mind to look there. However, the problem with the Ubermind is learning to ask the right questions.
This report describes a man who
had a death sentence with zero prospects of survival. The whole problem was handled in two sessions. His description is what one could expect as
the interpretation of an invasive curative protocol that searches for and
corrects all flaws.
I do not want to give people
false hope. Yet that is what modern
medicine and most of the alternatives are selling at best. A modest delay is never worth paying for in
pain and agony and a morphine drip that can be turned up at anytime you become
inconvenient.
The alkaline protocol is strongly
indicated as helpful and certainly it is not dangerous. The Ayahuasca protocol has no other reports
to hand although I am sure that can be remedied.
Ayahuasca and Cancer: One Man’s Experience
May 17, 2013
Donald M. Topping. Ph.D.
A year ago I never dreamed that I would be writing about two subjects,
both of which are generally considered taboo. One of these is cancer. We avoid
talking about cancer – “the Big C” – because it speaks of our fears of
mortality and pain. When an office mate is rumored to have cancer, she is
viewed differently. We avoid the topic, or speak in whispers about it. We wish
it would go away.
For entirely different reasons, ayahuasca is
talked about in muzzled tones. The Drug Enforcement Administration – the grand
arbiter of all chemicals in America – is responsible for this taboo and has
classified DMT, one of its constituents, as a Schedule I drug, thereby
rendering it illegal and nearly unavailable for fascinating medical,
psychological, neuroscientific, and spiritual research. Like cancer, we tend to
talk about it in whispers, too.
Since I now enjoy the privileges of a recently retired person, and a
friend of cancer and ayahuasca, I can speak freely about them both. I say
“friend” because that is the way I now see the relationship I have with both.
My direct connection with cancer probably started with my birth sixty-eight years ago, which sent me into the world with a genetic structure determined, at least in part, by family members of previous generations on both sides who had died of metastacized colo-rectal cancer. If there is any validity to the genetic predilection theory, I was directly in line for a first hand experience with cells gone amok to form tumors.
Diagnosis
And that is precisely what happened to me ten years ago when I was diagnosed with cancer of the colon. Since I felt great, I had doubts about the accuracy of the diagnosis, and requested to see the biopsy along with a pathologist. Sure enough, with the aid of a microscope, I saw with my own eyes the little cells, all bunched up like globs of red mud. How did that happen? I wondered.
Immediate surgery was the order of the day. I begged off in order to
experiment with natural healing. The surgeon and I agreed on a four-month
timetable, during which I followed a naturopathic regimen: micro-doses of
various substances, vegetarian diet, visualization and plenty of rest and
exercise. After this period, the second biopsy revealed no cancer cells. I was
overjoyed; the surgeon seemed disappointed, and asked for another biopsy in two
weeks, to which I agreed.
This time around he was able to dig up some more tissue with cancer
cells, and convinced me that I should have the surgery. I did, and was told
five years later that I had been “cured” through the wonders of surgery.
Relapse
All went well until September 1996, when a routine physical exam revealed that my CEA count – an indicator of carcinogenic activity – was up. Another blood test shortly thereafter showed the CEA count going up rapidly. Further exams were conducted, during which two suspicious looking dark shadows were seen on the right lobe of my liver. A biopsy was soon performed on the tissue taken from the shadowed area. The verdict from the pathologist: the Big C.
Having lost a grandfather and father to metastatic liver cancer, I was seriously concerned over this new development. What to do? A preliminary conference with one of the oncologists said that surgery might be a possibility, provided there were no other tumors in my vital organs or lymph glands. That meant further exams.
Prognosis
While waiting for the results, I went to the
“The spread of malignant cells from a primary tumor to the liver and
their growth therein carry a grave prognosis for the patient. While these
meta-static liver tumors may be the first evidence of the progression of a
patient’s cancer, and often – especially in colorectal cancer – are the only
tumors detected, they almost always signal widespread dissemination of the
malignancy. Despite improvements in early detection of liver
metastases, new drug development, improved surgical techniques for resection,
and innovative targeted therapies, most patients will not survive.” (p. 2201)
The remainder of the chapter was devoted to sustaining that dismal
prognosis. In a word, the future looked pretty grim. Until, that is, I began to
seek information on alternative therapies.
Seeking an alternative
I turned first to Dr. Andrew Weil, who recommended the following: 1) have the tumor surgically removed, if possible; 2) start taking micro-doses of maitake mushroom extract; 3) read Michael Lerner’s book, Choices in Healing.
While waiting for my mail-order requests for the maitake and Lerner’s book, I had further meetings with surgeons, who were not exactly reassuring. I was told by one that my chances for survival were around 25-30%. Another put it at under 15%, if you factor in the risks of the surgical procedure itself. It appeared that they had read De Vito’s cancer bible, too. They also advised me that if surgery was possible, I should follow it up with a year of fairly heavy chemotherapy in order to kill off any remaining cancerous cells (along with the majority of healthy ones) that were undoubtedly floating around in my bloodstream.
When the Lerner book arrived in the mail, I sat down and read through its 621 fascinating pages as rapidly as possible. At the same time, I began taking the maitake mushroom extract, and to prepare myself both physically and mentally for the surgery and the follow- up. During this period I discovered other literature on alternative therapies, including Essiac, macrobiotic diets, reiki and coffee enemas, all of which offered as much or more hope than the oncologist’s bible did.
Surgery
The surgeon (aptly named Dr. Payne) removed the right half of my liver on November 26, 1996. During the following five days I was attached to several catheters, one of which shot morphine directly into my spine. It was not until my discharge from the hospital that I realized how badly my body had been assaulted, not just by the surgeon’s knife, but by a mixture of drugs that are part of the arsenal of invasive surgery. The thought of further assault by chemotherapy was frightening.
Sometime during this period of painful recovery from the operation, I
remembered having read something, somewhere about the healing properties of
ayahuasca. I didn’t give it much thought at the time, since it seemed
unlikely that I would be going to the Amazon, and wasn’t particularly
interested in a psychedelic experience. Still, it lingered in the recesses of
my mind, which was still reeling from the physical and psychic wounds of major
surgery, the outcome of which was dubious.
Three weeks after the surgery, I went to my appointment with the
oncologist who proposed beginning the chemotherapy treatment immediately. When
I told him that I had decided against it, because I did not believe that
further assault on my body would be beneficial, he seemed miffed, perhaps even
insulted. When I told him of my plan to follow a program of alternative
therapies, he snickered, but wished me well.
Santo Daime
In early April I heard of a group doing ayahuasca on the
A few weeks later I learned that there would be a “works” on the Big Island ,
and that I could join the group. I readily accepted, even though I was still in
a weakened condition from the surgery. This was to be my introduction to
ayahuasca.
The group met in the late afternoon on an isolated knoll where a devotee of the Santo Daime had built a house, consisting of a large hexagonal room with three or four bedrooms off on the side. (I learned later that the hexagon is an important symbol within the Santo Daime.) About sixty people from all over Hawai’i had gathered for the event, most of whom had done it before. We were all dressed in white (as required), and when the time came to begin we took our seats in chairs that had been arranged in two semi-circles facing each other, men on one side and women on the other. I then began to realize, much to my disappointment, that I was in a very structured, group experience, not at all what I had anticipated from my limited reading on the way ayahuasca is traditionally used in the Amazon. Nevertheless, I entered the experience
with hope, as well as apprehension. The residual pain from the surgery was
a constant reminder of why I was there.
I will not describe the Santo Daime rituals that I observed during the
two successive nights of the “works.” They have been described elsewhere.
Rather, I will focus on my own experience, for which, as it turns out, I was
unprepared. My only frame of reference was limited experiences with LSD,
mushrooms and mescaline during the Sixties, none of which were associated with
healing. I wanted to discover what it was about ayahuasca that led to the
claims of its ability to heal and to teach.
First session
After some preliminary church rituals, we lined up to take our first cup of the brew just after sundown. A second dose was given about two and a half hours later. Within twenty minutes I began to feel what seemed like a faintly familiar rippling effect coursing throughout my body. As I looked around the room, I noticed that others were doing the same, while shifting in their chairs and trying to sing the church versions of icaros in Portuguese. At this point, I began to wonder if I had made the right decision.
Then, all of a sudden, the plant grabbed hold of me, and led me
through a long trip into another reality, one that I was totally unprepared for.
When I attempt to describe the ayahuasca experience to others who know
something of psychedelics, I tell them that things like LSD and mushrooms
distort and give new shapes to the reality that you are familiar with;
ayahuasca takes you to another reality that you’ve never seen nor imagined
before.
As I closed my eyes, images – if they can be called such – began racing
at an ever-increasing speed before me. Swirls of colors, shapes, forms,
textures and sounds simply overpowered me to the point where I became immobile.
Like many others before me, no doubt, I became somewhat frightened. What had I let myself in for? When I opened my eyes, the phantasmagoria of forms vanished, and I saw myself in the same room with the others, all dressed in white, most of whom were moving their lips to the songs being sung by the Brazilians from the Santo Daime. I closed my eyes again, and immediately the images returned with surging intensity. They seemed to be trying to enter the deepest recesses of my body and soul. I found myself thinking, hey, this isn’t much fun.
During this period of initial disorientation, I was able to regain my
focus on what brought me here in the first place. I was a condemned man. The
oncologists and their bible told me that my chances of survival were slim. I
had come to ayahuasca for a second opinion. That is when I began to let go,
and let the plant do its thing. That is when I began to get my first
glimpse into the incredible, stunning world of ayahuasca. There was no going
back now. There was nothing to do now but let it happen.
Ayahuasca visions
As others have reported, I saw plants, serpents, birds and jaguar-like animals soaring, swirling, twisting and racing at almost lightning speed throughout my entire system, as though they were exploring a new habitat. At first, they didn’t pay any attention to me, even though I tried to stop them long enough to have a closer look. Before long, however, one of them would race up to me, pause momentarily, then rush off as though it had urgent business somewhere else. Then another would come up in my face, and do the same thing. There was no time for any communication between myself and the things that I was seeing. It was as though they wanted to take a complete inventory of who I was and what was going on inside me before they were ready to talk.
After a while (one loses track of time with ayahuasca) the figures
began to slow down and fade somewhat in intensity. I was coming down, much
against my will. My questions – whatever they were – had not yet been answered.
At that moment, the Daime leader gave the signal to line up for the second dose
of the brew. I took my place in the line. Needless to say, among the group of
sixty people there had already been a lot of purging through vomiting; I was
not yet among them.
As the second wave came over me, I felt much more relaxed and ready
to talk to the animals if only they would talk to me. As though on cue, the
racing figures began to stop by, look at me and smile before darting off into
their world again. Then, all of a sudden, I saw a deep, black void. Nothing but
darkness, which stayed in place for what seemed like minutes. All of the flashes,
colors and forms disappeared while the blackness hovered over me. I sensed that
it was death making its statement. It seemed to be saying, “Yes, I’m here too,
part of the system; but I’m not so bad, so don’t be afraid.” In a short while,
the darkness began to fade slowly as the kaleidoscopic frenzy returned until
the brew and I both were exhausted, and I returned to my friend’s house for a
long but fitful sleep.
Second session
The group of sixty gathered again the following evening for a second “works,” which I entered with much less trepidation, hoping for another bit of insight from the plant. That proved to be a false hope, probably because the plant had nothing more to tell me. Nevertheless, during the second trip I again felt the presence of the plant racing throughout my body, peeking and poking into every nook and cranny in search of something to work on, to straighten out, to put back in order, to polish. There was a definite presence, with similar shapes, colors and sounds. But, unlike the first time, there was no message that I could discern. The plant was just busy doing its work.
Several months passed before my next experience with ayahuasca. In
the interim, I had continued with my vegetarian diet and Chinese herbs. I was
gradually regaining weight and strength, while the scars and soreness of the
surgery were slowly healing. I wanted to visit with the plant again to see
if it had anything new to tell me, and to determine whether my first experience
was delusional.
Third session
By good fortune, I met a person who had studied ayahuasca in
We arrived at our spot in time to arrange ourselves before the moonless
nightfall. By candle light we practiced deep breathing and toning in
preparation for taking the brew. In ceremonial fashion, including blowing
tobacco smoke over the brew, we each took turns drinking. Soon after, our
leader extinguished the candles, reminding us to “Remember, the plant knows
what it’s doing.” The isolation, silence and darkness were awesome.
I positioned myself comfortably on the ground, my back against the
trunk of a large paper-bark tree. I felt very calm and relaxed, closed my eyes
and waited for the plant to go to work. Once again, after about fifteen minutes
I began to notice the familiar rippling effect. This time, however, the
rippling quickly turned into full-blown turbulence. The plant was loose, and
was wildly racing around exploring its new environment. It felt as though a
caged animal had been released inside me, and was having the time of its life.
As the images and shapes began to appear, they had an air of joy and
exuberance. The serpents were smiling, the jaguars laughing, and the giant
birds swooped down over me caressing me with their outstretched wings. A parade
of persons, both known and unknown, streamed by, each of them smiling and
reaching out to touch me and tell me by look that they loved me. As the
serpents and plants twisted and flashed before me, they appeared to be smiling
and reassuring me that they had looked everywhere inside me, and that everything
was o.k. As the evening went on, this cycle kept repeating. Images would
come directly towards me at breakneck speed, smiling and laughing, then veer
off for another tour of my entire system. I heard myself chuckling softly under
the starlit sky.
Where was the darkness that I had experienced before? Where was Mr. Death, I wondered? Then suddenly, as though the plant heard my question, I saw the void. Only this time it was clearly in the background. It seemed to be peeping through the montage of vibrant colors and forms, as though to say, “I’m still here, don’t worry. It’s not time for me yet.” And then it faded away. As evening turned into night and morning, I saw the images slowing down and gradually fading away, almost reluctantly it seemed. We sure had a good time together that night.
Fourth session
About one month after that memorable night, I revisited Pupukea Highlands for another session, this time with a different mix of six people. I was prepared for a repeat experience, another exciting exploration and reassurance from the plant. But, that was not to be.
This time it was raining, which restricted our space under a makeshift
tent. Again, we followed the procedures of the previous time, breathing, toning
and ceremonially ingesting the brew. I lay down and waited for the action to
begin. This time the onset was much more gradual, and never reached the
intensity of the previous trip. The images were there: birds, serpents, plants,
people. But, they were much less energetic, almost blasé. They seemed to be telling me, “We’ve already been this route, and we told you what we found. Let’s try something new.” Since I had entered the experience with a fixed agenda, the plant reacted as though it were bound. I now look upon that as my fault for not trusting the plant to take the lead.
If ayahuasca could talk in words, I’m sure it would have told me during
that first trip to Pupukea to, “Take this energy that I’m giving you, and run
with it. Latch on to one of the animals and go for the ride. There is nothing
preventing you from soaring to new heights of consciousness and life.” That was
the message that I got that first night in the Pupukea highlands.
Return to the doctor
Approximately two weeks after that session, I went for my scheduled visit with the oncologist. He greeted me warmly, and told me the results of my blood test the week before, which showed that my CEA count – the cancer activity indicator was not just normal. It was below normal! When he asked me what I had been doing to bring that about, I asked him if he had ever heard of ayahuasca. His reply was what one would expect from a physician trained in western allopathic medicine. I got as far as explaining that it is a medicinal plant used for centuries in the Amazon by shamans and healers, at which point he raised his eyebrows, shrugged his shoulders, and was no doubt thinking to himself, “Where did this nut come from anyway?” He ended the office visit with the pronouncement, “You’re one of the lucky few.”
Lucky? Perhaps so. But to dismiss my recovery against the odds as
nothing but luck is to ignore centuries of experience by people who have
learned to live with plants and understand them when they talk. From my experience
thus far, I have learned to respect and listen to the plant, as well as those
who know how to interact in the plant world. With more experience, I hope to
learn some of that language myself. I will continue to treat my body and
my spirit with ayahuasca, and work to teach others to respect it. As a
former professor, the teaching part should come easily. In my current role as
drug policy reformer, I will do all that I can to free this plant from the
strictures that the DEA has so capriciously and arrogantly placed on it. I hope
that people who read this article will join me in this effort.
1 comment:
It's not just plants doctors ignore, they will ignore anything that's not part of their programing, even if you can explain it in scientific terms. The process described at that link is based on information processing.
http://jamesb.hubpages.com/hub/Speed-healing-of-trauma-injuries-through-self-directed-regeneration
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