It felt like there were very few moments where I wasn't sleeping.
We wrapped up our second day "cook" session of making the Sanango tea, and I went back to my bungalow to scrub my hands. I had the fuzzy branch layer caked under my nails, and I knew if I touched my eyes or mouth that it would like things on fire.
But the water pressure from the sink was weak. So I opted to take a shower, hoping that water stream would be powerful enough to obliterate the dirt. The water was too cold for me, and I only quickly jumped into the stream with my whole body. I kept my finger tips in the stream longer. And I wished I could use a nailbrush and soap.
Feeling cleaner, I dressed and crawled into my mosquito net. It was light outside, and I could hear the birds and cricket-sounding creatures of the jungle as I fell asleep. I would wake every few hours from an active dream space, noting details in my journal. By the first time I woke up, it was dark out, and I was having to use the battery-powered lantern placed in my room by the staff.
My body woke on instinct at 2:40am, five minutes before my alarm was set to go off and the drum would be beaten outside by staff.
It was time to dress in my yoga pants and t-shirt, and head back to the ceremony house.
My stomach turned, and Sanango filled my taste and smell senses.
"You don't need to drink," the voice said to me.
I walked quickly the few strides from my bungalow to the ceremony house. I barely took notice of the night sky with the absence of light pollution. Just being in the same place as the medicine made my body shudder.
I let the shamans know quietly that I wouldn't be drinking.
By 3am, everyone was in the space, and they were going up to get their dose.
"I keep getting the bottom of the cup," noted one of the guests. "That's where all the grit of the medicine is."
Not a pleasant experience. I'd had the bottom of one of the cups the night before. I knew exactly what he meant.
We sat in darkness and silence for about 30 minutes. I rocked back and forth in my chair, listening to the mix of the jungle at night combined with the occasional heaving of a person having the medicine come up and into their bucket.
A few people had "trampolined" the medicine. My Sanango tour from 2016 had me "trampolining" the medicine the second and third nights.
"It takes just a little for you," the voice said to me.
The time passed more quickly than it felt. And soon enough we were allowed to go back to our bungalows if we wanted, but we were reminded to be back at the main house by 7am.
I stepped outside the ceremony house and looked up at the sky.
A waning Moon. Winding down a cycle.
My body wanted even more sleep. I crawled into bed, realizing I hadn't had any food in about 36 hours, and barely any water.
That's probably why I am so tired. I'm peeling away some energy I don't need, and not taking any new energy in to replace it.
I hoped I wouldn't be hungry when the Sun rose.