Wachuma ceremony: a journey of reflection and renewal
Experiencing a San Pedro ritual in the sacred valley of Peru 🌵
After a shamanistic tantra retreat in Peru, I had the opportunity to participate in a Wachuma ceremony, guided by two local shamans and their son. This sacred ritual, rooted in the ancient traditions of the Andean people, involves the use of the San Pedro cactus, known for its ability to connect individuals with God, nature, or their inner selves.
While I normally don’t use psychedelics, in a dream during the retreat a few weeks before, I had gotten the strong ‘message’ that I needed to purge an old relationship. This ceremony took place in the Sacred Valley, just two days after the solstice and just before the new year; a perfect time to reflect, let go and set new intentions for the year ahead. The intimacy of the group and the setting felt safe and right, making it an experience I couldn’t resist.
The experience
We drove to a remote location outside the village and had to walk a narrow path through corn fields to reach the location of the ceremony, surrounded by majestic mountains. We were a small, familiar group from the retreat, which fostered a sense of trust and connection. Yacu and Kuntur, the shamans, had guided some of the rituals during our tantra retreat. Their son also joined. I met Araq earlier this year during another ISTA retreat in Argentina. He had been sent by his parents to represent their ancient traditions. I admired their openness and willingness to share their traditions and learn from ours.
The shamans had prepared the San Pedro cactus—which they respectfully and lovingly call ‘grandfather Wachuma’—themselves. They offered the green gel-like substance to us in four doses throughout the ceremony, corresponding to the four directions (north, east, south, west) and different parts of our beings (mind, heart, physical body, spirit).
As someone highly sensitive to substances, I took only a minimal amount—a full cup at first and three tiny sips of the next three offerings. I had been told the taste would be horrible, but the first cup tasted just ‘green’ and a bit slimy, not too bad. However, the next three rounds left me feeling increasingly nauseous, and I felt more and more resistance to taking another sip. By the end, I couldn’t stand the smell that lingered all around me. While others purged, I remained nauseous but unable to release. Despite the physical discomfort, I felt deeply relaxed and gained valuable insights.
At the start of the ceremony, I had visions of the Mexican countryside and villages, where life was similar to life in the Andes. I wondered if this tradition could also be found there. I also saw neon-colored patterns, reminiscent of traditional San Pedro embroidery. The day after the ceremony I painted a Wachuma cactus on a stone with a yellow neon line around it:
Sometimes I saw the ceiling ‘breathe’ as if it were alive, and this became my ‘test’ to check if I was still ‘in the experience.’ The shamans told us that we would float in and out of the connection, like waves, and that is exactly how I experienced it.
The ceremony itself was enchanting. The shaman family played traditional instruments like guitars, pan flutes, bamboo flutes, and drums. They also taught our group to play a few call-and-response songs on the pan flutes. Music was accompanied by Yacu’s high-pitched, ethereal singing. It was so mesmerizing!
I recorded a snippet to capture the magic:
Though I was nauseous throughout, I found joy in the music and the group’s energy. The remote natural setting, surrounded by ancient mountains, added to the enchantment. A thunderstorm rolled in, intensifying the experience. The interplay of nature’s raw power and the group’s serene energy made the ceremony unforgettable.
Teachings of the shamans
The shamans shared some profound wisdom, emphasizing “Ayni,” or reciprocity—the idea that we are constantly receiving from the Earth and the unseen realms, so we can focus on giving in return. That was also why we had to fast for 24 hours before the ceremony: not only so that our bodies could better absorb the medicine, but also to give something back before receiving the wisdom and experience of Wachuma.
They also spoke of duality, where opposing forces like beauty and ugliness, masculine and feminine, divide us. They introduced the concept of trivalence, a third connecting element that bridges these opposites. For example, between beauty and ugliness lies a body to be appreciated and received for what it is. Their wisdom spoke to our subconscious, enhanced by the altered state we were in.
Personal insights
The night before the ceremony, I couldn’t sleep. Restless, I revisited old journal entries from when I first met my ex—the man who later caused me so much pain. It felt surreal to reread the immense love and connection we shared and to remember how open and utterly happy I had been. Because of all the pain and anger in the past years, I had almost forgotten that happiness. It was so special, that I even wrote multiple times, “If it ended now, it would still be worth it.” That sentiment felt like a message from the past me to my present self. Now, I can embrace the beauty of that love again and be grateful that I experienced at least that, even though in recent years, I doubted if it had been real and felt that it wasn’t worth the pain that followed.
I also reread emails from the time I discovered his affair. His explanations were full of contradictions and attempts to shift the blame. He accused me of being in “victim mode” and of lacking understanding for him. He tried to paint me as a bad person so he could justify his actions, even though I had given him everything with so much love. At the time, his words caused me deep pain. Now, I can see his desperate attempts to make sense of his own mistakes, even as he made a mess of things. I hoped that during the ceremony the next day, I could finally let it all go.
During the ceremony, I revisited that pivotal moment of discovering his affair and all the bullshit stories he gave me. This time, instead of feeling shock and closing off, as I had done back then, I allowed myself to feel the grief fully. I embraced the pain, sadness, and sorrow that I had avoided for so long.
It felt like I was saying goodbye to the relationship and to him in the four parts of the ceremony—my mind, heart, physical body, and spirit.
Reliving those moments, I could release some of the weight that I still carry with me. Finally, as the ceremony came to a close, our souls seemed to take their final farewell. It wasn’t easy, and it still wasn’t entirely done, but I could feel that I was moving closer to peace.
Mystical moments and the parallel with emotions
The ceremony lasted the entire day. Toward the end, I stepped outside and saw a storm building in the mountains. The sky was pitch black, an ominous yet mesmerizing sight. Lightning lit up the mountains. Standing there, something primitive in me took over. I invited the thunder and lightning, growling and calling for more as if I were a priestess summoning death itself. When the lightning intensified, I was yelling, “Give me more! You can do better!”
As the lightning struck closer and harder a twinge of fear struck me. Then it started raining. Big, heavy drops, that hurt my skin as they pelted down on me. But I did not run away. I enjoyed the sensation. Only when I was drenched, I returned indoors. I realized I had confronted my mortality and emerged with a renewed zest for life.
A friend later pointed out the parallel with emotions: at first, they seem scary, but by fully embracing them, you make space to live fully. Just as I invited the storm to grow stronger, I had to invite my emotions to surface completely. The nausea, the grief, and the confrontation with past pain were all part of the process. By embracing the discomfort, I could feel alive again. This taught me that emotions, like storms, need to be experienced in their entirety to bring clarity and renewal.
A new balance
Through the ceremony, I also realized how much I had fostered my masculinity in the past. I thought I needed a stable relationship to provide safety to allow my vulnerable femininity to surface. In past lives, efforts to express my feminine power had often led to rejection or persecution, making me wary of embracing it fully (read this blog about life as a witch in the Middle Ages).
Now, I see that my inner masculine is strong and stable enough to provide the foundation I need. With this inner balance, I feel ready to step into my feminine priestess energy safely and powerfully, without relying on external relationships.
Conclusion
The Wachuma ceremony did not seem ‘spectacular’ at first, but in hindsight, it was a profound journey of reflection, release, and renewal. It brought closure to old wounds, helped me embrace my emotions fully, and revealed a deeper sense of balance within myself.
The music, the storm, and the group’s energy created a magical experience that I will carry with me. By facing both the beauty and the chaos, I found a newfound peace—a reminder that life, like a storm, is to be felt deeply and lived fully.
PS if you want to experience Wachuma / San Pedro, please make sure you do that with an experienced facilitator, with respect for the local customs and traditions, in a way that the local community also benefits.