A multidimensional perspective
In the sacred container of the ayahuasca ceremony, healing journeys rarely move in a straight line. They ripple through the subtle planes of awareness, stirring transformation across the physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual realms. And with each ripple comes a reflection: What am I responsible for as a guide? What must the participant carry as their own?
This question of responsibility—often mistaken for blame—deserves to be felt through each vibrational layer of our being.
Personal Reflection: Standing Firm in the Storm
Over the years, I have walked beside many courageous souls on their ayahuasca journeys. I have also stood at the intersection where accountability becomes distorted into blame. One instance remains etched in my memory—a participant who accused me of serving “bad medicine,” despite having disregarded every element of the required preparation. At the time, I offered a refund, choosing empathy over truth. But in hindsight, I understand: I was honoring her pain, yes—but not the sacred boundary of my own integrity.
The ceremony does not begin at the first sip nor end with the morning light. It begins in the weeks before, in the commitment to cleanse, prepare, listen, and let go. When that contract is broken, the ceremony is compromised—not by the medicine, but by the misalignment of intention.
I’ve learned that taking responsibility means holding space for another’s transformation without absorbing their unprocessed projections. The role of the maestra is not to rescue, nor to be blamed—it is to stand as witness, as guardian, as clear channel for what wants to unfold.
In reclaiming my center, I no longer mistake compassion for concession. This, too, is part of the teaching.
Physical Realm: The Ground of Safety
Responsibility begins at the base. In the physical realm, my role is to create an environment that is secure, respectful, and nurturing to the body. The space is cleansed, the dieta honored, the participants screened and prepared. These are tangible responsibilities, measurable and visible.
But the body is not only a vessel; it is a memory keeper. Sometimes in ceremony, physical sensations arise that echo old traumas or stored grief. As a maestra, I take responsibility for safeguarding the space where that release can happen, but I do not cause those sensations. The body is intelligent. It remembers what the soul is ready to release
Emotional Realm: The Waters of Feeling
Ayahuasca opens the heart—and with it, the emotional tides. Tears, laughter, rage, confusion, joy—they may rise and fall like a great ocean swell. My responsibility here is to hold compassionate space, not to direct or suppress these waves. If deep sorrow surfaces, it is not a sign of harm. It may be the soul finally being allowed to feel what it has long buried.
There is no blame in grief. But there is responsibility in how we witness it.
Mental Realm: The Landscape of Meaning
The mind often tries to make sense of the journey, to place symbols and visions into tidy categories. But medicine doesn’t always offer linear narratives. It speaks in metaphor, memory, and archetype. Participants may experience terrifying or confusing thoughts.
Here, responsibility is more subtle: I help anchor meaning without defining it. I remind participants they are safe, even when the mind is spiraling. I do not implant beliefs or overwrite their interpretations. I trust the wisdom of integration.
Blame can arise here—“You didn’t stop me from going there”—but this misses the agency at play. The mind journeys where it is ready to go. My work is to help the traveler return with understanding.
Spiritual Realm: The Mystery Itself
In the spiritual dimension, we meet forces both luminous and shadowed. Ancestors, guides, fears, divine intelligence. The ceremony becomes a portal, and I become the guardian at the threshold. My responsibility is to maintain energetic integrity, protect the ceremonial field, and commune with the spirit of the medicine.
But even here, I am not the ultimate orchestrator. Ayahuasca is not mine to command. She is an ancient consciousness, responding to each soul’s unique path. Difficult spiritual experiences may arise not because I’ve erred, but because the participant is being shown something essential for their growth.
To take responsibility is to acknowledge my sacred duty.
To accept blame for another’s journey is to step beyond the bounds of humility.
In Closing
Responsibility in ceremony is not a burden. It is a sacred relationship—between the facilitator, the participant, the medicine, and the unseen.
Each realm teaches us something different:
The physical asks for trust.
The emotional tenderness.
The mental, spaciousness.
The spiritual, surrender.
And the question, “Was that my fault?” transforms into,
“What part of this is mine to carry with integrity and love?”
That is the heart of this work. That is the medicine, too.