Healing the Feminine Body with Ayahuasca: Navigating a UTI during a Shamanic Ceremony

What getting a urinary tract infection during a shamanic initiation taught me about my own misogyny

Hello dear one ~

If you prefer to listen to this personal essay, I’ve recorded myself reading it below:

“The body is a tool to understand the astronomy of the spirit, look through that astrolabe and become oceanic.”

- Rumi

My bladder wakes me. It’s hot in my tent. Leaves crunch beneath my boots as I walk alone in a redwood forest. I squat on the earth and watch a stream of carmel-colored urine leave my body. I am surprised by a particular, familiar feeling. First it tingles, then it burns. F*ck! I have a urinary tract infection. 

It’s the second day of my dieta¹; a ten-day shamanic healing initiation where I am imbibing the “master plant teacher,” Chiric Sanango², during and between many Ayahuasca³ ceremonies⁴. Dietas are central to Amazonian shamanic medicine apprenticeship; a prerequisite and process for becoming a capable and responsible healer. Shamanic practitioners work with master plants because, in addition to healing physical ailments, plant spirits can become allies and offer psycho-spiritual teachings when imbibed under the strict protocol of dieta. There are firm rules around foods, liquids, celibacy and solitude. I am one of twelve people signed up for this challenge. I’ve driven from San Francisco to the Santa Cruz Mountains to be off grid with minimal food and no pure water. Each day, I am rationed five mini potatoes and a jar of herbal tea. The first three days are to be spent in silent contemplation, alone in nature.  At night, we gather in my teacher’s tipi for ceremony. 

I’ve done dozens of Ayahuasca retreats and had my fair share of UTIs - but never at the same time. I panic. I came here to learn about healing. This is my training; I am studying. Like everything I do, I want to do it well. I imagined myself in a California Garden of Eden, singing icaros, magical songs inspired by the plants, while placing my healing hands on other participants. Instead, I’m sweating, hunched over by the pain in my urethra as mosquitos swarm my bare bum. 

Within the traditions of curanderismo, my teacher warns that breaking a dieta has serious consequences. The pharmaceuticals I need are not an option. My mind spirals. I ruminate over what to do next.  Do I need to break silence and tell someone? Will the pain become so unbearable I need to go to the emergency room - like the last time I had a UTI? Why do I always get UTIs? Is the timing of this UTI my bad luck or somehow an important part of my spiritual journey?

I’ve had urinary tract infections since I was a teenager. It feels like pissing knives. I’ve relied on Western Medicine - antibiotics and painkillers. You could say fifteen years of UTIs is a chronic condition but I am assured by my gynecologist there is no underlying issue. UTIs are common. Nearly all women experience them. Up until now, I have never considered a deeper layer. 

“The task for today’s woman is to heal the wounding of the feminine that exists deep within herself and the culture.” 

- Maureen Murdock, The Heroine’s Journey

I seek refuge from the mosquitos back in my tent. I try to meditate to calm my worry but I can’t focus. I have to pee again. I remember reading Women’s Bodies, Women’s Wisdom, wherein

Christiane Northrup, M.D.

explains gynecological issues as a map to the feminine unconscious. The psychosomatic symptoms of UTIs are often an inability to feel emotions fully and discharge completely. I found Dr. Northrup’s work when I was looking for a holistic approach to healing cervical dysplasia. I was struck by the inference that chronic conditions are often our bodies' attempt to tell us “we need to heal from a deeper, often unconscious wounding - the ingrained belief that we are never enough and that we are somehow tainted.” The emotional body and physical body equally contribute to disease formation. Recalling this, I have no idea what I could be so upset about - except the UTI itself.

Night has fallen. It is time for another ceremony. I make my way to the tipi. The candlelit space is quiet and cozy, a mix between a séance and a slumber party. Folks rustle with blankets and pillows; lay out crystals and essential oils. Some journal, others meditate. Wood burns in the center. Everyone wears a shade of white. I am squeamish in my space. I feel an unrelenting urge to pee. I imagine microscopic spicy ants marching down my urinary tract.

I have a choice. I can stay crippled in this worry, or I can meet myself and listen to my body. I am served bitter, viscous ayahuasca from a small clear glass. The medicine disarms me; my inner world softens. I lay on my sheepskin, close my eyes, and ask, body, what do I need to know?

I relax in my space and soon presence feelings of inferiority in my body and mind. I taste frustration and rage. They are old, deep wounds that have been buried beneath my awareness for years. Though it’s is not a vague anger; it feels personal and specific. I press my ten fingers into my bladder and breathe deeply. Tears swell my eyes as a flood of childhood memories surface. 

I see my brother: my first friend, my first rival.  

All siblings are competitive but I become aware of a resentment I carry for being the girl. On days I’m dressed in a dress, I can’t climb up the trees after him. I’m shamed for bearing panties on the jungle gym. My brother is three years older and our play mostly ends with me pinned to the ground, crying.  “I will always be better than you at everything!” he shouts at me. My kid mind wonders, is he better because he’s not a girl? 

The medicine cloaks me in her serpentine way. She whispers, stay with it. I’m reminded this is an essential part of the process. 

Healing isn’t about stopping pain. Often we have to feel worse before we feel better. I wince my eyes shut. I’m nauseous holding conflicting intensities; fury, love, and shame. I adored my brother growing up. There was no one cooler, smarter, or more interesting. His attention was my greatest pleasure. I wanted to be just like him. Even at the expense of rejecting myself.

In her book, Tomboy, Lisa Selin Davis discusses the hyper-gendering of American childhood and how the message that girls should have access to boyhood came with a disdain for whatever’s marked as feminine. When kids say, “I hate pink,” what they’re saying is, “I hate what’s associated with girls.” Girls learn the gender hierarchy and start pushing this stuff away to make them seem cooler. By 6, we’re internalizing sexism.

My disdain for girlhood is a lost memory until suddenly, a wave of embarrassment crashes into my gut. I see my five-year-old self, standing in the bathroom naked, in a fit of fury, eyes burning with tears. I yell, “get out!” My brother is mocking me. He has just found me attempting to pee standing up. He teases me that I wish I were a boy. I deny it but a seed is planted. It says, “if only you were a man, you would be great.” This seed roots in my psyche, spurring self-doubt.

A visceral wave of the medicine swoops me up. I am lifted to a bird’s eye view of the garden of me. I watch this seed sprout as I grow from girl to woman. Anger flourishes internally, burning no one but me. I learn to silently loathe my body. She grows hair in inconvenient places, gets pimples, and periods. She craves foods that make me fat and the sex that makes me bad. She gets UTIs and yeast infections. The media affirms my discontent. My thighs are too big, my breasts are too small. By sixteen my sole mission is to control her. I praise and condemn my body for how she looks and behaves.  

The medicine holds me in this awareness with the loving embrace of a grandmother. I shudder as I recognize my own self-rejection. I cry big loud heavy tears.  I feel a deep apology within myself for myself.  

Mind-body insight is followed by a physical release. I notice my crotch is wet. I’ve unknowingly, albeit painlessly, peed myself. I go back to my tent to change my clothes. I strip down and see my naked body. I notice its roundness, its curves. My belly is glowing. I am stunned by its beauty. I see her innate wisdom and power to grow life. I gaze upon my femininity with respect and adoration. 

All night, I lie awake contemplating what this insight means. My UTI has substantially subsided. I understand the untended fire of anger burns in me like the symptoms of a UTI. I must let go of any resentment towards my own womanhood. I become aware of the transpersonal aspect of my healing. Although I experience this wound flare up in memories with my brother because he was a primary identity relationship, my circumstances are not extraordinary. Through researched I’ve discovered that clinically, it is well known that treatment for chronic problems of this nature are often unsuccessful if the emotional aspects of the problem are ignored. It’s the main reason I’m inspired to support women on the path of holistic healing, as so many look in vain for the physical cure for their problems. 

In a present reality where women's freedoms are still being stripped away, this is how we can still disband the patriarchy - the structure that oppresses all genders - by looking inward and asking where we perpetuate its beliefs. This UTI was my invitation to do this deep work. It feels paradoxical, getting sick to heal. But this is the language of the body. 

The next day I learn a Traditional Chinese Medicine doctor is on the retreat. The doctor performs an energetic “surgery” on my bladder and gives me an oregano oil pill. My teacher encourages me to do whatever I can to release this anger. I walk alone in the woods and come across a tree that has survived a wild fire. New vibrant green shoots sprout from its burnt bark. Here is where I let my anger go in a guttural roar. I scream like a wild woman.  

For the first time, I resolve my UTI without antibiotics.

I call my brother as soon as the dieta ends. I want to share my insight. I want his friendship. He doesn’t pick up. We play phone tag for weeks and by the time we do get on the phone, my zeal has faded. I tell him I love him and always have. I decide to leave it at that. I realize my healing is just that, for me.

It’s been years since I had this experience. I haven’t had a UTI since.

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With so much love, 

Christina

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1. Dieta is a Spanish word that simply means “diet.” To the indigenous people of the Amazon, a dieta is an important initiation in the process of acquiring shamanic power and knowledge. The dietas originated as a plant-based practice for developing attunement to the currents of spirit that underlie the material world. Dietas are done with visionary varieties of plants known as plantas maestras or master plant teachers, dietary and behavioral regimens that allow one to move most safely and effectively into working relationships with such plants. These relationships can bring about profound transformations. As the Amazon basin is populated by a high concentration of plants whose chemical behaviors are complex and ‘active’ enough to be used medicinally, and humans have been interacting with them for 1000’s of years, the dieta tradition is well developed.

2. Chiric Sanango or Brunfelsia grandiflora is a shrub that sprouts brilliant purple and white flowers and grows abundantly throughout South America. I’d always thought of the plant as masculine as many curanderos refer to Chiric as “Grandfather” but after experiencing the plant spirit, to me, she is decidedly feminine.  In terms of medicinal properties and uses, Chiric’s leaves are frequently prescribed for flu and colds, venereal diseases, chronic pain, arthritis and rheumatism. To access the plant’s spiritual qualities, the plant is prepared by stripping the leaves and bark and often the roots and producing a tea like decoction which the dietero then sips according to the regime set out by the maestro curandero. My teacher described this master plant like this: Chiric means chill, and Sanango is to heal. It heals the “chills” in your spirit. The chills being coldness in your heart - greed, jealousy, insecurity, etc.

3. Ayahuasca is a brewed Amazonian plant mixture, served as a tea and contains N,N-dimethyltryptamine, or DMT, one of the most powerful psychedelics on the planet.  What’s more, DMT is a very simple compound that is found throughout the natural world. Even our bodies produce it. It can induce intense, life-changing visions.

4. While the mainstream western wellness community is just starting to learn about Ayahuasca,  indigenous tribes have been working with this sacred plant medicine for generations as a way of cleansing the psyche, as a tool for healing physically, mentally, and emotionally and to connect with the spirit realm.