The bravery and surrender I have witnessed in the participants of our Ayahuasca retreats for women is unlike anything else I have experienced. It is raw, beautiful, humbling, and deeply sacred. There is something powerful that happens when a group of women say “yes” to healing—when they gather with the intention of letting go, remembering who they are, and returning home to their essence.
The sisterhood that forms feels unmatched. Even before the retreat begins, the connection begins to weave itself. From the very first messages in the group chat—originally created to share logistical information—something special unfolds. Women begin organizing rides together, sharing travel tips, offering to meet at transportation hubs or split a taxi from other locations.
The commitment to the call is so evident. Some women travel from across the country, enduring 12+ hour journeys by bus to arrive. And they do not come empty-handed. They come carrying flowers, herbs, incense, grains—gifts for the fire, for the earth, for spirit. They arrive prepared not only with bags, but with intention and prayer.
When a woman is truly ready to change—to surrender what no longer serves her—it is unmistakable. Her energy shifts the space. And when a circle of women arrives with that kind of readiness, it is electric. It feels ancient. It feels alive. You can feel it in your bones.
Every Ayahuasca retreat for women reminds me that while each of our stories is unique, the emotions that bind us are deeply shared. Fear, grief, shame, heartbreak—these are not personal flaws, but human experiences. Time and time again I hear women express the same desires: to understand their purpose, to feel whole again, to experience safety in their relationships, to cultivate self-love, to awaken their intuition, and to live a life that feels true.
There is great healing in simply realizing that we are not alone.
Each woman carries her own story, but the themes echo across cultures and backgrounds. Whether it’s recovering from a toxic relationship, the loss of a loved one, burnout, or navigating a life transition—these women are united by their courage to show up, feel deeply, and say yes to healing. They are brave. And their bravery is contagious.
And what I’ve come to realize, again and again, is that the wounds held within the feminine are not separate from the wounds of the earth. The neglect, the exploitation, the lack of reverence—they mirror each other.
Our Mother Earth gives endlessly, asking for so little in return. And yet we take from her without gratitude. We extract, we pollute, we forget. In so many ways, this reflects how women have been treated across generations—overlooked, undervalued, and expected to give without rest.
But this imbalance is not permanent. It is not destiny. It is a distortion that can be healed.
The first step in reversing this disconnection is for women to remember their sacredness. To return to the truth of who they are: divine, powerful, creative, and whole. Our Ayahuasca retreats for women are not just ceremonies—they are catalysts for this remembering. They are spaces where women reclaim their voice, their body, their intuition, their joy, and their ability to create from a place of deep alignment.
And when a woman heals, it doesn’t stop with her.
When one woman heals, she becomes a bridge—mending the wounds of generations past and lighting the path for those yet to come. Her transformation echoes across her lineage, forwards and backwards in time. Her daughters, her mother, her ancestors—all feel the ripple. Her healing becomes a gift to the world.
In this way, healing is not just personal. It is ancestral. It is planetary. It’s a prayer answered through presence.
This is why we gather.
This is why we sit in circle.
This is why we sing, and cry, and breathe together under the stars—held by the mountains, the fire, the water, the wind, and each other.
Our Ayahuasca retreats for women are not about becoming someone new. They are about shedding the layers that were never truly ours. About releasing the conditioning, the pain, the fear—and remembering who we were before the world told us to be small.
And in that remembering, we rise. Together.