PODCAST EPISODES

Music has always played a powerful role in human culture, but within ceremonial spaces it can take on an entirely different meaning. In this deeply reflective conversation, medicine musician Ayla Schafer shares how her journey through personal crisis, travel, and plant medicine transformed her relationship with music — turning songs into a form of prayer, healing, and spiritual connection.

Rather than seeing herself simply as a performer, Ayla describes music as a bridge between the heart and the unseen realms, a language that carries emotion, intention, and presence into ceremony.

A Musical Beginning and a Spiritual Crisis

Ayla’s relationship with music began early in life. Growing up surrounded by creative expression, she naturally gravitated toward singing and songwriting. A guitar gifted to her as a teenager became a tool for emotional exploration, allowing her to express feelings that words alone could not hold.

Yet as she entered adulthood, something shifted. Performing in conventional music environments left her feeling disconnected from the deeper purpose she sensed within her art. During a period she describes as a “dark night of the soul,” she chose to leave behind familiar identities and travel to South America on what became a two-year spiritual quest.

Interestingly, part of that journey involved stepping away from music altogether. She intentionally released the identity of being a singer, entering a space of uncertainty where old definitions could dissolve. Only later would she realize that this surrender was preparing her for a new relationship with sound.

Discovering Ceremony and Medicine Songs

While traveling through Mexico and Peru, Ayla encountered ceremonial spaces where music was not entertainment but an integral part of healing. Sitting with communities that sang songs of prayer, gratitude, and connection to the earth opened a new understanding of what music could be.

These experiences gradually led her into deeper work with plant medicine. Within ceremonies, she began singing again — not as a performance, but as an offering. She describes moments when holding a guitar felt like coming back into alignment with her spirit, even during intense personal challenges.

Unlike singing on a stage, ceremonial music felt intimate and purposeful. The energy of the room, the presence of participants, and the shared intention transformed sound into something alive and responsive.

Singing from the Heart Rather Than the Mind

One of Ayla’s most powerful insights is that medicine music is less about technical skill and more about authenticity. Early in her journey, she did not approach songs with a clear intention to guide others. Instead, she sang from a place of vulnerability — allowing grief, love, and raw emotion to flow through her voice.

Over time, she began to see music as a form of energetic communication. When she sings, she describes it as radiating love from the heart — a love that includes joy but also sorrow, healing, and truth. According to her perspective, listeners are not simply hearing melodies; they are feeling the emotional honesty behind them.

This heart-centered approach changes the role of the musician. Rather than directing the ceremony, the singer becomes a channel through which collective emotions can move and transform.

The Mystery of Creative Inspiration

When asked about how songs are born, Ayla speaks of creativity as something mysterious and intuitive. Ideas do not always arrive through conscious planning. Instead, melodies and words often emerge as impulses — feelings that seek expression.

Her first distinctly ceremonial songs came during a period when she allowed herself to sing without cultural filters or expectations. Writing from a place of prayer rather than performance marked a clear turning point in her artistic evolution.

Plant medicine, she explains, did not simply inspire new lyrics. It deepened her relationship with herself and with the world around her. Through intense emotional journeys and spiritual experiences, she gained access to layers of feeling that naturally shaped the music she created.

Language, Ancestry, and Spiritual Expression

Another fascinating aspect of her work is the use of multiple languages in her songs. Some pieces emerge in English, others in Spanish, and more recently she has explored ancient Celtic sounds. Rather than choosing languages intellectually, she follows what feels resonant in the moment.

This connection to ancestral expression reflects a broader theme in her life — rediscovering spiritual traditions that were lost or fragmented over time. She speaks about feeling called to reconnect with the land and the deeper memory held within nature itself.

For her, music becomes a way to restore that connection. Singing in different languages is not about translation but about embodying a particular energy or prayer.

Music as Healing for the Planet

Beyond personal transformation, Ayla views ceremony music as part of a larger healing process for humanity and the earth. She believes that many of today’s global challenges stem from disconnection — from nature, from community, and from the heart.

Through music, she hopes to remind people of their relationship with the living world. Songs become invitations to listen more deeply, to slow down, and to reconnect with the sacredness of life.

This perspective shifts the role of art from individual expression to collective service. Rather than striving for fame or recognition, she sees her music as an offering to something larger than herself.

The Power of Prayer Through Sound

Ultimately, Ayla’s journey reveals that ceremony music is not defined by genre or style but by intention. Singing becomes a form of prayer — a way to communicate with the earth, with ancestors, and with the unseen aspects of existence.

Her story shows that transformation often begins with letting go of old identities. By stepping away from music for a time, she discovered a deeper calling that reshaped her relationship with creativity.

In ceremonial spaces, songs are no longer just songs. They become pathways — guiding participants through emotional landscapes, opening the heart, and creating moments of connection that words alone cannot capture.

And perhaps the most powerful lesson from her journey is this: when music is rooted in authenticity and reverence, it becomes more than sound. It becomes a living bridge between the human spirit and the greater mystery of life itself.

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Based on the Ayahuasca Podcast episode “Ceremony music and Ayahuasca” with Sam Believ and Ayla Schafer.

Cannabis is often viewed through extremes — either as a harmful substance or as a miracle cure. In a thoughtful and deeply personal conversation, educator and coach Ryan Sprague shares a more nuanced perspective: cannabis is neither inherently good nor bad, but a powerful tool that reflects the intention behind its use. Through his own journey with anxiety, loss, and personal transformation, he explores how people can shift from unconscious dependency toward a conscious, respectful relationship with the plant.

A Teenager Searching for Relief

Ryan’s relationship with cannabis began during adolescence, at a time when he was struggling with anxiety and feeling disconnected from himself. After receiving medical diagnoses and prescriptions that left him feeling numb rather than healed, he turned to cannabis for the first time. Instead of simply masking symptoms, the experience helped him feel more present and aware — as though he could observe his thoughts rather than be overwhelmed by them.

This early insight shaped his curiosity about the mind and led him to study psychology. Yet like many young people discovering a tool that brings relief, he gradually began using cannabis more frequently, believing that more consumption meant more healing. Over time, the plant shifted from being a guide toward self-awareness to becoming a nightly habit that dulled deeper emotional challenges.

The Difference Between Medicine and Dependency

One of Ryan’s central messages is that dependency often arises not from the substance itself but from the relationship a person builds with it. He describes a phase in his life where cannabis helped him avoid discomfort instead of confronting it. Even though he considered himself a mindful user — consuming organic, homegrown cannabis and limiting use to evenings — he eventually realized that he was numbing unresolved emotions.

This realization came during a period of personal awakening, when he chose to take a three-month break after years of consistent use. The first weeks felt difficult, reinforcing his belief that cannabis was the problem. But as time passed, he recognized that the deeper issue was not the plant but his own patterns — avoidance, unprocessed trauma, and a lack of intentionality.

Breaking dependency, in his view, requires radical honesty. Instead of blaming the substance, he began asking what emotional needs he was trying to escape.

Loss, Grief, and the Spiritual Side of Cannabis

A profound turning point in Ryan’s journey came during his father’s illness. After being diagnosed with terminal cancer, his father reluctantly agreed to explore cannabis-based support. Through this experience, Ryan witnessed a different dimension of the plant — one that extended beyond symptom relief.

He describes moments where cannabis seemed to open emotional and spiritual space, allowing his father to approach mortality with acceptance and peace. Conversations became deeper, and unresolved relationships found closure. For Ryan, this period transformed his understanding of cannabis from a coping mechanism into a tool for presence, connection, and compassion.

This experience also shifted his life direction. Rather than focusing solely on cultivation or industry work, he felt called to help others understand the deeper potential of conscious plant use.

Conscious Use as a Practice

After his break from cannabis, Ryan began experimenting with intentional consumption. Instead of using it daily, he created structured rituals around weekend sessions, setting clear intentions before engaging with the plant. These experiences became less about escaping stress and more about self-reflection — journaling, meditation, and emotional processing.

He noticed that when used consciously, cannabis amplified awareness rather than dulling it. Difficult emotions surfaced more clearly, giving him an opportunity to address patterns he had previously avoided. This approach transformed the plant into a mirror, reflecting both his strengths and the areas that required growth.

He emphasizes that conscious use is not about rigid rules but about listening to internal signals. Some people may choose to abstain entirely, while others may find balance through intentional rituals. The key lies in awareness rather than automatic consumption.

Seeing Cannabis as a Teacher

Throughout the conversation, Ryan describes cannabis as having a playful, almost archetypal energy — one that encourages curiosity, laughter, and perspective. Instead of pushing users into deep transcendence, he believes cannabis helps integrate spiritual insight into everyday life. It allows individuals to remain grounded in the present while exploring new ways of seeing themselves and the world.

This perspective challenges the cultural narrative that cannabis is either purely recreational or purely medicinal. For Ryan, it exists somewhere in between — a bridge that can reveal inner truth when approached with respect.

Moving Beyond Stigma and Extremes

Another important theme is the need to move beyond polarized thinking. Ryan acknowledges that cannabis can be harmful when used unconsciously, especially for individuals seeking escape from unresolved trauma. At the same time, he believes that dismissing the plant entirely overlooks its potential as a tool for growth.

He encourages people to examine their motivations honestly. Are they using cannabis to feel more alive and connected, or to avoid discomfort? The answer often determines whether the relationship becomes supportive or dependent.

A Journey of Self-Responsibility

Ultimately, Ryan’s story is less about cannabis itself and more about personal accountability. Healing, he explains, does not come from any external substance alone. It emerges from the willingness to explore one’s inner world, to face uncomfortable truths, and to cultivate intention in daily life.

His journey from anxious teenager to conscious educator reflects a broader lesson: tools like cannabis can illuminate the path, but the responsibility for transformation always rests with the individual. By shifting from unconscious habit to intentional practice, he discovered a new way of relating not only to the plant but to himself.

In the end, breaking dependency is not about rejection — it is about reclaiming choice. Through awareness, patience, and honest reflection, the relationship with cannabis can evolve from a crutch into a conscious partnership that supports growth, healing, and deeper connection.

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Based on the Ayahuasca Podcast episode “Breaking dependency and conscious use of Cannabis” with Sam Believ and Ryan Sprague.

Building an Ayahuasca Retreat in Colombia: Sam Believ on Calling, Chaos, and Healing

Running an ayahuasca retreat center is often imagined as peaceful, spiritual work — ceremonies in nature, deep conversations, and transformative healing. But behind every ceremony lies a complex operation that resembles far more than a spiritual project. In this candid conversation, Sam Believ, founder of LaWayra Ayahuasca Retreat Center in Colombia, shares how retreat work combines logistics, family life, business pressure, and a deep sense of calling into one constantly evolving path.

A Retreat Center Is More Than Ceremony

For Sam, running a retreat is not just about serving medicine. It means managing a hotel, a restaurant, transportation systems, psychological support, marketing, construction, and even farming — all at once. He describes overseeing a team of more than twenty people, sometimes thirty when construction workers are included, while also maintaining a large physical property in the Colombian countryside.

Unexpected challenges are part of daily life. At one point, a powerful natural event caused rocks to roll down a nearby river, damaging vegetation and forcing immediate repairs. These moments remind him that retreat work is deeply rooted in physical reality, not only spiritual ideals.

The people attending ceremonies often see only the peaceful final result, while the hidden effort behind the scenes remains invisible. According to Sam, that invisibility is a sign that the system is working well — but it also means most people underestimate how demanding this kind of work truly is.

Starting Without a Business Plan

LaWayra did not begin as a carefully designed retreat business. It began through a sequence of coincidences during a difficult personal period. At the time, Sam was living in a countryside property and renting rooms when someone approached him about using the space for an ayahuasca ceremony.

What initially seemed like a simple rental arrangement gradually became something much bigger. Instead of merely renting the space, Sam found himself organizing logistics while another person provided the medicine. That unexpected shift gave him responsibility — and eventually direction.

Together with his wife, he slowly built the retreat through constant work and adaptation. The first year involved only occasional ceremonies, perhaps one week each month. Over time, demand grew until retreats expanded into most of the month, leaving little time for rest between programs.

Leaving Financial Success Behind

Before Colombia, Sam lived a very different life. He worked offshore in oil and gas, earning extremely well and achieving many conventional markers of success: stable income, property, career progression, and relationships. Yet internally, he felt deeply unhappy.

This contradiction forced him to question what success actually meant. If he had everything society said should create happiness, why did life still feel empty?

Eventually he took a sabbatical and traveled to South America, planning a long journey across several countries. But Colombia stood out immediately. Even after visiting neighboring countries, he found himself drawn back to Medellín, feeling increasingly certain that this place held something important for him.

Over time, what began as temporary travel became permanent relocation. He settled, built a family, and slowly rooted himself in a new life far removed from the one he had originally imagined.

First Encounters with Ayahuasca

His first ayahuasca experience came during a period of emotional vulnerability after a miscarriage in his family. He attended a large Colombian ceremony with minimal preparation, unsure of what to expect and still viewing ayahuasca largely through a skeptical lens.

The experience was immediately powerful and deeply visual. At first, he saw it as an unusual one-time event — something meaningful but not life-changing.

Only later did he notice how much had shifted afterward. His confidence increased, self-doubt softened, and long-standing goals suddenly felt achievable. Looking back, he realized that the ceremony had quietly changed the way he related to himself and his future.

The Jungle and a New Direction

As he continued drinking medicine, especially during a period of depression and uncertainty, a strong internal urge emerged: he felt called to go deeper into the jungle.

That call led to another sequence of synchronicities, eventually placing him in ceremonies with indigenous healers in Colombia. During one especially profound experience, he describes receiving what felt like unmistakable direction: if he did not work with medicine, he would never feel fulfilled.

This was deeply unexpected. At that time, he still identified primarily as an engineer — practical, skeptical, non-spiritual. Yet the experience left such a strong imprint that he could not ignore it.

Soon after, retreat work began to take shape in earnest.

Why Participants Are Called Patients

One distinctive aspect of Sam’s retreat philosophy is language. Participants are referred to as patients, not guests.

For him, this reflects a core principle: ayahuasca is approached as medicine, not entertainment. He emphasizes that many people arrive expecting visions or extraordinary experiences, but the deeper work often begins elsewhere — in patience, emotional release, discomfort, and gradual healing.

Not everyone connects strongly in the first ceremony. Some need several nights before deeper layers begin to open. By calling people patients, he reminds them that healing takes time and cannot be rushed.

The retreat’s guiding philosophy is built around three stages: connect, heal, grow.

First comes connection — with the medicine, with oneself, with the group, with nature. Then healing, which often includes purging, confronting emotions, and facing internal resistance. Only afterward does growth become possible.

Colombia’s Potential Beyond Old Narratives

Sam also speaks passionately about Colombia’s broader role in psychedelic healing. He believes the country has a unique opportunity to shift its global identity — from being associated with cocaine to becoming known for authentic healing traditions rooted in plants like ayahuasca, coca, and tobacco.

For him, this is not just tourism. It is cultural restoration.

He often reflects on how sacred plants become distorted when stripped from tradition and reduced to commercial products. His hope is that Colombia can grow more carefully, preserving indigenous respect while offering healing to people who genuinely need it.

A Life Built Through Constant Adjustment

Even now, after years of retreat work, Sam describes himself as constantly rethinking direction. Every year brings new questions, new pressures, and new lessons.

The retreat is growing, his family is growing, responsibilities are growing — yet so is the sense that this path, despite its chaos, is exactly where he is meant to be.

For him, retreat life is not glamorous. It is unpredictable, exhausting, meaningful, and deeply human.

And perhaps that is why it continues to work: because behind the ceremonies and philosophy stands a life built not on perfection, but on continual adaptation, patience, and trust in where the next step may lead.

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Listen to the whole podcast episode here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3aoNYSLcTqI

For many people, ayahuasca begins as curiosity. A story from a friend, a documentary, a passing mention that lingers longer than expected. For Sam Believ, founder of LaWayra Ayahuasca Retreat in Colombia, that curiosity arrived gradually — not as one dramatic invitation, but as a slow series of encounters that eventually became impossible to ignore. What started as scattered conversations about a mysterious plant medicine eventually transformed into a complete change of direction, shaping not only his own healing journey but also the lives of thousands of people who later came through his retreat.

The Slow Arrival of a Calling

Sam first heard about ayahuasca through a friend working with indigenous communities in Ecuador. At the time, the stories sounded fascinating but distant — another unusual piece of information filed somewhere in the background of life.

Yet the subject kept returning. More people mentioned it. More stories appeared. The idea seemed to follow him, gradually moving from curiosity to something more persistent.

This slow repetition is something he now recognizes in many others. Ayahuasca often enters a person’s life indirectly, through small moments that accumulate until the timing finally feels right.

His first ceremony happened not in Peru, as many assume, but in Colombia — a country he later came to understand has one of the deepest ayahuasca traditions in the region, despite being overlooked by much of global psychedelic tourism.

Colombia’s Hidden Tradition

One of the misconceptions Sam often addresses is the belief that ayahuasca belongs mainly to Peru or Costa Rica. In reality, Colombia holds a deeply rooted medicinal tradition, often under the name yage rather than ayahuasca.

That linguistic difference alone has caused many outsiders to overlook the country’s role in plant medicine.

He explains that while recipes differ slightly depending on region and tradition, the essence remains the same: a sacred medicinal preparation used for healing, insight, and spiritual development.

This realization later influenced his branding. One reason his project originally carried the name Ayahuasca in Colombia was simply because he wanted people to know the medicine existed there at all.

Depression, Directionlessness, and the Need for Help

When ayahuasca entered his life more seriously, Sam was going through a difficult mental period. Depression had settled in quietly but deeply. He felt directionless, disconnected, and uncertain about what to do next with his life.

He did not arrive at medicine with a fully conscious healing plan. At first, curiosity remained the surface reason. But underneath, he now sees that he was looking for help long before he admitted it to himself.

Without formal therapy or traditional psychological support, ayahuasca became one of the first tools that genuinely shifted his internal landscape.

The medicine did not simply remove pain. It created enough space for clarity to appear.

Healing Before Understanding

What struck him most was that the process did not unfold in a linear or logical way. Unlike conventional decision-making, where one sees a clear goal and moves toward it, ayahuasca revealed direction indirectly.

First came emotional relief. Then came subtle internal changes. Then, later, understanding.

He describes how one of the strongest effects was not a dramatic mystical revelation, but a quiet removal of self-doubt. Suddenly, goals that had once felt unreachable began to seem possible.

The healing itself came before he fully understood what had happened.

Why the Retreat Was Never a Business Plan

LaWayra did not begin because Sam decided to start a retreat company. In fact, he often emphasizes that from a business perspective, ayahuasca retreats are among the most difficult operations one can choose.

The project emerged almost accidentally.

He was living in a rural property in Colombia when someone suggested using the space for ceremonies. At first, the idea was simple: rent the property.

But circumstances quickly shifted, and he found himself handling logistics — organizing mattresses, buckets, firewood, ceremony materials, and participant coordination.

Then the original arrangement fell apart, forcing him to find another healer and continue independently.

Without fully deciding it, he had already stepped into retreat work.

The Complexity Behind the Spiritual Image

What many people imagine as a peaceful spiritual project quickly revealed itself as something far more complex.

Running a retreat means running multiple businesses simultaneously: accommodation, food service, transport, ceremony coordination, emotional support, maintenance, staffing, and land management.

At LaWayra, that complexity expanded further because the retreat became integrated into family life itself.

The property where ceremonies happen is also where Sam lives with his wife and children.

Family Life Inside a Retreat Center

Today, family and retreat life exist side by side.

Participants arrive from around the world while children run through the same property, growing up surrounded by people from different cultures, languages, and emotional backgrounds.

This has created unusual effects. His children, for example, often assume everyone is a friend because so many people constantly pass through their home in kindness and openness.

The retreat environment has shaped them into naturally social and trusting beings, though not always in ways ordinary restaurants or public spaces understand.

Ayahuasca as Information

One of Sam’s most repeated observations is that ayahuasca gives information.

That information may arrive through visuals, sensations, emotional waves, memories, body pain, symbolic messages, or direct internal knowing.

But what matters is not the form — it is what the person does afterward.

He often reminds participants that visions are not the main point. Beautiful imagery can happen, but deeper transformation usually comes through quieter insights that later influence real life.

Why Integration Matters More Than Ceremony Alone

At LaWayra, integration is treated as essential, not optional.

Sam even developed a dedicated integration journal for participants because he noticed that without writing and reflection, many powerful experiences fade too quickly.

The medicine may temporarily remove pain or reveal truth, but unless those truths become daily action, old patterns often return.

Integration means turning short-term insight into long-term structure.

Sometimes that means journaling. Sometimes it means changing relationships, career direction, habits, or self-perception.

A Larger Philosophy of Healing

Over years of watching thousands of ceremonies, Sam has also noticed recurring spiritual themes reported by participants.

Without being told what to believe, many independently describe similar impressions: that life has purpose, that souls come here to learn, and that human experience may be part of something far larger than ordinary perception suggests.

Yet despite these spiritual dimensions, his own work remains grounded in practical healing first.

At LaWayra, the emphasis remains simple:

help people with depression, anxiety, trauma, directionlessness, and emotional pain.

The spiritual questions may come later — but only after life itself begins to feel livable again.

Building Something That Continues to Evolve

What emerges through his story is not a finished philosophy, but an ongoing process.

The retreat continues growing. The family continues growing. The responsibilities continue expanding.

But beneath all of it remains the same principle that first brought him there:

sometimes healing begins before we understand why we are being led somewhere.

And sometimes, only years later, the pieces finally reveal the shape they were always forming.

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Listen to the whole podcast episode here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3aoNYSLcTqI

In just a few years, what began as a small ayahuasca retreat in the Colombian countryside has developed into one of the most recognized affordable retreat projects in the region. For Sam Believ, founder of LaWayra, the journey has not simply been about expansion, but about proving that plant medicine can remain accessible, grounded, and deeply human even while growing internationally. The latest chapter of that story shows how quickly things can evolve when healing, purpose, and persistence meet at the right moment.

From Early Retreats to a Permanent Home

When Sam first began organizing ceremonies, the model was simple: small groups, a rented property, and a clear focus on providing a safe and serious ayahuasca experience in Colombia.

At the time, larger ambitions were already forming. There had been plans to acquire a much larger piece of land in another part of Antioquia — something expansive, remote, and dramatic, even including a waterfall. But reality eventually pointed toward a different decision.

Instead of chasing a huge undeveloped property, Sam bought the very retreat center where ceremonies had already been taking place.

The land itself may have been smaller than the original dream, but it offered something more valuable: continuity. Guests already felt connected to the place, and over time that emotional bond became part of the retreat’s identity.

What had once been temporary became permanent.

Why Staying in One Place Changed Everything

Remaining in the same location created trust.

As participants began leaving reviews, that trust became visible publicly. The retreat accumulated hundreds of five-star ratings, which gave future guests confidence long before arriving.

This also allowed the project to grow steadily rather than restart from zero in a new location.

Instead of beginning again elsewhere, improvements could happen directly where people already knew healing was happening.

Cabins were added. Infrastructure improved. New facilities appeared one piece at a time.

What had once felt like a modest retreat gradually became a complete healing environment.

Growth by the Numbers

The growth itself has been substantial.

What began as one retreat week per month expanded to three retreats per month, covering nearly two and a half weeks continuously.

The average group size settled around twenty participants, a number that Sam now considers ideal.

Too few people reduces the group dynamic. Too many weakens intimacy.

At around twenty, something unique happens: people begin mirroring each other’s stories.

Participants often discover that someone else in the room is carrying pain remarkably similar to their own. That shared recognition creates a kind of emotional acceleration that individual healing alone cannot always produce.

Over time, more than one thousand people have passed through LaWayra’s ceremonies.

Why the Group Matters as Much as the Medicine

Ayahuasca often receives attention for its individual visions, but Sam repeatedly emphasizes the importance of the group itself.

After ceremonies, participants gather in sharing circles where insights are spoken aloud.

This is where many breakthroughs happen.

Someone describes childhood abandonment. Another recognizes the same emotional pattern in their own life. Someone speaks about addiction, and another suddenly sees their own behavior more clearly.

The medicine opens something internally, but the group often helps interpret it.

That collective reflection has become one of the retreat’s strongest tools.

Why the Name Changed to LaWayra

Originally, the project operated under a very descriptive identity: Ayahuasca in Colombia.

That name worked well online because it clearly matched what people were searching for. It also performed strongly in search engines, which remains important today.

But over time, it became too broad.

Guests would say they had done ayahuasca in Colombia, but there was no clear retreat identity attached to that experience.

The new name, LaWayra, introduced something more specific and symbolic.

The word refers to a cleansing instrument used by shamans during ceremony and also carries associations with air and wind within indigenous linguistic traditions.

The shift marked a movement from descriptive branding into a deeper identity.

Healing Addiction by Treating the Pain Beneath It

One of the most striking stories emerging from recent retreat experiences involves people overcoming long-term addiction.

Sam often returns to a principle strongly associated with trauma work:

do not focus only on the substance — focus on the pain beneath it.

In many cases, addiction is not the root problem but the strategy someone developed to survive emotional suffering.

Cannabis, alcohol, compulsive habits, even work itself can become forms of escape.

At LaWayra, people frequently discover that once the original pain becomes visible, the addictive pull weakens naturally.

Not because they force discipline, but because the internal pressure behind the habit begins dissolving.

Why Childhood Still Shapes Adult Suffering

A recurring theme among participants is the rediscovery of forgotten childhood experiences.

Not dramatic events in every case — sometimes small moments that were emotionally overwhelming at a young age and then buried deeply.

Sam openly shares that some of his own strongest emotional patterns were linked to very early separation from his parents, when he was sent away as a small child for an extended period.

At the time, he did not consciously label it trauma.

Only later did ayahuasca reveal how strongly that early feeling of abandonment had shaped adult emotional responses.

This kind of delayed understanding is common.

Many people arrive knowing they feel pain but not knowing why.

Why Trauma Is Often Hidden Until It Becomes Visible

Trauma rarely stays as a clear memory.

Instead, it becomes emotional structure.

It influences reactions, relationships, anxiety, trust, and even identity without always announcing itself directly.

During ceremony, buried material often appears not as narrative but as sensation, memory fragments, body emotion, or symbolic insight.

What matters is that the person finally feels where something began.

Once that happens, healing becomes more practical.

A painful memory may remain, but it loses emotional dominance.

Building Beyond Ayahuasca Alone

The retreat is now expanding beyond ceremony itself.

The longer-term plan is to create a place where people stay not only for ayahuasca, but for healthy living more broadly.

A dedicated medicine house is planned.

Additional cabins are under development.

A sauna, expanded workspaces, healthy food areas, and longer-stay facilities are part of the next phase.

The idea is simple:

come for healing, but stay for lifestyle.

Because many participants no longer want to leave immediately after ceremony.

The community itself becomes part of the medicine.

A Different Kind of Retreat Model

What makes LaWayra unusual is that it has remained intentionally affordable despite growth.

In a field where many retreats have become expensive luxury experiences, Sam has consistently tried to keep pricing reachable while still improving infrastructure.

That balance is difficult.

Retreat work requires staff, food, transport, facilities, facilitators, and land maintenance.

Yet keeping entry accessible remains central to the philosophy.

A Project Still Expanding

Perhaps the strongest message in this stage of the story is that the retreat is no longer an experiment.

It has become a living project with real momentum, real responsibility, and clear direction.

What began with one rented space now supports a growing team, international visitors, and a larger long-term vision.

And beneath all of that remains the same original idea:

that healing should feel real, practical, and available to ordinary people — not reserved only for those already inside spiritual culture.

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Listen to the whole podcast episode here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KhLasE4jQeM

For many people, ayahuasca first appears as an unfamiliar word attached to mystery, fear, or curiosity. Some hear about it through podcasts, others through social media, and many initially place it in the same category as recreational psychedelics without understanding how different the actual experience can be. For Sam Believ, founder of LaWayra Ayahuasca Retreat in Colombia, that misunderstanding is something he has spent years helping people move beyond. His own path into plant medicine did not begin from spirituality, but from a much more human place: exhaustion, emotional heaviness, and the feeling of having lost direction.

From Offshore Work to Inner Crisis

Before Colombia, before retreats, and before ayahuasca became central to his life, Sam worked in offshore oil and gas after years spent on ships.

From the outside, it was a conventional adult path — stable work, structure, income.

Internally, however, it never felt aligned.

After roughly a decade in that world, he stepped away and began traveling. Colombia became one of those destinations that unexpectedly turned into something much bigger. What began as travel eventually became home, especially after meeting his future wife and moving into the countryside during the pandemic.

It was there that the deeper transformation began.

Curiosity First, Healing Later

Sam often explains that ayahuasca entered his life through a combination of curiosity and desperation.

At first, curiosity dominated. It felt like something unusual worth exploring.

Only later did he realize he had actually been searching for help.

Depression had become part of daily life. There was no clear direction, no deep sense of purpose, and mentally he knew something was not functioning well.

Ayahuasca did not instantly solve life, but it created the first real interruption in that downward emotional pattern.

For the first time, he experienced relief that felt deeper than temporary distraction.

Why Ayahuasca Is Different from Temporary Escape

One of the strongest distinctions Sam makes is between ayahuasca and ordinary forms of numbing.

Alcohol can temporarily remove pain. So can cannabis, compulsive habits, even certain medications.

But temporary relief often leaves the original cause untouched.

The next day, the same emotional structure remains.

Ayahuasca works differently because while it may reduce emotional heaviness during the process, it also tends to reveal something beneath it.

Not just comfort — information.

That information may arrive as imagery, memories, body sensations, realizations, or unexpected emotional clarity.

The difference is that the person leaves not only feeling lighter, but often understanding more clearly why the pain existed in the first place.

A Medicine That Reveals Instead of Covers

This is why Sam consistently refers to ayahuasca as medicine rather than simply a psychedelic substance.

For thousands of years, indigenous communities used it in healing contexts long before modern governments labeled it a drug.

He acknowledges that language around psychedelics remains politically loaded, but from direct experience, the difference becomes obvious.

The ceremony is not built around escape.

It is built around confrontation, insight, and internal work.

And unlike casual substances, the process itself is often physically demanding rather than pleasurable.

Why Purging Matters So Much

For many first-time participants, the biggest fear is physical purging.

People worry about vomiting, discomfort, or losing control.

Yet once inside ceremony, many discover that purging becomes one of the most meaningful moments of relief.

In traditional understanding, purging is not simply a side effect — it is part of the healing.

People often describe emotional release arriving simultaneously with physical release.

A difficult memory may rise, followed by vomiting, followed by immediate lightness.

The body seems to participate directly in the emotional process.

This is why experienced participants often stop fearing purging and begin understanding it as progress.

Why Every Retreat Needs Structure

A major point Sam emphasizes is that ayahuasca should never be approached casually.

The medicine itself can be safe, but only when preparation, facilitation, and setting are taken seriously.

At LaWayra, retreats are designed as full one-week containers rather than isolated ceremonies.

Participants arrive in Medellín, are transported to the retreat center, and spend the first day settling in, building trust, and learning what to expect.

The early hours are intentionally slow because trust itself affects the experience.

Without psychological safety, deeper surrender becomes harder.

How the Week Unfolds

The retreat then moves through multiple ceremony nights.

Each ceremony begins with breathing work and meditation before the medicine is served.

Three rounds of ayahuasca may be available during the night, though not everyone needs the same amount.

Ceremonies often continue until after midnight, followed by sleep and then sharing circles the next morning.

Three night ceremonies are followed by a rest day, bodywork, reflection, and then a final daytime ceremony.

That final day ceremony is intentionally different.

Instead of darkness and inward focus, participants experience medicine in daylight, surrounded by landscape and nature.

It often becomes one of the most emotionally open parts of the retreat.

Why Sharing Circles Are Essential

The sharing circles — often called word circles — are one of the most important parts of the week.

This is where private experiences become understandable.

A person describes what they saw, felt, feared, or realized.

Others recognize pieces of themselves in those stories.

Often two or three people in a group are carrying nearly identical emotional patterns without knowing it until they speak.

This mirroring creates a second layer of healing beyond the medicine itself.

Participants often leave saying they learned as much from listening as from their own ceremony.

Music as a Guide Through Difficult States

Another defining element is music.

For many participants, the live music during ceremony becomes inseparable from the experience itself.

The shaman is not simply performing songs.

He is guiding the emotional direction of the room.

During difficult moments — ego loss, fear, confusion, emotional intensity — the music becomes orientation.

Even when someone forgets who they are for a period, the music often remains the thread that reminds them they are held inside something structured and safe.

For many people, hearing that music later can reactivate ceremony memories months afterward.

Why Clarity Often Appears After Healing Begins

Ayahuasca is not only sought for healing pain.

Many people arrive because they feel lost rather than deeply wounded.

No direction. No real goal. No strong internal signal.

Sam openly connects this to his own life.

After his first ceremonies, he noticed something subtle but powerful: for the first time, he began believing that larger goals might actually be possible.

What followed over the next years — family, retreat building, land, growth — all began with that shift in self-belief.

Not because ayahuasca gave a perfect plan, but because it removed enough internal heaviness for action to begin.

Choosing the Right Retreat Matters

Perhaps the strongest practical advice he gives is simple:

never choose casually.

The quality of facilitation matters enormously.

The right retreat must have real indigenous connection, experienced ceremony leadership, strong preparation guidance, integration support, and a trustworthy environment.

Because when done correctly, ayahuasca can be one of the most meaningful experiences a person ever has.

When done poorly, the same medicine can become chaotic or unsafe.

A Tool, Not a Shortcut

What emerges most clearly through Sam’s perspective is that ayahuasca is not magic in the simplistic sense.

It is not an instant answer.

It is a catalyst.

It can interrupt pain, reveal patterns, restore perspective, and make change feel possible.

But the life built afterward still depends on what the person chooses to do next.

And that, perhaps, is why so many people return — not because one ceremony solves everything, but because one ceremony often shows that something deeper is possible.

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Listen to the whole podcast episode here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lXu82BuObsU

For years, most international conversations about ayahuasca focused almost entirely on Peru. Retreat seekers, documentaries, and online discussions often treated Peru as the obvious destination, while Colombia remained largely absent from the global conversation. Yet according to Sam Believ, founder of LaWayra Ayahuasca Retreat, Colombia has always held a deep and legitimate ayahuasca tradition — one that was simply overshadowed by history, politics, and perception.

In his view, Colombia is not a newcomer to plant medicine. It is one of the original homes of it.

Why Colombia Was Overlooked for So Long

The absence of Colombia from mainstream ayahuasca tourism had little to do with tradition and much more to do with reputation.

For decades, international perception of Colombia was dominated by conflict, narcotics, and instability. Even people who had never visited associated the country almost entirely with danger.

That shaped where spiritual tourism developed.

While Peru became widely accepted as a destination for plant medicine, Colombia remained outside that wave despite having strong indigenous use of ayahuasca across Amazonian regions.

According to Sam, this created a kind of historical imbalance: one country became globally identified with healing traditions while another carrying equally old traditions stayed hidden.

Ayahuasca’s Place in Southern Colombia

In Colombia, the strongest traditional roots of ayahuasca are found in the southern Amazonian regions, especially Putumayo, near the borders with Ecuador and Peru.

This region is home to several indigenous groups whose ceremonial use of the medicine goes back generations.

The traditions there developed along river systems that historically connected communities long before modern national borders existed.

In practical terms, these traditions were never isolated to one modern country. They spread through indigenous exchange across Amazonian territory.

The plant medicine existed before the borders did.

Inga, Kamsá, and Cofán Traditions

Among the groups Sam has worked with most closely are the Inga, whose ceremonial lineage forms the foundation of LaWayra’s current practice.

He has also sat in ceremonies with Kamsá and Cofán shamans, each carrying distinct ritual styles, songs, and preparation methods.

Although outsiders often search for one “correct” ayahuasca tradition, Sam emphasizes that multiple lineages exist, each valid in its own way.

Some medicines are thicker, some more liquid.

Some traditions rely heavily on music, others more on silence.

Some emphasize fire continuously during ceremony, while others structure space differently.

The medicine may vary, but the purpose remains similar: healing, insight, and guidance.

Why the Shaman Is Called Tata

In many Colombian traditions, male ceremonial leaders are called Tata, while female leaders are called Mama.

The word carries meanings similar to father, elder, or respected guide.

Unlike the word “shaman,” which entered global vocabulary from outside South America, Tata belongs more naturally inside the local context.

It signals not only ceremonial authority but relational respect.

A Tata is not simply someone serving medicine.

He is expected to hold knowledge, responsibility, and emotional steadiness.

Becoming a Tata Is a Long Process

One of the strongest points Sam makes is that true ceremonial authority takes years.

In traditional pathways, becoming a Tata often requires five to ten years or more of intensive apprenticeship.

That usually includes repeated dieta, long periods in jungle conditions, physical hardship, direct learning under older healers, and continuous medicine work.

The process is not romantic.

It is difficult, repetitive, and often uncomfortable.

This is why Sam strongly rejects short certification models where someone drinks ayahuasca a handful of times and quickly claims ceremonial authority.

In his words, serving ayahuasca responsibly resembles soul surgery: no one should enter that role without deep preparation.

Legal Recognition in Colombia

Colombia has a unique legal framework compared with many countries.

Ayahuasca is not fully legalized in the modern commercial sense, but indigenous ceremonial use is protected as part of ancestral heritage.

This means recognized indigenous authorities can legally authorize ceremonial work through community structures.

A Tata carrying proper recognition can transport and serve medicine under that protection.

This creates a middle ground: neither full prohibition nor complete deregulation.

For Sam, that balance helps preserve seriousness while preventing total chaos.

Why Tradition Matters More Than Many Realize

One of his strongest concerns is what happens when medicine becomes detached from tradition.

He compares it to removing a tree from its roots.

The plant may still exist, but the stability disappears.

Tradition does not simply provide songs or aesthetic atmosphere.

It provides tested methods for dosage, emotional containment, safety, and interpretation.

Without that structure, difficult experiences can become chaotic instead of healing.

This is why LaWayra combines indigenous ceremony with modern preparation and integration rather than reducing the process to a single psychedelic event.

Ayahuasca as Wisdom, Not Just Experience

In many indigenous understandings, ayahuasca is not merely something consumed for visions.

It is a source of knowledge.

People traditionally came not only for healing but for practical guidance.

A Tata might drink the medicine while another person asks for help with illness, emotional suffering, family conflict, or even locating something lost.

In that sense, the medicine has always been used diagnostically as much as therapeutically.

The ceremony was not entertainment.

It was consultation with a deeper layer of intelligence.

Colombia’s Image Is Slowly Changing

Sam believes Colombia still carries outdated associations internationally.

Yet every year more people arrive and discover a very different country: mountains, forests, hospitality, and increasingly respected retreat spaces.

For him, ayahuasca may eventually become one of the forces helping reshape Colombia’s global image.

Not by replacing history, but by revealing another side of the country that has always existed.

A Country Still Emerging in the Global Conversation

What makes Colombia especially interesting today is that it still feels less commercialized than some better-known destinations.

The traditions remain close to living communities rather than fully absorbed into tourism infrastructure.

That creates both opportunity and responsibility.

If growth happens carefully, Colombia may become one of the most important ayahuasca destinations in the world not because it imitates others, but because it finally becomes visible for what it already is.

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Listen to the whole podcast episode here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-4iG3R8mGKY

Ayahuasca is often introduced through mystery. Some hear about it through documentaries, some through podcasts, and many first encounter it surrounded by controversy, legal debate, or exaggerated stories. But for Sam Believ, founder of LaWayra Ayahuasca Retreat in Colombia, the deeper meaning of ayahuasca becomes much simpler once a person experiences it directly: it is a medicine that reconnects people with themselves at a time when modern life has pulled them far away from who they are.

What makes his perspective especially unusual is that he speaks not only as someone working with plant medicine, but also as someone constantly balancing spirituality with the practical realities of building and running a retreat center in the modern world.

A Retreat That Began Through Unexpected Events

Sam often describes the beginning of LaWayra not as a carefully planned business idea, but as something that unfolded through a sequence of events that gradually led him in one direction.

At first, there was no clear intention to create a retreat center.

He simply wanted to drink medicine at his own countryside property rather than travel elsewhere for ceremonies.

Then someone entered his life who wanted to rent the place for retreats.

Later came suggestions that he should organize retreats himself.

That first arrangement failed, another opportunity appeared, and step by step, what looked accidental became a full project.

Looking back, he describes it as a mixture of coincidence, work, and what many spiritual traditions would call synchronicity.

Why Healing Naturally Leads to Sharing

A major reason the project continued growing was personal conviction.

Like many people who experience meaningful relief through ayahuasca, Sam felt a strong desire to help others discover the same possibility.

When someone has struggled with depression, anxiety, emotional heaviness, or lack of direction and then experiences genuine relief, it becomes difficult not to speak about it.

That inner motivation eventually became stronger than the fear of entering an unusual field.

Over time, that motivation turned into a retreat that has now served more than a thousand guests.

What Ayahuasca Actually Is

Sam explains ayahuasca in very practical terms.

It is a brew made from two plants traditionally prepared in Amazonian regions of Colombia, Peru, Ecuador, and Brazil.

The process of cooking it takes several days until it becomes a thick dark liquid used ceremonially.

But the real explanation begins after the chemistry.

For him, ayahuasca works because it reconnects people to something many have lost: direct contact with their own deeper emotional and psychological layers.

That is why people often describe it not simply as seeing visions, but as receiving insight.

It may feel spiritual to some, psychological to others, but almost everyone leaves feeling they encountered something deeply personal.

Why It Cannot Be Reduced to Chemistry Alone

Modern science understands certain molecules involved in ayahuasca.

Researchers know how compounds interact with brain receptors.

What remains much harder to explain is why many effects continue long after the active compounds leave the body.

The medicine may no longer be chemically present after several hours, yet people often report emotional changes lasting weeks, months, or even years.

For Sam, this is one reason indigenous traditions still matter.

Long before science studied molecules, traditional healers had already developed practical knowledge based on generations of direct experience.

Why It Is Different from Ordinary Drugs

One of the strongest distinctions he makes is that ayahuasca should not be understood in the same category as substances designed for pleasure or escape.

Unlike alcohol or recreational drugs, the process is often physically demanding.

There can be nausea, emotional confrontation, discomfort, and difficult moments.

That difficulty is precisely why addiction rarely forms around it.

People may deeply value the medicine, but very few crave repeated ceremony for pleasure.

The process demands too much honesty.

The Reset Many People Describe

A common experience among guests is what Sam compares to restarting a computer.

People often arrive mentally overloaded — anxious, emotionally tired, overstimulated, or disconnected.

After ceremony, many describe unusual clarity.

Not euphoria in a superficial sense, but mental freshness.

Thoughts feel quieter.

Emotional reactions become less automatic.

For some, this becomes the first time in years they feel internally calm without external distraction.

Why Modern Society Feels So Disconnected

A recurring theme in Sam’s reflections is that much of modern suffering comes from disconnection.

People are disconnected from nature, from silence, from tradition, and often from themselves.

Daily life fills every empty space with stimulation.

Phones, work pressure, endless decisions, and constant comparison leave little room for introspection.

This is why even basic silence now feels difficult for many people.

The moment external distraction disappears, unresolved internal material quickly becomes visible.

Why Addiction Often Begins with Emotional Pain

He also connects many modern addictions to this same disconnection.

Alcohol, cigarettes, food, compulsive scrolling, overwork, and many other habits often serve the same function: temporary relief from internal discomfort.

The substance itself is not always the root problem.

The deeper issue is usually emotional pain that has not been fully understood.

This is why some people lose addictive patterns after ceremony without directly trying to quit.

Once the original emotional pressure weakens, the compulsive need often weakens too.

Running a Spiritual Project Inside a Capitalist World

One of the most honest parts of Sam’s perspective is how openly he talks about the tension between healing and business.

LaWayra is a retreat, but it is also a company with staff, infrastructure, construction, salaries, and ongoing operational costs.

That creates a constant internal balance.

He wants the retreat to remain affordable and accessible, but also sustainable enough to continue growing.

At present, LaWayra remains significantly lower in price than many comparable South American retreats, even while supporting a growing team and expanding facilities.

Growth Without Losing the Core Purpose

The retreat now runs multiple programs each month and continues expanding physically.

Cabins are being built, roads improved, and infrastructure upgraded.

Yet the central idea remains unchanged:

the retreat should not become luxury detached from healing.

It should remain a place where people come because they need something real.

Why Ancient Traditions Still Matter in the Future

Perhaps the strongest message beneath Sam’s work is that ancient traditions may still carry answers for modern problems that technology alone has not solved.

The world has become more efficient, more connected digitally, and more materially developed.

Yet emotional suffering remains widespread.

Depression, anxiety, addiction, and meaninglessness continue rising.

For him, ayahuasca is not a miracle solution, but it may be one of the tools helping people remember that healing often begins not by adding more, but by returning to something older, slower, and more honest.

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Listen to the whole podcast episode here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t4PRsoJEyZs

Ayahuasca and DMT are often mentioned in the same conversation, but according to Sam Believ, founder of LaWayra Ayahuasca Retreat in Colombia, they should not be treated as interchangeable experiences. Although DMT is one of the active compounds found in ayahuasca, he argues that reducing ayahuasca to DMT alone misses almost everything that makes the traditional medicine powerful.

For many newcomers, the comparison begins with convenience. DMT appears fast, intense, and brief. Ayahuasca requires preparation, ceremony, time, and often physical discomfort. Yet Sam believes that this difference is precisely why the two lead to very different outcomes.

Why Ayahuasca Is More Than One Molecule

One of Sam’s simplest comparisons is that isolated DMT is like eating one ingredient from a full meal and assuming you understand the whole dish.

Ayahuasca contains far more than a single psychoactive effect.

The brew combines multiple plants, traditional preparation methods, ceremonial structure, and indigenous knowledge developed over generations.

Even before the medicine is consumed, the setting already shapes the experience: the presence of a shaman, music, intention, ritual order, and emotional containment all influence what happens.

This is why he rejects the idea that ayahuasca can be understood simply as “DMT in liquid form.”

Why Duration Changes Everything

A major difference is time.

DMT often produces a very intense experience lasting only minutes.

Ayahuasca unfolds over several hours.

That longer duration creates space for emotional processes that go beyond visual phenomena.

Instead of being pushed rapidly through extraordinary imagery, participants often move through memories, emotions, realizations, physical release, and internal dialogue in a slower and more structured way.

For Sam, healing often depends on this slower unfolding.

The Role of Purging

One of the most misunderstood parts of ayahuasca is purging.

Many first-timers fear vomiting and see it only as an unpleasant side effect.

Sam describes it very differently.

In his experience, purging is often one of the core mechanisms of release.

People frequently report that after vomiting they feel physically lighter, emotionally calmer, or mentally clearer.

The process is often described not as illness, but as expulsion of something stored deeply inside.

This is one reason he believes isolated psychedelics cannot fully replicate the same healing dynamic.

Why DMT and Ayahuasca Lead to Different Outcomes

Sam does not deny that DMT can produce extraordinary experiences.

People often report contact with entities, geometric realms, or overwhelming visions.

But he emphasizes that powerful imagery does not automatically equal lasting change.

In his observation, many people return from ayahuasca with measurable changes in daily life: reduced depression, less anxiety, less alcohol use, greater emotional clarity, and sometimes complete shifts in long-standing habits.

That type of lasting change appears far less consistently in isolated DMT use.

The Problem of Removing Tradition

A central concern for Sam is what happens when ancient medicines are separated from the traditions that protected them.

He gives several examples of plants that originally had sacred or balanced uses before modern culture transformed them into something very different.

Cacao became sugar-heavy chocolate.

Coca became cocaine.

Tobacco became industrial cigarettes.

In each case, a traditional plant was stripped from its context and altered for convenience or stimulation.

He worries that something similar happens when ayahuasca is reduced to extracted compounds without respect for its ceremonial framework.

Why Ceremony Matters

For Sam, ceremony is not decorative.

It is part of safety.

The shaman is not simply present to create atmosphere but to guide, regulate, and protect the experience.

Traditional music, smoke cleansing, and ritual sequencing all serve specific functions developed over generations.

Without that structure, difficult experiences may become confusing or destabilizing.

This is why he strongly advises against treating powerful psychedelics casually, even when they appear easy to access.

Can DMT Still Have Value?

Although critical of simplification, Sam is not entirely dismissive of DMT.

He accepts that some people may find value in it, especially if approached intentionally.

But he argues that intention matters enormously.

A casual use during a work break or for entertainment misses the seriousness these substances require.

If someone chooses to work with DMT, he believes it should still be done with respect, preparation, and a clear internal reason.

Why Ayahuasca Often Feels Self-Regulating

One of the most striking aspects he describes is that ayahuasca often appears to regulate the relationship itself.

Some people who return too quickly without integrating previous lessons report difficult ceremonies.

In Sam’s own experience, coming back too soon led to a harsh session that seemed to reflect unfinished inner work.

This has led many experienced drinkers to describe ayahuasca almost as a teacher that responds differently depending on how a person approaches it.

Why Western Thinking Often Seeks Shortcuts

A recurring theme in Sam’s perspective is that modern culture constantly searches for faster versions of everything.

Shorter methods.

Simpler formulas.

More immediate results.

But he believes some things lose their essence when stripped down too aggressively.

Healing, especially deep emotional healing, often requires time, discomfort, and patience.

Ayahuasca does not fit neatly into the modern desire for speed.

Ancient Knowledge in a Modern World

For Sam, the real lesson is not that tradition must remain frozen, but that modern systems should approach older knowledge with humility.

It is possible to combine modern retreat organization, medical screening, and psychological integration with indigenous ceremonial wisdom.

But removing tradition entirely often creates confusion rather than progress.

The medicine may still work, but something essential becomes weaker.

In that sense, ayahuasca remains not just a substance, but a relationship between plant, ritual, guide, and human intention.

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Listen to the whole podcast episode here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bIhKaWBbuBs

As interest in psychedelic healing continues to grow worldwide, ayahuasca retreats are becoming increasingly visible — but not all retreats are built the same way. For Sam Believ, founder of LaWayra Ayahuasca Retreat in Colombia, the goal has never been simply to create another retreat center. His larger vision is to make deep healing more accessible while preserving traditional indigenous medicine in a way that remains practical for modern people.

That philosophy explains why LaWayra has expanded quickly while also becoming one of the most reviewed ayahuasca retreats in South America.

Why Accessibility Became a Core Principle

One of the strongest beliefs behind Sam’s work is that ayahuasca should not become something available only to wealthy spiritual travelers.

Many retreats in South America charge prices that place the experience beyond reach for many people, especially those already struggling with depression, anxiety, burnout, or emotional crisis.

Sam chose a different route: lower the entry barrier.

For him, accessibility means more than price.

It also means simplifying preparation, reducing unnecessary complexity, and creating an environment where first-timers do not feel intimidated by spiritual formalities.

The retreat is designed so that someone completely new to plant medicine can arrive without already belonging to a spiritual subculture.

Why Traditional Quality Still Matters

Although accessibility is important, Sam insists that lower cost should never mean lower quality in the medicine itself.

One of the strongest elements of LaWayra’s model is that the ayahuasca comes from a traditional indigenous source.

The shaman works within a family lineage where ceremonial knowledge has been passed down through generations.

He grows the vines in the Amazon, harvests them himself, and prepares the medicine through traditional cooking methods.

For Sam, this is one of the biggest differences between authentic retreat work and more superficial operations where medicine may be bought without knowing its full origin.

Why Integration Is Just as Important as Ceremony

Sam repeatedly emphasizes that the ceremony itself is only part of the process.

A powerful ayahuasca experience can open deep emotional insight, but if a person returns home without understanding how to integrate it, much of the long-term benefit may fade.

That is why integration has become a central part of the retreat structure.

Guests are encouraged to reflect, journal, share, and begin translating insights into daily habits.

Without integration, ayahuasca risks becoming a dramatic experience rather than a lasting transformation.

Why the Healing Does Not End After the Retreat

One of Sam’s most practical observations is that true growth begins after people leave Colombia.

Inside the retreat environment, everything supports emotional openness: nature, quiet, ceremony, group connection, and distance from normal pressures.

The real challenge begins when someone returns home.

Traffic, work stress, conflict, family tension, and ordinary life quickly test whether the inner shift is real.

This is why he often says that the real work starts after the retreat, not during it.

Why Ayahuasca Rarely Becomes Addictive

A common concern for people unfamiliar with ayahuasca is whether repeated use creates dependency.

Sam’s answer is simple: ayahuasca is too demanding to become casually addictive.

The process often involves emotional confrontation, physical purging, difficult realizations, and long internal work.

People do not usually crave that for pleasure.

In fact, even experienced drinkers often hesitate before ceremony because they know the medicine demands honesty.

What sometimes happens instead is that people return because they have unfinished work — not because they seek entertainment.

Why Preparation Should Be Serious but Realistic

Sam also rejects extreme preparation requirements that may discourage people unnecessarily.

He believes certain things matter greatly, especially stopping antidepressants and other psychoactive medications well in advance, because some combinations can be dangerous.

But he does not believe someone needs months of extreme discipline before arriving.

In his view, asking deeply anxious or depressed people to become perfectly disciplined before healing often creates another barrier.

A realistic preparation process works better than an idealized one few people can maintain.

Why Colombia Became the Right Place

Although Sam originally came to Colombia long before ayahuasca became central in his life, the country eventually became the natural home for the retreat.

He describes Colombia as a place with unusual balance: strong natural beauty, relatively low cost of living, warm climate, and living indigenous traditions still connected to ayahuasca.

For years Colombia remained overshadowed by Peru in psychedelic tourism, largely because international tourism developed later.

That delay, however, also preserved certain traditions from becoming overly commercialized too early.

Why the Retreat Keeps Expanding

LaWayra began very small.

At first, ceremonies were occasional and informal.

Over time, retreat frequency increased as demand grew.

Today multiple retreat periods run each month, and expansion continues.

New cabins, more infrastructure, and long-term planning are gradually turning the retreat into something larger than short ceremonial visits.

The Vision Beyond Retreats

What Sam ultimately wants is not only a retreat center but a healing community.

The long-term idea includes spaces where people stay longer, work remotely, integrate deeply, exercise, meditate, and remain connected to healthier habits rather than immediately returning to old patterns.

In this vision, ayahuasca becomes an entry point rather than the entire experience.

People come for medicine, but remain for the environment that helps sustain change.

Why Demand Will Likely Keep Growing

Sam believes global demand for plant medicine will continue rising because the scale of emotional suffering is simply too large to ignore.

Depression, anxiety, trauma, and burnout are no longer fringe issues.

At the same time, many people feel conventional approaches have not fully addressed root causes.

As scientific interest in psychedelics grows, he expects more people to explore ayahuasca not out of curiosity alone, but because they are actively searching for a different kind of relief.

For many, that search begins only after everything else has already failed.

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Listen to the whole podcast episode here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1JOmSVheiBw

For many first-time visitors, ayahuasca arrives surrounded by uncertainty. People hear dramatic stories, see intense reactions, and wonder whether the medicine is truly healing or simply overwhelming. According to Sam Believ, founder of LaWayra Ayahuasca Retreat in Colombia, the answer depends entirely on how the medicine is approached. In the right setting, with the right preparation and guidance, ayahuasca can become one of the most powerful tools for emotional healing available today.

What Ayahuasca Actually Is

Sam explains ayahuasca in very practical terms: it is a traditional brew made by cooking two plants together over several days until they form a thick medicinal liquid.

One ingredient is the ayahuasca vine, while the second is a plant containing DMT, the psychoactive compound that creates the visionary aspect of the experience.

The vine itself plays a crucial role because it allows DMT to become active when taken orally. Without that interaction, the experience would not unfold in the same way.

For indigenous communities, however, the chemistry is only one part of the story. For thousands of years, the brew has been treated not as a drug, but as medicine — something used intentionally for healing, guidance, and understanding.

Why Every Experience Is Different

One of the most important lessons Sam shares is that ayahuasca rarely matches expectations.

Some people expect strong visuals and receive emotional clarity instead. Others expect insight and find themselves confronting physical discomfort, old memories, or powerful body sensations.

He often explains that the medicine seems to respond less to what a person wants and more to what they currently need.

That is why two people sitting side by side in the same ceremony can have completely different experiences.

One may feel deep peace while another moves through fear, grief, or intense internal questioning.

Why Purging Is Often Part of the Healing

For newcomers, vomiting is usually one of the biggest fears.

Yet once people experience it, many describe purging as one of the most meaningful moments of release during ceremony.

Sam explains that physical purging often arrives together with emotional release.

A difficult memory may surface, followed by vomiting, and afterward the emotional charge surrounding that memory often changes.

What felt heavy becomes lighter.

What felt trapped becomes mobile again.

This is why traditional ceremony does not treat purging as a problem, but often as a sign that something important is moving.

Why Safety Depends on Preparation

Although ayahuasca can be deeply healing, Sam emphasizes that it is not for everyone without exceptions.

People with schizophrenia in the family, serious heart conditions, or those taking certain medications — especially antidepressants — need special caution.

The medicine itself is not inherently dangerous for most healthy people, but interactions with medication can be serious.

That is why retreat preparation includes dietary guidance, medication restrictions, and clear screening before arrival.

For an average healthy person, however, he considers ayahuasca extremely safe when served correctly.

Why the Shaman Matters So Much

A major part of that safety comes from the ceremonial leadership.

Sam strongly warns against drinking ayahuasca casually, alone, or with inexperienced facilitators.

In his view, the presence of a real indigenous shaman is not simply cultural decoration — it is central to physical and emotional safety.

A trained shaman understands dosage, pacing, energetic shifts, and how to guide difficult moments during ceremony.

At LaWayra, cups are spaced carefully across the night to prevent people from going too deep too quickly.

That pacing is deliberate: too much medicine too early can make the journey overwhelming rather than productive.

Why Experience Matters More Than Labels

One of Sam’s strongest concerns is the growing number of people who begin serving medicine after very little training.

He believes the global popularity of ayahuasca has created situations where people present themselves as guides without having the depth required to hold ceremonies responsibly.

For him, true ceremonial authority takes years — often decades — of training inside indigenous lineages.

Someone may look spiritual, speak confidently, and still lack the knowledge needed when a ceremony becomes difficult.

That is why he advises people to choose retreats based on lineage, experience, and long-term reputation rather than appearance alone.

Why Depression Often Changes After Ceremony

Sam’s own relationship with ayahuasca began during a period he now recognizes as depression.

He had not been formally diagnosed, but emotionally he knew something was wrong.

His first deeper experiences with medicine did not instantly solve life, but they did something equally important: they removed enough pain for him to see clearly.

That clarity then made change possible.

He often explains that depression is not always random chemistry.

For many people, it is connected to suppressed emotion, dissatisfaction, fear, or unresolved life patterns.

Ayahuasca does not simply numb those feelings — it often reveals them directly.

Why People Call It Years of Therapy

At retreats, many participants describe one week of ceremony as feeling like years of therapy compressed into a short time.

Sam understands why.

In ordinary life, people often avoid uncomfortable thoughts for years.

Inside ceremony, those same thoughts can become impossible to ignore.

But unlike ordinary rumination, the medicine often adds perspective.

Pain appears together with meaning.

Patterns become visible.

What felt chaotic starts to make sense.

Why Integration Is the Real Work

Despite all the intensity of ceremony, Sam repeatedly says the most important part happens afterward.

A powerful experience alone does not change a life unless the person begins applying what they saw.

That is why journaling, walking in nature, meditation, silence, and reflection are all encouraged after retreat.

Sometimes integration means making large changes.

Sometimes it means doing nothing dramatic at all — simply allowing new understanding to settle.

But what matters most is not losing the insight immediately under everyday noise.

Why Modern Life Makes This So Necessary

One reason Sam believes ayahuasca resonates so strongly today is because many people rarely stop long enough to listen to themselves.

Modern life encourages productivity, distraction, and constant stimulation.

Very little space remains for internal reflection.

Even taking one week entirely for healing feels unusual to many people.

Yet he believes that lack of pause is one reason so many people struggle emotionally.

The retreat environment itself becomes healing because for many participants it is the first time in years they have truly stepped away.

A Tool, Not a Miracle

Sam is careful not to present ayahuasca as magic.

It does not automatically create happiness or permanently remove pain.

What it often does is interrupt automatic suffering long enough for new choices to become visible.

For some, that means healing depression.

For others, addiction weakens, anxiety softens, or emotional direction becomes clearer.

But the medicine still expects something afterward: honesty, patience, and willingness to continue the work once ceremony ends.

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Listen to the whole podcast episode here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GCjXIHLqh0c