A shamanic memoir of healing, transformation and remembering — woven from five books and a lifetime of nights with Yagé, the Taitas, and the plant spirits of the Amazon.
Voice of the Wind is not a doctrine and not a how-to. It is a gathering of stories, visions and lived truths — offered with deep respect to the plants, spirits and ancestral voices that guided the way through the visible and the invisible.
The Amazon does not heal with chemistry alone. It heals through presences — the brown deer, the jaguar, the bee, the grandmother vine — each a teacher met in ceremony, on the page.
The sacred brew of the Amazon. The first cup cleanses, the second heals, the third — sung over by the Taita — opens the doorways into realms beyond imagination.
The little brown deer of the forest — pure medicine. When called, the rhythm of its hooves beats in cadence with your own heart and the healer's chant.
The jaguar walks the night world of the ceremony. A protector, a force, a teacher of the fierce stillness needed to face fear without running.
One of many plant spirits met on the path — woven through chapters on addiction, the root of suffering, and the long work of letting go.
From frog medicine to the desert cactus, the book maps a wider council of plant and animal allies — diets, dangers, and the gifts each one carries.
The trickster guardian of the wild. Among the invisible ones, the dreamed, and the bamboo people — the unseen company of every ceremony.
The Master Medicine Men of the Colombian and Ecuadorian Amazon. Thirty years and more of drinking Yagé, of healing — grandfathers whose canto, the sacred chant received from the medicine, guides them through other realms.
The protection a true healer offers is everything — what separates a Master Medicine Man from someone merely facilitating a ceremony.
Beyond the band of human thought lies the Dreaming — a dark space dotted with stars, and then the gate. Beyond it: the Realm of Crystalline Light, and Infinity.
The book follows healing as it moves through the body and the spine — the web of light, the cleansing of dark energies, the long night of the soul, and the dawn that follows it.
And then the visions open. "I saw all around me — 360 degrees at once. An infinite expanse filled with rows upon rows of diamonds, curtains of shimmering crystalline light stretching without end."
This is the heart of the work: not learning, but remembering something we never truly forgot.
I am just one more voice carried by the wind — sometimes loud, sometimes quiet, sometimes lost in the trees. But if you listen with your heart, maybe you will recognise that the voice is not mine. It's yours. It's ours.
Read it tonight as an instant digital download — the full 407-page journey, yours forever. The medicine is in the words.
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Voice of the Wind shares one man's lived experience. It is not medical advice, not a guide to preparing or taking any plant, and not an invitation to practise alone. Ayahuasca and other sacred plants can heal — and can also destabilise. They are worked with safely only within authentic ceremony, with a true Taita or healer, and with proper screening and aftercare.
We are all wanderers in an endless Universe — an eternal dance of Light and Shadows. We are the very Source, experiencing itself in endless ways.
What you will find in these pages are pieces of a path I’ve walked—sometimes crawling, sometimes dancing, some times simply surviving. A path guided not by ambition, but by a quiet inner knowing that healing was possible, and that remembering was necessary. Voice of the Wind is not a manual, nor a doctrine. It’s not meant to teach, convince, or convert. It is a gathering of stories, lessons, visions, and lived truths—my own and those I’ve witnessed—offered with a deep sense of respect to the plants, spirits, and ancestral voices who have guided me along the way. In these chapters, you’ll find the medicine of the jungle, the wisdom of ceremony, and the raw presence of fear, doubt, laughter, and grace. You’ll meet the Ego and its tricks, the Spirit and its silence. You’ll hear about healing, both received and resisted. And you’ll encounter forgiveness— not just as a concept, but as a living fire that can burn away years of suffering if we’re willing to let it. This book weaves together what I’ve carried from five previous works, along with new writings born out of more recent journeys. It’s more refined now—less about the amount of content, more about the heart of it. I’ve chosen only what still breathes with truth. I’m no guru. I’ve stumbled more times than I can count. But I’ve also stood back up, with the help of good people, strong medicine, and the mysterious presence of some thing greater than myself. I call it Spirit. Others may call it Christ, or Krishna, or simply Love. The name matters less than the connection. If these words serve you in any way—if they bring peace, clarity, or a sense that you are not alone on your path— then this offering has done what it was meant to do. With gratitude for the road behind and hope for the road ahead.
Wispering Wind There is a voice that speaks without words. It rises with the wind, brushes past your ear, and disap pears before you can grasp it. This voice has followed me through the many paths I’ve walked — in the silence of the jungle, in the chants of a distant ceremony, in the laughter of strangers and the stillness of my own breath. What you are holding in your hands is not just a book. It is a gathering of stories, fragments, lessons, and moments I lived while walking between the visible and the invisible. It’s a reflection of a long search, not for answers, but for meaning. A remembering. These pages are woven from many years of walking, lis tening, learning, falling, and rising again. They come from five previous books, each born from a stage of the path, and now brought together — not as a conclusion, but as a kind of offering. Along the way, I’ve added new pieces, insights that found me after the storm had passed. I am not a teacher. I am not a master of anything. I’m just one more voice carried by the wind — sometimes loud, sometimes quiet, sometimes lost in the trees. But if you listen with your heart, maybe you will recognize that the voice is not mine. It’s yours. It’s ours. This is Voice of the Wind. A journey through worlds, within and without. A remembering of something we never really forgot.
