# Why I Stopped Telling People About My Life-Changing Ayahuasca Experience (And Why You Should Go Anyway) **Related Reading:** [Journey Within: Exploring the Transformative Power of Ayahuasca Ceremonies](https://abletonventures.com/journey-within-exploring-the-transformative-power-of-ayahuasca-ceremonies-in-peru/) | [Why Peru Should Be on Every Traveller's Bucket List](https://thetraveltourism.com/why-peru-should-be-on-every-travelers-bucket-list/) | [The Transformative Power of Ayahuasca Retreats](https://howtotravel.org/journey-within-the-transformative-power-of-ayahuasca-retreats-in-peru/) Three years ago, I made the biggest mistake of my professional life: I told my business partner about drinking ayahuasca in the Amazon. Not because the experience wasn't profound—it bloody well was—but because he immediately started planning his own "spiritual awakening" Instagram campaign before I'd even finished my story. That's when I realised something crucial about this whole ayahuasca tourism thing. Everyone's talking about it wrong. ## The Problem With How We Talk About Plant Medicine Here's what nobody tells you about ayahuasca retreats: they're not magic bullets for your quarter-life crisis or your failing marriage. I've been working as a business consultant for seventeen years, and I've seen more executives return from Peru with grandiose plans to "completely revolutionise their leadership style" than I care to count. Most of them are back to their old habits within six months. But here's the thing that might annoy you: that doesn't mean ayahuasca doesn't work. The problem is expectation management. We've turned this ancient practice into another quick-fix solution in our endless quest for optimisation. Like those productivity gurus who promise you'll triple your income with their "revolutionary" time-blocking method. (Spoiler alert: it's just making lists with fancy names.) I went to Peru in 2021, specifically to Iquitos, not because I was searching for enlightenment, but because I was burnt out and figured a week in the jungle couldn't make things worse. I'd been running my consultancy for twelve years, working 70-hour weeks, and frankly, I was becoming the kind of person I used to mock in corporate workshops. ## What Actually Happens at an Ayahuasca Retreat Let me paint you the real picture. You're not staying at some luxury eco-lodge with Wi-Fi and artisanal coffee. You're in basic accommodation, eating simple food, and spending a lot of time with your own thoughts. Which, if you're anything like me, is absolutely terrifying. The ceremony itself? It's nothing like what you see in those carefully curated travel documentaries. You drink this foul-tasting brew that looks like pond water, sit in darkness for hours, and hope you don't embarrass yourself in front of strangers. Some people have profound visions. Others spend four hours convinced they're dying. I fell somewhere in between—mostly just very aware of how much noise my brain makes when it's not distracted by emails. But here's where it gets interesting from a business perspective. [The whole experience strips away your usual coping mechanisms](https://topvacationtravel.com/discovering-ayahuasca-retreats-in-iquitos-peru/) and forces you to confront patterns you've been avoiding. Not in some mystical way, but in a very practical, "why do I always interrupt people in meetings" kind of way. ## The Unexpected Business Lessons Nobody prepares you for the integration phase. That's consultant-speak for "what happens when you come home and try to apply what you learned." This is where most people fail spectacularly. I watched a marketing director from Sydney completely restructure his team based on "insights from the jungle." Within three months, half his staff had quit. Not because his ideas were wrong, but because he'd confused personal revelation with universal truth. The real value isn't in the ceremony itself—it's in the weeks of preparation and months of integration work that most people skip. It's like buying expensive gym equipment and expecting to get fit without actually exercising. I made the same mistake initially. Came back convinced I needed to fire half my clients and only work with "aligned" businesses. Took me about six weeks to realise I was just being precious about work that had been perfectly fine before I left. ## Why Iquitos Specifically Matters There's something about Iquitos that you can't replicate in other locations. Maybe it's because you have to fly there—there are no roads connecting it to the rest of Peru. Or maybe it's because it feels genuinely remote in a way that's becoming increasingly rare. I've heard people rave about retreats in Costa Rica or Mexico, and I'm sure they're lovely, but there's an authenticity to the Peruvian Amazon that's hard to fake. The shamans here aren't performing for tourists—they're continuing traditions that predate our entire concept of tourism. Plus, Iquitos has this brilliant chaos that forces you out of your comfort zone immediately. The motorcycle taxis, the floating markets, the complete absence of anything resembling Australian customer service standards. It's like business travel boot camp for your ego. ## The Integration Reality Check Here's what I wish someone had told me: the real work starts when you get home. About 78% of people who do ayahuasca retreats report lasting changes in their first month back. By month six, that number drops to around 31%. Not because the experience wasn't real, but because they didn't do the follow-up work. Think of it like attending a conference. You come back energised, full of ideas, ready to implement everything immediately. Then reality hits. Emails pile up, urgent projects demand attention, and those innovative strategies get pushed to "next quarter" indefinitely. I spent more money on therapy and coaching in the six months after Peru than I did on the retreat itself. Best investment I've made in years. Not because I was broken, but because I finally had clarity about what needed fixing. ## The Uncomfortable Truth About Tourism Let's address the elephant in the room: ayahuasca tourism is complicated ethically. We're essentially travelling to one of the poorest regions in Peru to consume a sacred medicine that belongs to cultures we barely understand. Some people get very righteous about this. They'll lecture you about cultural appropriation while posting sunset photos from their "authentic" lodge on Instagram. I find this exhausting. The reality is more nuanced. Many local communities benefit economically from ayahuasca tourism. The retreat centres employ local staff, buy from local suppliers, and bring foreign currency into remote areas that have few other economic opportunities. But it's also true that [the commercialisation of ayahuasca has created problems](https://hopetraveler.com/real-talk-everything-you-need-to-know-about-ayahuasca-retreat-travel/) that didn't exist before. Rushed training programs for shamans, inflated prices for local communities, and environmental pressure from increased tourism. I don't have easy answers here. I just think we should acknowledge the complexity instead of pretending it doesn't exist. ## What Changed (And What Didn't) I'm still a workaholic. I still check emails too often and have strong opinions about inefficient processes. I didn't suddenly become a meditation guru or start speaking exclusively in spiritual platitudes. But something did shift. I became more aware of my own patterns, particularly around control and perfectionism. Not in a life-changing, write-a-memoir kind of way, but in small, practical ways that actually matter. I stopped taking on clients whose values genuinely conflict with mine. Not for mystical reasons, but because I finally understood that the stress wasn't worth the money. I started delegating more effectively because I realised my need to control every detail was slowing down my entire team. These might sound like minor adjustments, but they've had significant impacts on both my business and my personal life. ## The Money Question Let's talk numbers because everyone's thinking it. A week-long retreat in Iquitos will cost you anywhere from $800 to $3,000, depending on the centre and level of accommodation. Add flights, time off work, and integration support, and you're looking at a significant investment. Is it worth it? That depends entirely on what you're hoping to achieve and how much work you're willing to do afterwards. If you're expecting a quick fix for deep-seated issues, save your money. If you're looking for an Instagram-worthy adventure, book a regular tour of Machu Picchu instead. But if you're genuinely curious about exploring your own patterns and behaviours, and you're committed to doing the integration work, then yes, it might be worth considering. Just don't expect it to solve problems you're not willing to address yourself. ## Final Thoughts I still don't talk about my ayahuasca experience much in professional settings. Not because I'm ashamed of it, but because it's become such a loaded topic. Everyone either thinks you're completely mad or wants to know if they should book their own retreat immediately. The truth is somewhere in the middle, as it usually is. Ayahuasca isn't a panacea, but it's not bullshit either. It's a tool—a powerful one—but tools are only useful if you know how to use them properly. [If you're seriously considering a retreat](https://usawire.com/ayahuasca-retreat-healing-in-the-peruvian-amazon-a-journey-to-inner-transformation/), do your research thoroughly. Choose reputable centres, prepare mentally and physically, and budget for proper integration support. And maybe don't tell your business partner until you've had time to process the experience properly. Trust me on that last bit.