Nature’s Network

Words: Emma Pallent | Photography: Mark Fox

While the Amazon rainforest is commonly referred to as the lungs of the planet, those living inside it call it the brain. It’s widely understood to be a major carbon offsetter, continuing to cleanse the air of a quarter of the CO2 absorbed by the entire Earth – despite deforestation. However, fewer people are aware that a quarter of modern Western medicine is derived from rainforest plants, and the Amazon has functioned as a pharmacy that Indigenous communities have been using for thousands of years – long before the existence of pharmaceutical companies.

Mark Fox, a natural history photographer who has just returned from Ecuador, spent seven years in between one of the world’s most dangerous cities and the Amazon, capturing the lives of its Indigenous communities. When he asked how they knew which handful of plants – out of a sea of 80,000 species – combined to create certain medicines, the people simply replied that the forest told them. Having lived in the rainforest for tens of thousands of years, these communities pass known treatments down through oral tradition and discover new ones using their finely tuned connection to nature. 

During his time working in the rainforest throughout the coronavirus pandemic, a particular group of Indigenous people combined multiple plant species into a liquid immunity shot, which they gave to outsiders upon entry to the forest. “It tasted incredibly strong, like alcohol,” Mark explained. “It was full of medicinal properties that cured people from Covid. If anyone in the community had it, they’d just give them this shot in the morning, and it would really sort them out. They gave me a whole bottle to take home with me.”

This kind of intuition – born from being immersed in the natural world – is difficult to communicate to a society accustomed to concrete jungles, artificial light, and the persistent trawl of the 9-5 all year round. We couldn’t be further from the rhythms of the rainforest if we tried. The way Mark attempted to explain this intuition was by likening it to an interrupting voice that frequents your mind. “That gut feeling – when you enter a room and it doesn’t feel right, or that you should go and do a specific thing that day – theirs is heightened and tuned to a tee. They have a connection to nature that we wouldn’t even comprehend.” Even the way we use the word ‘nature’ would seem foreign to them. “We would go out to the park and say we’re ‘going into nature,’” Mark elaborated. “That thought – ‘going into nature’ – seems absurd to them, because they don’t see themselves as separate from it, so much so that the word doesn’t actually exist in their vocabulary.” They can’t take themselves into nature, because they are nature – and, on a deeper level, spiritually interconnected with it.

“It’s really hard for us to get a grasp on how this works,” Mark said, speaking about this spiritual connection to the Earth. To them, the spiritual world is no less real than the material world. Often, there’s no distinction between the two. “They’ll talk about spirits in the jungle as casually as someone entering a room. There was no separation in terms of the language used to speak about what we would see as real and not real.” Acknowledging the existence of the spiritual world is as normal as acknowledging the existence of trees in the Amazon – and the idea that reality is tied to vision would be, to them, only recognising one side of the coin.

Manari Ushigua, the spiritual leader – or shaman – of the Sápara nationality, believes that the most important things in life are directly connected to the spiritual world, and that the knowledge we receive from this world teaches us how to live in the material one. The gateway for learning these things is our nightly dreams. Whilst not all nationalities in the Amazon place as much emphasis on the ‘dream world’ – or Makihaunu – the Sápara people believe that their dreams help guide their lives and connect them to the forest. When they enter Makihaunu, their spirit can communicate with the spirits of trees, animals, and those who have passed away. Nighttime is seen as an educational time when knowledge is acquired and absorbed. “So many things happened that I couldn’t explain,” Mark reflected. “On one expedition the Sápara knew we would turn up that day, despite no prior communication. Manari had dreamt of two guys and a photographer arriving the night before.”

Today, their culture is on the brink of disappearing. Once a society of 200,000 people, there are now fewer than 600 Sápara left between Ecuador and Peru, and less than five still speak their native tongue. Manari tries to raise funds for the Sápara by teaching their understanding of dreams to others around the world through his online platform, Dream World. He has a significant social media following and has taught his beliefs to many celebrities – including Leonardo DiCaprio, who went to the rainforest to learn more about the different levels within a dream a year before Inception came out. Depending on your experience, you can navigate the dream world on different levels – similar to the lucid dreams depicted in Christopher Nolan’s film.

“It transforms you into a completely different world,” Mark reflected. “You’re thinking, does this even exist? Is this real? We live in a Western society that doesn’t believe in any of this. We don’t even sit in a circle and talk about our thoughts anymore, whereas they all sit around the campfire every morning and talk about their dreams from the previous night.” Before the sun comes up, they work on interpreting their dreams together over guayusa – a tea leaf rich in antioxidants and caffeine. It’s also a time for sharing wider thoughts or concerns – whether they want to marry a woman from another community, their plans for the day, and whether they should reconsider any of them based on the previous night’s dreams. Interpreting these symbolic nightly narratives is so fundamental that if you don’t remember your dreams, you’re considered unwell. “I’d wake up in the morning and not remember any of mine,” Mark laughed. “I’d just be like, ‘sorry guys, I don’t know what to say.’”

Whilst guayusa ceremonies are seen as a time to discuss and interpret dreams, ayahuasca ceremonies are used to connect directly with the spiritual world. They involve consuming a reddish-brown psychedelic brew, traditionally made by boiling the woody stems of the Banisteriopsis caapi vine with the leaves of the Psychotria viridis shrub. The latter contains the naturally occurring chemical DMT, which is combined with the former to prevent the compound’s rapid breakdown. We all have DMT in our bodies at low levels, and it’s hypothesised to be responsible for the ‘life flashing before your eyes’ sensation when you pass away, following a surge of the chemical being released. When consumed by thirteen healthy volunteers in a recent study, researchers observed an immediate drop in alpha waves in the brain – similar to what occurs when we open our eyes – while the participants’ eyes were closed. These patterns suggested that people were engaging with a vivid space quite similar to dreaming, with delta and theta waves also emerging – typically associated with the dream state.

“We’d call it a drug,” Mark explained, “but I’d be hesitant to call it that. In my opinion, it’s a medicine.” Ayahuasca is reserved for therapeutic purposes or ceremonial rituals, where Indigenous people seek wisdom from the spirits of the forest. These ceremonies are typically performed in darkness and grounded by Icaros – healing songs used in rituals involving plant-based medicines. These songs may come to a shaman during a ceremony or be passed down through previous lineages of healers, and are used to induce a profound state of healing, awareness, or awe.

“What makes ayahuasca feel more like a medicine than a drug is the way it’s approached,” Mark continued. “It’s taken with intention, under ritual and purpose, guided by a shaman. It’s not recreational, it’s reflective. People don’t take ayahuasca to disconnect, but to confront something or seek guidance from within.”

During his time with various nationalities in the Amazon rainforest, different shamans told stories of the many circumstances in which they’ve used ayahuasca for the benefit of their community. One example involved a baby who was unwell, and no one could determine the underlying issue. The shaman took ayahuasca and experienced a dream-like vision of a dark cloud of energy over the infant’s throat area, which led them to investigate and treat the illness. Other accounts described ayahuasca being used to uncover the culprit behind acts against the community, such as theft or murder. The shamans would induce this dream-like state to – depending on your beliefs and interpretation – either gain guidance from the spirit world or tap into a subconscious part of the brain adept at problem-solving.

“Everybody has their own unique experience,” said Mark, reflecting on his participation in various ayahuasca ceremonies. He explained that while you can set intentions as you drink the medicine, Aya – the spiritual force associated with these rituals – may bring out what you might not necessarily want to see. It’s a bit like shadow work – exploring the unconscious aspects of our personality we pretend to disown but are still influenced by.

“For me, the first time I had ayahuasca I just felt more connected to the elements around me,” Mark recalled. “Other times I’d get rapidly changing images that at first appeared random, but later the puzzle pieces came together to form a eureka moment. On some occasions, I’d be transported to a library that I can only describe as containing all the information about the universe. But my attention could only take me to the glass – I couldn’t enter. In the physical world, I’d get distracted by other sounds, and the vision would disappear. Mastering meditation is the only way to maintain this focus. Although I do meditate regularly, I still found it hard to keep up – I just wanted to write down everything I saw in case I forgot it.”

“It’s been a massive culture shock for me, coming back and trying to explain the world over there,” Mark confessed. “How do I even put into words what I’ve done in the past seven years? Living in one of the world’s most dangerous cities made me realise how incredibly fortunate we are to call Jersey home, and witnessing the fading of Indigenous cultures made me think about the lost heritage of where I come from. How long ago were we all speaking Jèrriais? Now it’s on the brink of becoming a dead language.”

It spurred him to shine a light closer to home, preserving cultural heritage and highlighting the pitfalls in our efforts to care for the natural world. “What good is buying local when UK livestock is fed with over three million tonnes of South American soy every year?” he asks. What we consume mentally is equally as harmful, our minds churned by doomscrolling and dopamine hits. “It isn’t how I want the next generation to grow up,” he expressed. “Where’s the educational, motivational and inspirational content? Where’s the understanding of our planet’s natural rhythms?”

Spending time connecting with the lifestyle in the Amazon – moving in tandem with the Earth’s cycles, living without distractions and embracing the circadian rhythms we’ve evolved to suit – alleviated the pressures our way of life brings. “It’s such a gem that they have,” Mark said, reminiscing on his time in the rainforest. “The sun goes down, the insects come out to play, and you just hear this whole chorus ringing in the forest. Going to bed like that, with no streetlights, no traffic noise, nothing – you find yourself sinking into a deep sleep.”