Chapter 1: A Book, A Camera, and a Gut Feeling

It started with a book. The Cosmic Serpent by Jeremy Narby cracked something open in me—a hunger for truth that wasn’t academic, but spiritual. I had just finished my history degree and was asking bigger questions about reality, myth, and consciousness.

With my tax return, I bought a Sony HD tape recorder. I didn’t have a plan, just a feeling. I wanted to document something real. Something sacred. I didn’t know what I was chasing—only that it involved the Amazonian brew I kept hearing about: Ayahuasca.

That’s when Captain showed up.

Chapter 2: Meeting the Captain

Captain wasn’t a typical guide. He wasn’t even trying to be one. He was just… there. Wise in a way that didn’t announce itself. I told him I had a camera and a dream. I wanted to follow the medicine and see what stories emerged. “Mind if I stroll along?” I asked.

He said yes.

At first, my friends were hyped to come. We were all deep in debates about DMT, the pineal gland, and the third eye. But when the moment came, everyone bailed. All talk, no trek.

Except me. I packed my camera and put my trust in a stranger.

Chapter 3: Into the Canyon

We drove deep into Baja California, Mexico—through dust, silence, and raw land—until we reached Guadalupe Canyon. It felt like crossing a threshold into myth. That’s where I met Arturo, a Toltec shaman.

Arturo didn’t speak much. He didn’t have to. His presence said enough. That night, beneath a cathedral of stars and beside the crackle of fire, I drank ayahuasca for the first time.

Chapter 4: The Ceremony

What happened next is hard to translate into language. I was cracked open, rearranged, and shown things I’m still unpacking. Spirits. Ancestors. Symbols. Wounds. Echoes. At some point, I became both participant and observer—historian and healer.

The ghosts spoke—not in English, not in words—but in patterns, rhythms, memories, and vibrations. And they never really stopped.

Chapter 5: Returning With Fire

That night changed everything. The documentary never happened—at least not in the way I imagined. Instead, I began writing. Rapping. Processing. The stories didn’t want to be filmed. They wanted to be felt. Heard. Rhymed.

Circle of Ghosts is the result. It’s my field notes from the spirit world, remixed through hip hop, soul, and psychedelic experience. It’s about facing the ghosts we inherit, the ones we become, and the ones we learn to dance with.

Chapter 6: This Album is a Ritual

Every track is an offering. Every verse is a memory I couldn’t shake. This isn’t just about ayahuasca—it’s about trust, fear, isolation, awakening, and finding the courage to walk into the unknown alone.

It’s about listening when no one else can hear what you do.

It’s about telling your story—even if no one believes it—because the ghosts already know it.