The Gospel According to Iboga

While the West holds its ceremonies in PowerPoints,
and titrates trauma like a spreadsheet balancing the soul,
there are still those who remember—

not from books,
but from bone.

Asha Caravelli is not the psychedelic circus.
She is not the TED Talk trip report,
not the neon-lit ego death sold for $999 with a weekend certification.

No.

She is older than the algorithms.
Wiser than the wellness branding.
A living prayer whispered across lifetimes.

For over 14 years, she has sat at the feet of Iboga—
not as a technician,
but as a servant.
Not as a biohacker,
but as a torchbearer.

In a lineage where silence is sacred and ceremony is not content,
Asha holds space like the earth holds grief:
with gravity, stillness, and infinite patience.

She is a Life, Death and Transition Doula—
formally trained, yes,
but forged by fire—
the kind of fire that only the liminal brings.

She doesn’t guide you to “optimize” yourself—
She walks you to the edge
where you must lay your false self down
and greet the holy terror of who you really are.

Daughter of Ross and Paula.
Mother to Delani and Roco.
Grandmother to Leon Emiliano.

This is not a résumé.
This is a lineage of Love.

And while the psychedelic renaissance obsesses over protocols,
Asha cooks.
She listens.
She prays with her hands in the soil
and heals not through dogma,
but through dinner.

Because the most sacred thing
is not found in a quantified molecule.
It’s in the way she prepares fresh food with Love—
like a Eucharist only the initiated can taste.

So, if you came for dopamine,
keep scrolling.
If you came for Truth,
stay seated.

Because what Asha carries cannot be tweeted,
cannot be taught in a three-day course—
It can only be transmitted
from the heart of someone
who has walked through the fire
and come back with silence.
https://www.awakeninginthedream.com/staff