A recent testimonial from a guest describing his profound changes.

A great read for those who are considering IBOGA but not quite sure as he openly shares his experience with you. Tavavo!

"This may have been the most profound, positive, and transformative experience of my life.

If I had to rank the most meaningful experiences I’ve ever had, this would likely be number one. And Ikara is an exponentially deeper and more therapeutic experience than the other options. But I will explain why later.

I didn’t come to iboga casually. I came because I was dealing with PTSD, anxiety, and depression that had slowly taken on a life of their own. What began as something manageable gradually intensified over time. My psychology was getting worse, not better. I would wake up in the middle of the night, convinced someone was breaking into my house, heart racing. Small stressors felt overwhelming. My nervous system never truly felt safe.

I was not in a good place when I found Ikara. I was scared that things were going to spiral further out of control. This wasn’t something I chose from a position of comfort. It was out of desperation. I knew I needed something that would fundamentally change the trajectory I was on.

Kuma called me and said, “We have a space that opened up. Do you want to come a month early?” I was like, “Yes!” I worried that waiting even a month would have made things worse. Strangely, I am smiling as I am writing this now.

I had worked with other therapies and psychedelics, including ayahuasca and ketamine, which only scratched the surface. I had known about ibogaine for over a decade through my background in the addiction field and had seen how it can interrupt addiction and save lives. But what I was dealing with wasn’t addiction. It was trauma, anxiety, and depression.

Through research, reflection, and conversations, I came to feel that iboga, not ibogaine, was the right medicine for me. There isn’t a large body of formal comparative research, but based on tradition, lived experience, and the current science currently available, iboga was far more suited to deep trauma, depression, and anxiety work.

With at least 12 alkaloids, Iboga lasts much longer than ibogaine. In herbology, it’s called the “entourage effect.” At Ikara, we worked with Iboga twice. My friend, two weeks prior, had only done ibogaine once, a single alkaloid, and spent twice as much. So by going with Ikara, I got an exponentially more effective experience.

So once I decided on iboga, I searched locally in Costa Rica. Several places felt corporate and procedural. What stood out about Ikara was that when I called, I spoke directly with the medicine man himself. The work felt relational and customized rather than standardized.

Kuma has fully devoted his life to this path. He lives this spirituality. This is not a business model for him. It’s a calling. It reminded me of me when I was working in mental health, which was that I worked my ass off to make sure that this person was going to live.

I later learned that before I even arrived, rituals and sacred rites were being done on my behalf, not just by Kuma, but also his wife, Manga, and his mentor, High Nima, in Gabon. I wasn’t aware of it until the shaman in Gabon asked how I was doing.

The experience itself lasted longer than I expected. Plus, there is time dilation. But long did not mean chaotic or terrifying. Years 
ago, I had a bad mushroom experience that was overwhelming and frightening. Iboga never felt unmanageable. It was grounded, contained, and precise.

Now, since doing iboga, I see PTSD everywhere.

Traumas are like pearls of a necklace.

Trauma feels like a string of pearls, each pearl representing a significant life event, all chained together in chronological order, each one influencing the next.

What does trauma feel like as it's lifted? My iboga experience felt like those pearls were being detached one by one, starting with the earliest and most foundational experiences. Each was examined gently and objectively. My memories appeared visually, often like sepia-toned photographs, usually cryptic. It wasn’t overwhelming. It was observational. It felt like my brain was rewiring as it moved through each one.

Fear did come up, especially around multiple deaths in my family, and I had experienced a deep fear of death I didn’t realize I was carrying. But iboga brings up fear softly. It invites you to look directly at what you’ve avoided without retraumatizing you.
What I realized is that I didn’t need more biohacks, therapists, supplements, gym work, or external optimization. I needed a spiritual awakening.

My entire life, I had suppressed suffering, which only made it worse. Suffering isn’t something you ignore. It must be handled. You have to confront it in a nuanced way and feel into it.

Many traditions, like Buddhism, teach that overcoming life’s suffering is the most important thing a person can do in their life. It’s done through discipline, mindfulness, and wisdom. Suffering is not something you are required to carry forever, but it requires awareness to dissolve it.

I was never able to effectively confront suffering on my own. Iboga allowed me to confront suffering directly. Once I did, I could see my ego clearly for the first time. As longstanding suffering dissolved, my identity reorganized around something steadier.

Most of the problems in the world are suffering, not pain. Pain is inevitable. Suffering is often our response to pain. For the first time in my life, I was able to release myself from the suffering.
Suffering in life is optional.

Two months later, I feel fantastic. Weeks after finishing, my PTSD symptoms were gone. My depression and anxiety lifted. I also feel physically healthier. It wasn’t just psychological. Something shifted systemically for me.

Kuma and his wife, Manga, are a strong, complementary team. She is deeply kind and generous. The other two staff members assisting had recovered from their own very severe child abuse. One of them arrived at iboga in extremely poor health, having been told by doctors that he was dying. Lyme disease was killing him.  His recovery story deeply impacted me. Seeing someone come back from that kind of state gave me confidence that profound change is possible.

Similarly, I was diagnosed with a fairly undetectable autoimmune disorder called CIRS, where, among other things, the blood-brain barrier begins to leak (when exposed to substances like high MMP9, C4A, TNF-Alpha, and low VIP), and I had lots of anxiety and insomnia as a result.  (Sorry, lots of info there.)

Many people who come through Ikara have experienced profound trauma, depression, and anxiety. Kuma and Manga are prepared for that and function like midwives during the experience. This is not something you do alone. Knowing someone truly has your back while you process deep emotions in a compressed period of time makes all the difference.
In my group of six, I likely had the most active PTSD symptoms going in. That’s okay. Some people carry more. And if that is you, well, you, my friend, are going to get so much more out of it!
What matters is having a steady, experienced team holding the container.

I live in the beautiful jungle of Costa Rica, yet Ikara is set in an incredibly beautiful place.

SOMETHING TO REMEMBER WHEN YOU GO: As you go through the iboga experience, you become deeply aware of the glorious world around you. The crickets, the frogs, the nocturnal sounds of the jungle, the air, the trees. The psychedelic creates a sort ASMR of the jungle whispering in your ears.  It’s divinity.
And while there, sober, there is still a profound reconnection you begin to feel between yourself and nature and the universe. You’ll remember this. Even now, as I hear it in my backyard, life feels more beautiful and blessed. There is a deeper sense of sacredness around than simply being alive on this thin blue skin of a rocky planet.

Today, Kuma, Manga, and I are friends. I ran into them in town today. I told him I owed him a review. We laughed. He asked how I was doing. I had lost weight. I looked and felt different. My energy was different. He could see that I was genuinely well.
I haven’t felt this good in a long time.  

Since doing this, I’ve reached out to friends who are suffering, many with anxiety and trauma, to tell them this exists. Not to sell anyone on it, but because I wish I had known sooner.

This is not a casual experience, and it is not for everyone. But if you feel called to do iboga, to put the past behind you, and to directly confront suffering, to confront depression, anxiety, PTSD, or illness, I cannot imagine a better place or guide."


Photo: Sunset over the Islands of Manuel Antonio as viewed from the deck at Ikara Retreat Center,