The Warrior's Breath: How Vipassana Meditation Prepares the Mind for Ayahuasca
- Mar 31
- 9 min read
Updated: Apr 3
After 17 years in the U.S. Army—including service in Psychological Operations (PSYOP)—I thought I understood discipline. I had been through selection, completed combat tours, and led missions in some of the most complex human terrain on earth. But nothing prepared me for the war that followed my service.
Nine years of severe PTSD, alcohol abuse, three suicide attempts, and three stays at the VA left me broken in ways I didn't think could be repaired. I cycled through counseling, medications like naltrexone, programs like AA, and found myself right back where I started. The very skills that made me effective in PSYOP—intense focus, emotional control, the ability to analyze and influence—had turned inward and become weapons against myself.
Then in 2024, I sat with Ayahuasca for the first time at JahSelva Lodge in Peru. That experience saved my life. I haven't touched alcohol since that first ceremony.
But I quickly discovered that Ayahuasca was not a magic pill. The medicine opened doors, but I needed tools to walk through them. That's when Natasha—my spiritual guide and now shaman—and Victor, my Master Kambo Practitioner, and Rama, my dear friend whom without his guidance and outreach while I was at my worst, introduced me to something unexpected: Vipassana meditation.
What Is Vipassana?
Vipassana means "to see things as they really are." It is one of India's most ancient meditation techniques, rediscovered 2,500 years ago and preserved in an unbroken lineage in Burma for over two millennia. Today, it is taught worldwide in the tradition of S.N. Goenka, a Burmese-Indian teacher who was authorized to teach by the renowned Sayagyi U Ba Khin.
But here's what you need to know: Vipassana is not a religion, a philosophy, or a belief system. As the introductory pamphlet states, it is a "simple, practical way to achieve real peace of mind and lead a happy, useful life." It is a technique—a tool—that can be applied by anyone, regardless of faith or background. Christians, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, and people of no religious tradition have all successfully practiced it.
The course I attended was at the Sukha Dhamma Vipassana Center (sukha.dhamma.org), located just outside of Dallas–Fort Worth. I went in with no expectations. I came out with something I didn't even know I was missing.
The Three Steps of Training
The Vipassana course is structured in three clear steps, designed to systematically train the mind.
Step 1: Moral Conduct (Sila)
During the course, students undertake five moral precepts:
To abstain from killing any being
To abstain from stealing
To abstain from all sexual activity
To abstain from telling lies
To abstain from all intoxicants
This simple code of moral conduct, along with maintaining Noble Silence (no talking, gesturing, or eye contact with other students), serves to calm the mind. As the pamphlet explains, without this foundation, the mind "would otherwise be too agitated to perform the task of self-observation."
Step 2: Concentration (Samadhi)
The second step is to develop a stable, focused mind by learning to fix one's attention on the natural reality of the breath—observing it as it enters and leaves the nostrils. This is called Anapana meditation.
No controlling. No forcing. Just observing.
By the fourth day, the mind is calmer and more focused, ready for the third step.
Step 3: Purification (Vipassana)
The third step is the practice of Vipassana itself: the observation of sensations throughout the body, the experiential understanding of their changing nature (anicca), and the development of a balanced mind by learning not to react to them.
As the pamphlet puts it: "One experiences the universal truths of impermanence, suffering and egolessness. This truth realization by direct experience is the process of purification."
The Problem: The Noise
During my first Ayahuasca ceremonies, I faced a challenge that I suspect many veterans will recognize: I could not turn off my thoughts.
Imagine this. You're sitting in ceremony. The medicine is working. You want to surrender, to connect, to receive whatever healing is being offered. But your mind has other plans.
One problem spirals into ten. You think about that thing that happened in Iraq, which leads to thinking about that relationship that fell apart, which leads to worrying about money, which leads to feeling like a failure, which leads to...
It's like falling into a deep hole. Or being pulled under by a wave in the ocean. You feel yourself sinking, but you can't stop it. And when you finally manage to calm down and focus, another thought hits and you're right back at the bottom, starting the cycle all over again.
I was constantly changing channels on a TV I couldn't turn off. I couldn't connect with the medicine because I couldn't get out of my own way.
The Solution: Anapana and the Breath
The Vipassana course begins with Anapana—observing the natural, unfiltered breath. You sit. You close your eyes. You observe the breath as it enters and leaves your nostrils. The coolness of the air coming in. The warmth of the air going out. That's it.
During my retreat, there were moments when I wanted to quit. The teachers say that Days 2 and 6 are often the hardest—when most people leave. But for me, Day 3 and Day 7 were the real tests. I had a mini panic attack—my chest felt heavy, my breath felt short. Everything in me wanted to walk out.
But I had a tool. I focused on my breathing. I felt the coolness of the air entering my nostril. I felt the sensation of the breath touching the inside of my nose. I felt the warm air leaving as I exhale.
Slowly, the panic subsided. I found a peace and calmness I hadn't felt before.
That's when I realized: this is a weapon. And I know how to use weapons.
The Military Mindset Meets Meditation
Let me be honest with you. When someone first told me about meditation, I rolled my eyes. I was a PSYOP officer. I did things. I accomplished missions. I didn't "sit with my feelings."
But here's what I learned: Vipassana is not passive. It is one of the hardest things I have ever done.
The 10-day retreat is challenging in ways that combat training isn't. There's no physical activity to burn off energy. No mission to focus on. No one telling you what to do. You just sit. For 10 days. For 10 to 12 hours a day. The daily schedule begins at 4:00 AM and ends at 9:30 PM.
I was bored. I was restless. I wanted to move, to talk, to do something.
But I also had something that helped me get through: my military training.
I reminded myself of what I had already survived. PSYOP Selection. Two combat tours. Two humanitarian missions in Latin America. If I could make it through those, I could make it through 10 days of sitting.
I told myself something I used to tell myself on missions: "I'll quit tomorrow." And every day, I said it again. Quitting wasn't an option.
When my mind wandered—and it did, constantly—I counted my blessings. I thought of my daughter, Aubrey. She saved my life. I thought of my father, my brother, my deceased mother and grandfather. I reflected on my past mistakes, but instead of using them as ammunition against myself, I used them as motivation to be better.
And when it got really tough, I went back to my breath.
The Shift: From Fighting Thoughts to Observing Them
Here's what I discovered. Vipassana does not turn off your thoughts.
I used to think the goal was to have a blank mind. It's not. The goal is to stop engaging with your thoughts.
Think of it like this: Your thoughts are like a river. Before Vipassana, I was constantly jumping into the river, getting swept away by every current. What Vipassana taught me was to sit on the bank. I can see the thoughts. I can acknowledge them. But I don't have to jump in.
When I moved from Anapana to actual Vipassana—scanning my body from head to toe, observing sensations without reacting—I started to feel something shift. I asked the assistant teacher if I was doing it correctly. She told me: have confidence in your work and progress.
Another student, someone who had completed three previous retreats, told me that most people don't feel sensations on their first course. I don't know if that's true. But I took it as a sign that I was on the right path.
The Gift of Silence
Noble Silence—no talking, no gesturing, no eye contact with other students for the full 10 days—is a core part of the course. I thought this would be the hardest part. I'm someone who, as my friends will tell you, can "talk the paint off the walls." The idea of not talking for 10 days felt impossible.
But something unexpected happened.
As the days passed, the silence became easier. There were moments it was tough—times I wanted to scream or express my frustration at certain classmates. But I learned that this was part of my path: learning patience and empathy.
When the teacher finally lifted Noble Silence on the last day, I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to engage with anyone. I didn't even want my phone back. I waited until the last possible moment to collect it.
Now, weeks later, I find myself driving my car without music. I sit in silence and it doesn't feel empty—it feels full. I've learned that silence isn't the absence of something. It's the presence of something I didn't know I was missing.
How I'll Use These Techniques in Ayahuasca Ceremonies
I completed my Vipassana retreat recently, so I haven't yet sat with Ayahuasca since learning these techniques. But I am excited to.
Here's what I expect will be different:
First, I can keep my mind from racing. When a thought arises—whether positive or negative—I don't have to follow it. I can observe it, let it pass, and return to my breath.
Second, I can observe my visions objectively. Ayahuasca shows you what you're ready to see. What I learned in Vipassana is that I don't have to be emotionally swept away by what I see. I can observe it, learn from it, and let it go.
Third, I have a tool for the hard moments. When the medicine gets intense—and it will—I know what to do. I can focus on my breath. I can anchor myself to something real while the healing does its work.
Of course, Mother Ayahuasca always dictates how the ceremony goes. She will show you what she feels you are ready to see. But now, I have the tools to receive it.
A Technique for Everyone
One of the things I appreciate most about Vipassana is that it is nonsectarian. As the pamphlet states: "The malady is universal; therefore, the remedy must be universal. When we experience anger, this anger is not Christian anger or Hindu anger... Similarly, love and compassion are not the strict province of any community or creed; they are universal human qualities resulting from purity of mind."
This is a technique for warriors. For skeptics. For people who have tried everything else.
It has been successfully taught to prison inmates, police officers, school children, and people with disabilities. If it can work for them, it can work for you.
My Advice to Fellow Veterans
If you're a veteran reading this—especially if you're struggling with PTSD, addiction, or that feeling of being lost that I know so well—I want to tell you something.
I wish I had started this process first.
I spent nine years trying it the VA way. The counseling. The medications. The programs. I was on seven different pills at one point. I weighed 220 pounds. I tried to drink myself to death. I tried to end my life three times.
None of it worked.
What worked was sitting with Ayahuasca. What worked was learning to sit with myself for 10 days in silence. What worked was finding tools that actually addressed the root of the problem, not just the symptoms.
My problems haven't stopped. I still have bills. I still face struggles like everyone else. But I no longer crawl to the bottom of a bottle. I no longer want to fight the world. I can sleep at night. I can wake up and be productive.
I found who I was before I went to war.
Practical Information: Attending a Course
If you're interested in trying Vipassana, here's what you should know:
Duration: 10 days (arrival day + 10 full days + departure morning)
Cost: By donation only — no charge for food, accommodation, or teaching. Courses are funded by donations from past students.
Accommodations: Simple, shared rooms. Vegetarian meals provided.
Noble Silence: No talking, gesturing, or eye contact with other students for the full 10 days.
Daily Schedule: Wake-up at 4:00 AM, meditation from 4:30 AM to 9:30 PM, with breaks for meals and rest.
What to bring: Loose, modest clothing. No phone, books, writing materials, or electronics (all are collected upon arrival).
What to leave behind: Religious objects, rosaries, crystals, talismans, etc. No such items should be brought to the course. If brought inadvertently, they must be deposited with the management.
You can find a center and register at dhamma.org.
The Bottom Line
Vipassana and Ayahuasca are not the same thing. One is a 2,500-year-old meditation technique. The other is a sacred plant medicine. But they work together in a way that I didn't expect.
Ayahuasca opens the door. Vipassana teaches you how to walk through it.
If you're considering sitting with Ayahuasca—or if you already have and you're struggling with integration—I encourage you to explore Vipassana. It is not easy. It is not a quick fix. But it is a tool that can change your relationship with your own mind.
And for a warrior, there is no more important battle than that.
Major Mayoor Sharma is a retired U.S. Army Major with 17 years of service in Psychological Operations (PSYOP). He is a co-founder of the Warrior Path Project, a nonprofit supporting veterans through Ayahuasca retreats, community connection, and integration programs.
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