Following the Rainbow Bridge of Sacred Medicine - From the Heart of the Amazon to the Forests of the Sunshine Coast

There comes a moment in every woman’s life when she must choose: to silence her soul for the sake of tradition, or to walk the Wild untamed path that calls from deep within. This is my story - of sacred remembrance, of exile and return, and of the vow I made to the Great Mother to restore Her voice within the temples of the Earth.

My relationship with Ayahuasca has never been casual, nor merely curious - it has been covenantal. She came to me as a living spirit when my soul was aching for truth, aching to remember. Where modern medicine failed to reach the roots of my suffering, Mama Jurema, the Queen of the Forest and Jungles, whispered my name through the leaves and summoned me home.

The Hummingbird & the Star-Shaped Vision

In my university years, while communing with cannabis, my earliest plant ally, I began receiving visions of the future. They arrived like shimmering dreams, carried on the wings of a luminous guide who visits me often: a hummingbird spirit, fluttering between worlds.

In one vision, she lifted me above a forest canopy and revealed a radiant, glass temple shaped like a star. Inside, people dressed in white danced and sang in joyful communion with a sacred plant medicine I had not yet met. It felt like a memory from the future - a glimpse into a destiny waiting patiently to unfold.

Another recurring dream showed me traveling by boat to a lush, emerald land surrounded by water. I didn’t know where it was, but I could feel its song in my bones. It was a place of healing. A place that would one day call me home.

Years later, when I fled the United States and crossed into Canada to seek refuge from persecution for my work with cannabis, a sacred medicine of the feminine, I boarded a ferry to the Sunshine Coast. As we sailed through the mist and salt, my heart stirred with recognition. This was the land from my vision. A knowing rooted itself within me: I had arrived at the place of my spiritual destiny.

The Temple Remembered — Past Life Echoes & the Return of the Priestess

During my university years, the veil began to lift. What I had once experienced as night terrors in childhood- sleep-waking in the dark, trembling and screaming - were revealed to me not as mere dreams, but as memories. My mother, who once soothed my cries, later confessed that she too came to believe these visions were glimpses from another life.

During my ceremonies with cannabis, I began to see it clearly: a lifetime in the shadows of the Dark Ages, where I walked as a priestess among a sacred circle of women. Together, we had built a temple high in the mountains, hidden in a forest sanctuary. We worked with the entheogenic plants wild-crafting their wisdom, crafting sacred infusions, and holding ceremony by moonlight. We were midwives of the spirit of Mother Earth, daughters of the green flame.

But in time, we were discovered. Branded as witches. Hunted.

The dreams returned again and again, more vivid each time - myself cloaked in the night, fleeing on horseback, separated from my sisters, aided by knights in a desperate escape. The darkness that hunted us felt alive, as if it was still searching for us - through our lifetimes.

These visions did not fade. They pressed inward, echoing through my body and soul, growing louder with each passing year. They were not memories alone - they were instructions, whispering me back to remembrance, back to the temple, back to the sacred vow.

The Cannabis Castle & an Artist’s Awakening

After graduating with a Fine Arts degree, I found myself sketching in a swank cannabis-themed café in Hollywood called the Galaxy Gallery. The air was thick with incense and revolution - an atmosphere that felt more like a people's uprising than a coffeehouse. It was there I met Todd McCormick, a passionate cannabis advocate who invited me to illustrate his upcoming book on medical cannabis.

On my first day, I followed him to his home and stepped into a vision that felt both surreal and sacred.

Todd lived in a sprawling castle tucked high in the Hollywood Hills, brimming with lush cannabis gardens. The plants were everywhere, climbing through the elevator shaft, adorning the halls, cascading from balconies, and filling the backyard with a living green sanctuary. To me, walking into this castle each day was like a past life memory of entering a Priestess Temple and infused me with nostalgia or what in Portuguese is known as "Saudade". The spirit of these plants called to my heart, speaking to my soul in ways I couldn’t yet explain.

I had already developed a reverent relationship with cannabis as a sacred teacher. It had helped lift the heavy cloak of depression passed down the maternal line of my ancestry and freed me from the grip of pharmaceutical antidepressants. But in that castle, my connection with the plant deepened. I felt her spirit waking something ancient within me.

I worked at the castle five days a week, drawing strain after strain, and learning to care for the plants like beloved kin. This wasn’t a job - it was a refuge. A sanctuary where plant medicine revealed herself not only as healing but as sacred art.

As I worked closely with Todd, his partner Peter McWilliams, and this wise, heart-opening plant ally, my dreams and visions intensified. The memories returned, more vivid than ever. I was once again fleeing the burning temple, cloaked in the night, pursued by hunters. The timelines began to blur. It felt as though the past was pressing itself into the present, whispering: It is happening again.

Then came our arrest.

Court proceedings dragged on for months before the charges against me were unexpectedly dropped. But the shadows lingered. I could feel the presence of undercover DEA agents watching me. My intuition flared like a firebird, and I trusted it. Sometimes, in bold defiance, I would approach them and say things like, “I know who you are. You’re disguise is not working.”

At night, the dreams would return. I saw myself and my sisters once again in ceremony with cannabis as our guide, and witch hunters closing in. Life became surreal, like history folding in on itself. The persecution of priestesses labelled as witches was no longer a haunting dream or echo from the past - it was real. And it stirred a fire in me from deep within. How could this type of thing still be happening? Is this still the Dark Ages or the 20th Century?

One evening, I received a call from my lawyer. He asked me to meet him at the Santa Monica Pier under cover of darkness. The moon hung low above the ocean as the famous Santa Monica Pier ferris wheel spun behind us in dizzying lights. There, in the sand, he delivered a warning I will never forget: the authorities planned to reinstate my charges.

Their strategy was cruelly familiar - coercion. They wanted to force me to testify against the very men I had come to respect and work beside - Todd and Peter. My lawyer, knowing I could never betray them, said quietly, off the record: You have ten days to Leave the country.

My heart shattered. Everything I knew was dissolving. But a deeper knowing rose within me - he was offering me a path not just to freedom, but to soul integrity. To flee was not an escape. It was a sacred act of preservation.

So I chose exile. I chose to protect the sanctity of my path. I chose to walk away, not in fear, but in devotion to the greater truth stirring in my spirit.

From Cannabis Refugee to Sovereign Priestess

I fled to Canada under threat of life imprisonment - my only “crime” was my involvement with a sacred medicine and my refusal to testify against two men with a legal medical cannabis garden in California. Had I been discovered and extradited back to the United States, I would have faced a fate of life imprisonment, which felt more fitting for a murderer than a medicine woman. So I slipped into anonymity, cloaking myself in new hair, a new name, and the ancient forests of the Sunshine Coast.

Once again, I was in hiding - not for violence, not for harm, but for my sacred devotion to the spirit of the plants I held so dear. After one year of being underground and hunted by bounty hunters, my sanctuary was pierced. The RCMP discovered me, and a 10-year legal battle with the Supreme Court of Canada began. My case became a symbol - featured across headlines and television screens - but beneath the media spectacle lay a deeper truth: this was not just a war on cannabis. It was a war on higher consciousness.

It was a war against Mother Earth and a war against remembering.

I’ve always believed that the persecution of plant spirit medicines is rooted in fear - fear of what happens when humans remember that the Divine lives within them. These sacred allies awaken power, intuition, unity. And if enough of us awaken? We might just rise together. We might just reject the reality being forced upon us and decide to co-create something new.

So I fought. Every single day. I fought to remain in a country where I could live free, rather than be extradited to the U.S. and sentenced to life for refusing to testify against two men who were growing cannabis legally under California law. But federal law supersedes state law in the U.S., and this loophole was being used to feed the prison system - one soul at a time. I knew I had to speak this truth aloud - as I was given a public platform to do so. And I did. It is too much to share the details of all that I spoke of to the media, at countless rallies, during magazine interviews, etc. (some links to these interviews follow this blog entry for those interested.) It was not my intention to become an activist, but it clearly was my destiny. And it took all the courage I could gather from within to speak about the War on Plant Medicines, the fact that most of the Federal Prison inmates in the US were Women, Our birth right as humans to commune with Plant Medicines, etc. The fear of persecution still lingering around me and in most women like a shadow stalking us from lifetime to lifetime.

Amidst this battle, I found refuge in the sacred once more. I founded the Sunshine Coast Goddess Spiral, where I began holding Women’s Plant Spirit Medicine Wheel of the Year Ceremonies. These circles were my salvation. In the chaos of legal warfare, I returned to the temple. I laid my bare feet on the Earth. I remembered who I truly was.

And then, in 2002, as I brought my son into this world, another birth took place through me.

I founded Urban Shaman Entheobotanicals - a revolutionary sanctuary and Vancouver’s very first entheogen shop. I rented a space inside the BC Marijuana Party Headquarters, which at the time was owned by Marc Emery. But this was more than a shop.

Urban Shaman was a living altar. A place of reverence and activism.

It offered sacred medicines from around the world, education on how to commune with them in safety and respect, harm reduction materials, a museum of entheobotanical artifacts, and a bookshelf filled with the wisdom of the plants. It was a sanctuary where the spirits of the medicines were honored, not criminalized.

It was my act of uprising. It was the planting of a sacred seed.

The Birth of Shakti Blissful Botanicals

In 2006, I opened the doors to Shakti Blissful Botanicals a plant spirit medicine temple disguised as an aphrodisiac cafe, devoted to the Divine Feminine and the sacred wisdom of the plants. Every item within its walls was handmade with prayer and intention: aphrodisiac herbal elixirs, ritual teas, anointing oils, herbal infused mocktails and ceremonial blends infused with the breath of Gaia herself.

But Shakti was never just a shop.

It was a sanctuary. A portal. A living altar to the feminine face of the Divine.

It became a community hub and a sacred space where women gathered to remember, to awaken, and to embody their magic.

Within its walls, we held:

• Women’s Plant Spirit Ceremonies

• Full Moon Ceremonies for the entire community

• Seasonal Rituals aligned with the Wheel of the Year

• Live Music that stirred the soul

• Belly Dance that awakened the Goddess within

• Spoken Word that gave voice to Mother Earth and the injustices of our world

  
  

Shakti blossomed into a sanctuary for the sacred arts - a vessel where beauty, spirit, and like-minded community could rise together. It was a temple where the Goddess was not just remembered, but embodied.

A place where the spirit of Mother Earth could sing through every sip, every scent, every sacred gathering.

When the Vine Arrived

One day, I received an unexpected email from a traveler I had once shared tea with at Urban Shaman. He asked if I would be willing to host a Brazilian man who carried a sacred vine medicine. I had never met this man before, so I prayed for guidance. The answer came swiftly, clearly - Yes.

So, I opened the space. We dressed in white. We gathered in silence and reverence.

When I drank the medicine, something ancient stirred. The hummingbird returned, fluttering in my third eye like a living current of light. I felt her sweep through my energy field with powerful force - cleansing me, clearing the cobwebs of time, awakening memories stored in my bones.

I knew instantly: This was the lineage I had seen in my visions. This was the path the hummingbird had shown me from above—the temple, the singing, the white-clad souls in communion.

The next morning, the Brazilian teacher approached me with solemn eyes.“A guide visited me last night,” he said. “He told me you and your partner are to build a church here in Vancouver and begin facilitating ceremonies.”

Although part of me hesitated—particularly around the Catholic influences woven into this lineage—I knew the call was true. So I surrendered. I followed him on tour across the U.S., studying, listening, learning.

And then, during one of the ceremonies, I heard it - A saiti.

A sacred song of the Yawanawá tribe. Its vibration moved through me like a river of stars, touching something so deep, so ancient within my soul that I wept. I knew in that moment, with every fiber of my being: I must find them.

The Call to the Amazon & a Sacred Promise

One year after the vine first found me, I traveled to the heart of the Brazilian Amazon with thirteen members of our plant spirit medicine church. We arrived under the cover of moonlight, the jungle humming with mystery and anticipation.

As we stepped off the boat, a radiant woman approached - her head crowned with feathers, her hands holding sacred smoke. She carried Sepa, an enchanted jungle resin known as the perfume of the forest, and began to smudge me with reverence.

At her side stood an interpreter, who turned to me and said, “This is Putanny Yawanawá. She is the chief’s wife, and she wishes to invite you to stay in their home during your time in the village.”

I stood there stunned, honored, and humbled. But what she said next sent shivers through my entire being.

“Putanny says… you are her daughter from another lifetime. She has seen this moment in her dreams and visions. She has been waiting a long time for your arrival.”

Tears welled in my eyes. In that instant, the longing I had carried - the soul-call that led me to the jungle - made so much sense. I fell into her arms, and we embraced like kin reunited across time. I felt it with every fiber of my being: I was home. And home, of all places, was the Amazonian jungle.

During my time in the village, Putanny and I shared long hours together - sometimes talking with interpreters, sometimes simply drawing symbols in the soil, communicating heart to heart. In our first Uni ceremony (the Yawanawá word for Ayahuasca), she helped me release a deep-seated trauma I had carried for lifetimes. The pain from the visions I had seen - the persecution, the fleeing from the temple - was finally given back to the Earth.

In the midst of my healing, an interpreter approached.“Putanny wants you to know,” she said gently,‘You are a Daughter of the Moon.’She has helped you release the pain of your past life. And now she wants you to see all the women who are here in spirit - celebrating your healing.”

I looked around, and through my third eye, I truly saw them - countless women in spirit, surrounding us, showering the space with love, support, and celebration.

The interpreter continued, “She says you are a medicine woman. You have returned in this life with a sacred mission: to help women heal.”

I had not told Putanny any of my story. She didn’t know I had been working with women’s herbal medicine or that I had a product line lovingly crafted in ceremony called Daughters of the Moon. And yet, she knew. She remembered. As if we had made this agreement long ago.

It was one of the most profound healings of my life, and remains one of my most cherished memories.

Before I left the village, Putanny took my hand and asked me to make her a promise: that one day, I would bring her to Canada to hold ceremonies for the women of our church.

That promise burns within me still. It is a sacred flame I carry in my heart - a vow I intend to fulfill.

When I returned from the Amazon, I continued to serve Ayahuasca within the Brazilian lineage I was apprenticed to. And always, in every ceremony, we sang the saitis of the Yawanawá. Their sacred songs - woven with healing frequencies and jungle soul - kept the spirit of the Yawanawá alive within our church.

They were with us in every sip. In every song. In every breath and at our current Women's Temple they are with us even stronger!

You Can Walk Away - Part One:

The Doctrine They Forgot, But We Remember

I returned to Vancouver and continued to run ceremonies within the Brazilian ayahuasca church I served but my soul resonated with and was devoted to the sacred work within the Brazilian Ayahuasca lineage I now served within my heart.

In the years that followed, there were moments of deep discord over matters of respect for the feminine, between myself and the leader of the Brazilian church. I carried questions he could not answer - or would not.

One day at a meeting he held with our church, I asked why we never spoke of the sacred mysteries of Mary Magdalene, or the ancient wisdom of Sophia. He pointed a finger at me and said sharply: “That is not part of our doctrine.”

But those names - Mary Magdalene. Sophia. They burned like holy fire in my heart.

To me, they were not footnotes in a forgotten gospel. They were faces of the Divine - the hidden feminine that lives behind the veils. I knew, deep in my bones, that they were part of the true doctrine - not the one written by the hands of men, but the one etched into the fabric of the cosmos. The eternal teachings encoded in the Akashic Records.

The living gospel sung by rivers and vines. Whispered by moonlight. Dreamed through the wombs of women.

This sacred doctrine is alive within the Ayahuasca brew herself—a living, breathing sacrament born of both divine feminine and divine masculine energies. A holy union. A mirror of the very structure of Creation.

Even in her earthly form, the medicine speaks the truth: I believe the roots of the Ayahuasca vine are feminine—dark, deep, coiled in the belly of Mother Earth. They hold and nourish the masculine vine, which reaches skyward toward the heavens like a serpent of light.

The leaves - whether Psychotria viridis or, in some traditions, the rootbark of Mimosa hostilis - carry the sacred vision. The feminine intelligence. The receptive, oracular energy that opens the veil between worlds.

This is the Doctrine I speak of. One that cannot be owned. Only remembered.

It lives in the spirit of the waters and the wild. In the chlorophyll of plants, the salt of the sea, the dreams of our newborn babies, and the lullabies of their mothers. In the breath of the forest. In the ancient womb of Mother Earth.

And it is awakening now in the hearts of women around the world. The dreamers. The priestesses. The midwives of a new paradigm. We are remembering. And in our remembering, we rise.

And so I began to walk differently in the church - With a deeper fire in my heart., one that burned brightly for the remembrance of and respect for the Divine Feminine.

You Can Walk Away Part Two:

Claiming the Cup — When Women Serve the Medicine

Before I share what unfolded, I want to speak from my heart.

I carry deep love and gratitude for the leader of this church, for his wife, and for their family. For a time, they were my spiritual kin. And in the higher realms - in the realms of Spirit - we are all One. There is no division. No exile. Only union.

I learned much under their guidance. The lineage we walked together was a powerful channel for the sacred medicine, and I will always be thankful for the songs we sang, the prayers we offered, the ceremonies we shared.

But for the first few years, because I was a woman, I was not permitted to serve the medicine. Though I was co-founder of our church and held years of ceremonial experience, the sacred act of placing the cup in another’s hands was reserved exclusively for the men. The honor of transmitting the sacrament - of anointing the soul through communion - was withheld from the women.

For three years I prayed, petitioned, and advocated for this to change. And with the support of devoted women in our community who raised their voices in sacred solidarity, the blessing eventually came. I was granted permission to serve the cup.

Still, something stirred in me. Something ancient. Something holy. Something passionate.

I began to see with new eyes: Any path that silences the feminine - whether in voice, in leadership, or in mystery - is a path that must be lovingly transformed.

We are living in the time of the Great Turning. And the sacred ways must evolve to meet the healing needs of Mother Earth - of Her sons and Her daughters both.

Over time, I began to witness something that pierced my heart. Many women who came to ceremony were carrying profound wounds - trauma from sexual violence, betrayal, ancestral pain. I noticed how the presence of men, even kind and well-meaning ones, made it difficult for some women to fully surrender. The nervous system cannot heal in a state of vigilance. And so, their trauma remained locked in the body.

The sacred container was not yet safe enough.

So I prayed. I pleaded. I petitioned the leadership for permission to create a sacred space for women only - a sanctuary where women could enter ceremony surrounded by sisters, by softness, by strength. A place where the vine could hold them, and no part of them had to hide.

It took five years. Five years of carrying this vision. Of holding the prayer in my womb. Of asking for a space where women could finally exhale. Finally unravel. Finally be free.

And then—at last—the blessing came.

I moved to the Sunshine Coast and founded a women’s church. We held our ceremonies in deep reverence. We trained guardians. We sang at the ocean’s edge. We wept. We prayed. We remembered. The healing that unfolded was nothing short of miraculous.

Lifetimes were cleared in a single night. Wombs were restored. Voices reclaimed. Ancestral cords illuminated and released.

But just as the roots were growing deep, the rug was pulled from beneath us.

After a year of holding ceremonies with women, the leader of the church came from Brazil to facilitate a gathering in Vancouver. I attended in good faith. After the ceremony, he pulled me aside and said: “Renee, the women’s church… it is not part of our doctrine.” He shook his finger at me like a priest casting judgment.

I looked at him, stunned. “What do you mean? The women are healing. We’ve trained dedicated guardians. There is so much joy. So much transformation.”

He simply repeated: “It is not part of our doctrine.” Then he turned and walked away, and that is the last time I have ever seen or spoken to him... after 12 years of dedicating my entire being to holding ceremonies within this Brazilian Ayahuasca lineage and holding space for the community of people we served all for free in devotion to the medicine. I was treated in a way that felt contradictory to the Doctrine - which was supposed to be a Doctrine of Love.

I was devastated.

A dear sister who had traveled to the Yawanawá village with me saw my face pale. She gently approached and said, “Are you okay? Something just told me I should serve you some hapé.” The medicine she offered was made by Putanny’s daughter. I nodded, and she served me.

As the sacred snuff entered my being, I felt Putanny’s presence arrive.

And then I heard her voice, clear as a river :“You can walk away.”

A wave of peace and liberation surged through my entire being. My heart lifted. My path crystallized. I knew what I had to do.

And I knew my spiritual mother, Putanny, would have done the same. She, too, had walked away from tradition to become the first woman in her tribe to be recognized as a shaman.

(To hear Putanny speak about her own journey of feminine liberation, scroll down to the video gallery in our website footer. Her wisdom is a gift to this world.)

As the ancients have always known: When a woman rises in her truth, the old systems begin to tremble.

In the months that followed, I reflected on it all. The more beauty and healing bloomed in our women’s church, the more tension began to rise within the external structure I once served. I had stepped into roles traditionally denied to women—and not everyone welcomed the change.

Still, I trusted the medicine. I trusted the Great Mother. I trusted the sacred covenant I had made to bring this work forth in service to the healing of the feminine.

And I want to say again, with love and truth in equal measure: I hold deep respect for the teacher of this lineage, for his wife, and their family. I do not share this part of my journey to shame them, but to illuminate the greater truth. I honor what I received, and I would not change a step of my path.

But I knew I could no longer stay in a structure that constrained my soul’s calling.

In this tradition, we were told not to reach out to those who left the church. They were considered “lost sheep”—to be prayed for, not pursued.

And so I walked away, knowing most would never speak to me again. I lost not only the church, but beloved friends - brothers and sisters I had prayed and sung with for years.

Still, I knew - from the sacred fire within my womb - I had to walk away.

Not in anger. But in devotion to all my soul stands for.

Because I knew—I know - that my birth mission is to create safe, sovereign spaces where women can heal. Where they can soften, surrender, and remember their angels and guides. Where they can be liberated from the traumas that bind them. Where they can rise into their power and together, co-create the New Earth—a world where the Divine Feminine and Divine Masculine are honored, balanced, and reborn in sacred union.

Where We Are Now: The Medicine, the Mission, and the Women's Temple

Today, in our Women’s Plant Spirit Medicine Ceremonies, we honor the sacred traditions that have shaped this path. We sing the Saitis of the Yawanawá, and the Pontos of the Umbanda tradition. We call upon the Orixás, the forest spirits, the moon, the jaguar, and the divine womb of Mother Earth. We weave in Feminine Mystery Teachings from ancient Goddess lineages, nearly forgotten, but now rising again through the voices and bodies of women everywhere.

This is my spiritual mission: To preserve and revive these sacred ways .To protect and revere the wise plant medicines of Mother Earth. And to hold sacred space for women to heal, awaken, and remember.

For many years, I believe - even before I birthed into this body, I have carried a vision deep in my soul. A vision of a sacred Women’s Plant Spirit Medicine Healing Sanctuary nestled in the forests of the Sunshine Coast. I have seen it in dreams, walked through it in visions, and felt its roots anchoring through time. A temple where women gather in reverence with the plants, singing their prayers beneath moonlight, surrounded by cedar and fern, water and wind.

This sanctuary is not just a dream - it is a seed long planted, now taking root. It is the heart of everything I have walked through, fought for, remembered, and reclaimed.

And at the core of this vision lives a sacred promise I made in the Amazon, to bring Putanny Yawanawá here, to this land, so she may hold ceremonies for the women of our temple. This is my deepest prayer and one of the greatest motivations behind creating this retreat space: to welcome her here, in fulfillment of that promise, and to share her radiant medicine with the women of this land.

Because I believe, just as the prophecies have spoken - “When women gather, the Earth will heal.”

I offer these ceremonies as a sanctuary for women to release trauma, reclaim power, and remember their sacred purpose. We are living in the time of the New Earth. And each woman holds a thread in her womb, a song in her heart and medicine in her hands.

Our time here is precious.

And I am here,

With all of my heart

To walk beside you.

-Written by Renee Boje with Love, Humility & Deep Gratitude for the Plant Spirit Medicine Path

Further Reading on My Cannabis Case

For those called to dive deeper into the story behind my time as a cannabis refugee and the decade-long legal battle that shaped my path, here are a few selected articles from trusted sources:

• “Renee Boje Finally Free in Canada” – Cannabis Culture A powerful piece covering the final resolution of my case, my return to Canada, and the immense journey that led to freedom.

• “US Cannabis Refugees Cross Border” – The Guardian This international article shines light on the broader movement of Americans fleeing U.S. persecution — and features my story prominently.

• “Renee Boje Ordered Out of Canada” – Cannabis Culture An in-depth look at the turning point when Canada’s Justice Minister ruled in favor of my extradition, and the wave of support that followed.

• “BC Supreme Court Orders Boje Surrendered for Extradition” – NORML A detailed summary of the Canadian legal proceedings and their implications for the international cannabis movement.

• “Boje (Reefer Refugee) Decision” – Indybay A grassroots reflection on the spiritual, political, and personal dimensions of my extradition fight.

  
  

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