Katalina Aurora
@katalina-aurora
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17 Followers
In 2016, I embarked on a profound transformative journey. Ayahuasca & the whispers of ancient plant medicines found a way to align my soul’s path with my degree in Visual Arts.
What followed was 8 years of unraveling, deep soul alchemy, & a dance with the infinite.
Each step, a descent into the self; each awakening, a fragment of the divine.
Through art, I have transcribed this odyssey—the geometry of the unseen, the sacred patterns of creation, the whispers of the infinite, the language of the spirit, the pulse of transcendence.
I now open the doors to share this unfolding. A timeline of visions and revelations, where insight takes form and the boundaries of consciousness dissolve.
This is a gathering of kindred spirits: visionaries, mystics, seekers of expansion, & those attuned to the boundless potential of the soul.
The cosmic voyage continues, & you are welcome to walk beside me. Explore the portals I have already opened or simply join me here as I unveil the story of an ongoing Hero’s Journey. 0 reply
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The river winds, a serpent's path,
Through earth’s green skin, its ancient wrath.
An anaconda, water-born,
Where twists of life and death are sworn.
Its tail lies where the world is still,
Among the roots, the shadowed hill.
Its mighty coils, with liquid grace,
Become a head where waters race.
Scales of rapids, white and wild,
A flow of secrets, nature’s child.
Its undulating, mirrored form,
Both calm embrace and raging storm.
Shed skin, a veil the ages shed,
Time’s illusion, old made dead.
It slips from age, from dust and bone,
Rebirth, the river’s undertone.
A healer’s touch, a hunter’s strike,
Light and shadow, day and night.
The serpent—veil and truth entwined—
The pulse of life, the endless bind.
For in its coils the spirits weave,
A thread of dark, a dawn to cleave.
The river-serpent, mystic guide,
To worlds where seen and unseen glide. 0 reply
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Serpent Mother, keeper of the vine,
I, a heart wrapped in the thorns of fear,
Have walked the shadowed path of trembling,
Where scales and slithers bring the vertigo of old.
Yet in the jungle's dream, beneath the vine’s embrace,
Your radiant coils of green and gold arise—
Milky Way, you shimmer through the cosmos,
A winding river through the canopy of stars.
Eyes like embers, soft with ancient wisdom,
You guard the gates where heaven meets the earth,
Where the Huaorani whisper to the skies,
And roots hold secrets of eternal birth.
I feared your shape, the arching of your spine,
But here, within the gahpi-ghori glow,
Your colors pulse, a rainbow in the dark,
Shedding skin, the sacred art of letting go.
Endless motion, coil of time and change,
You guide me through the hushed, translucent veil—
A dance where I become the river stone,
The leaf, the dew, the serpent, and the trail. 0 reply
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Hello starbabies 💫
#cosmicmission1
For Aurora, the mission is a call to awaken, elevate, and transform human perception through visionary art. Her aim to illuminate hidden truths, reconnect people with the sacred. To activate the codes of remembrance. We are one.
Her superpowers are the ability to see across veils and translate emotion into symbol, symbol into story, and story into sensation. She moves fluidly through dimensions and timelines.
She embodies a unique blend of energies: as a dreamer, she traverses realms of myth and symbol; as a bridge-builder, she unites diverse disciplines and ideas; as a healer, she offers solace and transformation; and with a hint of the trickster, she challenges the status quo to break free from conventional narratives.
Happy to be in this journey with all of you ✨ 2 replies
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Rapé (pronounced ha-PEH), sacred dust of the ancestors, the whispering breath of the forest, is a fine, sacred powder prepared with deep respect by the hands of shamans—taitas—from the tobacco plant we call mapacho, the grandfather plant. But this is no tobacco of the cities, no poison wrapped in lies and smoke. This tobacco is pure, strong, noble. It is the grounding root of our ceremonies.
Into it, we sometimes blend other sacred plants—ashes of tree bark, leaves of medicine, prayers whispered into the wind.
When the rapé is ready, we send it through the breath, through the nose with a pipe carved of bone or bamboo. It may come from the hand of another, a trusted brother or sister, or through your own breath with the V-shaped kuripe. The moment it enters, the medicine pierces your thoughts like a jaguar in the dark. It stings. It cleans. It clears. Rapé is not here to entertain you. It brings you to the present, to your breath, to the rhythm of the earth. 1 reply
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In the Amazon’s breath, where secrets coil,
The great Anaconda weaves through soil and soul,
Its wisdom boundless, a shaman’s dream,
A serpent of light in the midnight stream.
I sit by the fire, beneath stars' embrace,
The maloca behind, a sacred space.
Above, the sky—an endless sprawl,
Below, the flames—a serpent’s call.
When I lie on the earth’s tender skin,
The Milky Way pours its luminescent hymn.
When I sit, the fire’s amber gaze
Becomes the portal, a serpentine maze.
Burnt logs twist with serpentine grace,
Scales of ember, a timeless face.
I stare, time spills, a molten flow,
Into the red where secrets glow.
Eyes lost in an orange sea,
Where millions of sparks dance and flee,
Until, from flame to star, I shift,
Into a cosmos where veils lift. 1 reply
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