I would therefore like to conclude this chapter by saying that ayahuasca can make us pre-eminently aware of the extistence – as well as the radical alterity – of other ontological dispositions, in this case that of animism, in the way of a lively, indeed visceral experience, through which we can also become more familiar with it of course – with the provision that despite the unmistakably own agenda of the plant, the ritual context is crucial for the specific nature of that experience. In terms of the British philosopher Timothy Morton, we should welcome this remarkable non-human agent, this extremely strange strange stranger from the Amazon into our midst, and that is to say as she presents herself to us and tries to communicate with us. Medical and neurological research into the effects of ayahuasca on our mental and physical well-being is very important and should be welcomed, but really getting to know her is a completely different matter. It is being plunged – in an in-your-face manner – in the midst of the fathomless mystery of the cosmos, and nothing less. What ayahuasca truly is can only be experienced from the inside out by – indeed – drinking her and undergoing her glorious manifestation in ourselves, even though this is often in the form of pure terror. But there precisely is where we can learn the most of her. Just like all psycho-pharmaka, however, and philosophers of technology know that also writing and in fact all the technical media that we are permanently drugged by today, belong to those, ayahuasca is potentially both a medicine and a poison. She can do wonders but can also inflict serious damage in the wrong hands. Compared to the shamans and curanderos of the Amazon we are actually still infants in Western culture when it comes to dealing with powerful sacraments such as ayahuasca. But if we are receptive to her stern but cathartic didactics, then ayahuasca has an enormous healing and illuminating potential. Of that, I am holy convinced.