The Return of the Mothers – original version

Sanne Burger

25 November 2018

Prologue – The aliens

November 2018
Pretty much exactly 2 years ago I did an ayahuasca ceremony in Peru which changed my view on reality forever. A dear friend and writer helped me edit the article I wrote. ‘If you don’t want to be considered mad, leave out the aliens’, he said. So I did.
Here’s the edited article:
Now two years have passed and I’ve decided I want to leave the aliens in! Consider me mad, I don’t care. The story was incomplete.
Over the past two years the reality of extraterrestrial life has become more and more evident to me. In such a vast universe, how can there not be? It’s such a taboo, but without understanding we are part of a universal network with many, many life forms, on many different planets, we will never understand our origin, destiny, power and purpose.
What I didn’t know then, but what I know now, is that there are many benign, loving, wise life forms out there – and on the face of the earth as well – who are constantly supporting and helping us. The fear and ridicule that immediately arises in many people when they are faced with stories about extraterrestrial life is a mind block. You have been conditioned to deny life outside of this planet.
Consider it. It might be true. We live in a time where humanity is waking up to its true origin after many, many centuries of amnesia. I hope this article will contribute to this awakening.
What you are about to read describes my first conscious understanding of extraterrestrial life and its implications for me as an individual, for humanity as a whole and for our planet. I will write more about what happened afterwards in new articles to come.

The Return of the Mothers – original (unedited) version

November 2016
She looked like a female version of Yoda, old and wrinkled. She sat cross legged on a blanket, her back upright and fierce. In her ancient face I could see both the grief of generations and the playfulness of a little girl. She was absently eating sunflower seeds, spitting out the husks on the floor, not in the least bothered by what was coming. I was nervous and she felt it. She looked at me and smiled.
‘You have nothing to fear’, she said in Spanish. ‘The Mother will never show you more than you can handle. You are strong.’


I had done about 10 ayahuasca ceremonies before, enough to endow me with a deep awe for the mysterious powers of this sacred medicine. Most ‘curanderas’ (healers) call the ayahuasca spirit ‘The Mother’. From the very first time I did ayahuasca it made total sense to me. There was something distinctly motherly about her undeniable power, her overwhelming presence, her boundless love and her uncompromising rigor. This was my first ceremony with a female curandera, Manuela. Somehow it felt different… more powerful and yet safer. I knew she looked straight through me and I didn’t mind. In fact I enjoyed the feeling of being seen and understood by her on such a deep level.


Without further ado she handed me a small clay cup with the dark liquid.
‘Kausepa!’, she said. ‘To life!’
I cringed. Nothing tastes more foul than ayahuasca. Drinking it craves a basic attitude of courage and determination to begin with. But after that you can relax. Drinking the medicine opens the portals to other realms, to the mysteries that are usually hidden behind the veils. There’s nothing else you have to do but surrender to the forces that will surge through you. And purge, but also that happens by itself. Once you’ve drunk there’s no turning back.


I drank the thick liquid and handed the empty cup back to Manuela. She chuckled at my grimaced face while I sank back into my cushions, relieved that it was done. I closed my eyes and meditated, waiting for the medicine to come on. Almost straight away I felt a deep relaxation come over me. This was usually how the Mother introduced herself: she would embrace me, cradle me, lull me into a state of surrender. I was often fooled into believing that this was it: a few hours of blissful relaxation, as if my work was done, nothing to go through, nothing new to be revealed anymore. Oh, how wrong I was, time and time again.

The underworlds

This time the visuals came up very rapid and strong. They were extremely disturbing: demonic faces, claws and reptilian bodies that seemed to attack me, trying to scare me, moving very fast, almost too fast for me to see them clearly. It felt as if part of my consciousness was moving through different layers of hell, childhood nightmares, while another part was present and still, meditating, observing it all. I wasn’t scared, as I knew what to do. I kept saying: ‘No, thank you. Go away.’ Every time I spoke these words the particular horrible image would disappear, only to be replaced by something more horrible. It was hard not to get carried away by the rapidly changing visions of monsters, bleeding children, torture, dying women, battle fields and war zones. Every possible scenery of suffering tried to overtake my consciousness, but I kept saying: ‘No, thank you. Go away.’ I knew these visions were real, but they were of no use. They were the realms I had to travel through in order to reach the Mother. It was hard work, and I’m sure it was hard work for her too. It felt as if we both were travelling vast distances at high speed in order to finally meet each other.

Purging from both ends

My body was going through fits of nausea, but I had yet to vomit. The toilet was outside and at a certain point I had to hurry out in order to not shit in my pants. It’s said that purging from the mouth releases conscious trauma, while purging from the butt releases unconscious trauma, sometimes from several generations earlier. I had to purge from both ends, so I got up and somehow managed to move through the intense visions of demons, outside the door and eventually to the toilet. There I sat, bent over, embracing a bucket with both arms, violently vomiting and having diarrhea at the same time. It made me laugh and cry simultaneously.
‘Why am I doing this again?’, I said out loud, knowing the answer.
It was worth every bit, because I was going to meet the Mother.

The real work

After the purge I crawled back to my place, where the violent visions finally subsided. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you’, I sighed. It was such a relief. I was maybe 2 hours into the journey and there she was. I felt the Mother’s presence as distinct as if she was a real person sitting next to me. I knew the real work was to begin now.

The camps

Immediately a powerful presence entered my consciousness. It was my father.
‘No, please’, was my first reaction. ‘Not my father. Not again.’
But I knew there was no way of negotiating with Mother Ayahuasca. She made the decisions here. She knew what I had to work on. I didn’t like seeing my father. His presence felt urgent and dark, as always.
‘You have to see this’, he said, and visions started to emerge.
‘You have to know what happened to me, so you understand what happened to you. You have to forgive me!’
I resented his pushy energy.
‘I don’t have to do anything!’, I replied, but there was no way of stopping this.
I knew where he brought me. I was in the camps. My father spent 4 years of his early childhood in several concentration camps in Indonesia, under the Japanese occupation during World War II. They were women camps: only women and children. I saw the desolate sites, the barracks, the sand, the dust… I could feel the intense heat, smell the stink. I saw emaciated women moving slowly, without purpose, their hair fallen out, their faces marked by and unbearable grief. Tears welled up in me, sensing how they suffered.


zonder boeken naar bed
Then I was forced to zoom in. What I saw shook me to the bone. Everything I had seen before I had known, from books and testimonies, but this was worse. It was as if I could see different layers of reality at the same time. I saw Japanese soldiers raping children, raping my father… They were beaten and forcefully taken. That in itself made me cry with horror and sadness, but at the same time I was shown what was happening on another level, the level of the soul. Inside the bodies of the Japanese soldiers were alien creatures. They looked like reptilian creatures, forcing the human soldiers to perform acts they wouldn’t normally be able to do, as it was so against their nature. It was as if something else was controlling their bodies and minds. The children were in such pain and fear that they seemed to physically separate from their soul. As soon as that had happened the souls seemed to disappear. I couldn’t figure out where to. The alien forces would then overtake the body of the child, as if a car or a space suit had swapped owners.

It wasn’t me?

I was devastated. Alien life taking over human life?
‘Yes!’, my father urged again.
‘Yes, that’s exactly what happened during World War II, on a grand scale. And not only there! Do you understand now? I didn’t have a chance! My soul was taken from me when I was 5 years old, and I could never retrace it. And all the things I did to you and your sisters… Well, it wasn’t me, it was the alien race in me, trying to take your soul as well!’

Flood of memories

I was just in time to grab my bucket and vomit again, even more violently as before. A flood of memories came back from childhood. I relived the immense fear and dislike I felt for my father back then, for his coldness, his sarcasm, his condescending demeanor. And again, like so many times before, I remembered the devastating powerlessness when he abused me as a little girl. It had always felt to me as if my father wasn’t really there, as if there was something else in there, something cold and sinister. Now it made sense. There actually WAS something else in there.

Paradigm shift

This total paradigm shift knocked me out. I started crying, but at the same time I was grateful for this revelation, as I had always asked myself the question:
‘How? How can people do this to one another?’
Now I knew. They weren’t people. It was another species, occupying the human body, the human realm. I felt deeply lucky as well… lucky to somehow have escaped being overtaken myself, as I felt distinctly that it was still me, the real me in this body. I thanked the powers that helped me through the challenges in my life… My mother, my teachers, my children, my soulmates… and myself, somehow. I felt that I had been challenged several times in my life, being pushed to the limit, suffering so deeply that I was tempted to give up. But I had never given up, and I now realized that it was real: that one can truly give up one’s soul…


My father’s voice startled me again.
‘Now you know’, he said. ‘And now you have to forgive me!’
His presence annoyed me. I felt anger rising.
‘Enough!’ I said. ‘Stop telling me what to do. You lost that right long ago. Yes, I forgive you. I forgave you years ago. But now I also tell you: leave me alone! I don’t want to have anything to do with you anymore. I’m not responsible for you. You take care of yourself. I forgive you, but now leave.’
He struggled, trying to resist my strong intention. I asked the Mother for help. I felt how she started to pull energetic hooks out of my body, my mind, my heart. It hurt, my body writhed. Dark, strange sounds came out of my mouth. It was as if I finally was pulled away from the underworlds, from the realms where demons linger and my father too. It didn’t take long, thankfully. After a while I felt the work was done. I felt cleaner and clearer than I’d ever felt. My father was gone. Again I was overwhelmed with gratitude and I muttered ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you’ over and over again. At the same time I sent out a prayer for my father. ‘May he as well find peace.’

Joy and sadness

I rested for a while, reveling in how I felt. I owned my body, as if for the first time since I was born I truly and fully owned every little part of it. I felt so alive, so vibrant, fresh and clean, it was amazing. But then, from deep within, grief came up. It was a sadness so deep I could hardly breathe. It was simple: I missed my mother. I realized that I had missed my mother ever since the first time I was truly afraid of my father. The devastation of my mother’s apparent absence, not helping me, not protecting me, while my father was acting out his darkness, threw me back into a state of desperation I had suppressed since those early years. I started crying again, this time from such a deep, long hidden place that my sobs actually sounded like the cries of a little girl. In my altered state I still felt amazement about this fact.
‘Where were you, mother?’, I cried. ‘Why did you allow this to happen?’

The collective grief

Helena Arturaleza Schotman
As my vision opened up, I saw how millions of girls and women were abused, raped and tortured at that very moment, all over the world. What I had been through in my youth was nothing compared to this. I was grief stricken.
‘Where are you?’ I kept repeating, my sadness mounting. ‘Where are the mothers? Why do you allow these creatures to abuse us? Why don’t you come forward to save us?’
I felt so much grief that I almost drowned in it. I thought I couldn’t bear it anymore, it was too much. I actually longed to die. I just didn’t want to be here anymore, on this planet overtaken by aliens, crushing everything of value, once embodied by the human race. I curled up in fetal position, softly whining, like a dying cat, praying that somehow I could leave this forsaken place.


Suddenly I felt the presence of Manuela. I realized she sat in front of me, singing with a clear voice. It felt disrespectful not to get up, so I got up and positioned myself in front of her, cross legged like her, my back straight, my face wet with tears, surprised that I actually was capable of doing this. I opened my eyes for a moment and saw her. She sat there glowing, radiating a love that was so big it embraced every living creature on earth. I realized she knew. She knew everything that had happened in the history of mankind. She knew about the alien invasion, she knew about the mothers stepping back, she had seen and felt all the suffering of mankind. I felt deeply humbled and held by her presence. I instantly snapped out of my self-pity and listened intently. She had something important to say.


She spoke to me through her Icaros, her sacred songs, in a language I didn’t know. But it didn’t matter. I heard what she said crystal clear, without the intervention of words. She spoke straight to my heart.
‘Do you remember you chose to be born?’, she asked.
‘Yes’, I said telepathically.
‘Do you remember why you chose to be born?’, she continued.
I kept silent, as the memories flooded back. I remembered myself before I was born, feeling such a deep love for the people that were going to be my family in this lifetime, such love for mankind, that I asked to be born. I begged to be born, so I could help, knowing exactly what would happen to my family, being fully aware of what would happen to me as well, but determined to overcome it, one way or another.
‘Do you realize you chose this life?’ she insisted. ‘Do you see there is no one to blame?’
‘Yes’, I said, and felt a wave of approval coming my way.

But why?

‘So you ask where the mothers were when their daughters were raped, humiliated, abused and suppressed in the past few centuries’, she continued matter of factly.
‘Yes!’ I said. I really wanted to know.
‘They had to step back’, she said. ‘It had to do with the gravity of the situation. The only way to deal with it was by seemingly sacrificing their daughters. It is the hardest thing women ever have been forced to do in the history of mankind. Those creatures that you call aliens, came to earth with the intention to wipe out mankind. They wanted our bodies, but not our souls. They couldn’t care less about human values like love or compassion. They entered our realm and our bodies. They overtook our instincts and minds and forced us into horrible crimes against humanity, as for example raping our own children, inflicting pain to the degree where people actually no longer want to live, no longer want to sustain this human realm. That cold, sinister energy you encountered in your visions is real.

The time is now

The mothers saw this and realized that the only way to eventually heal this was to wait. In order for the human race not to be wiped out they had to temporarily give up their daughters, in order to pre-occupy the invaders. They never left though, but stayed in the background, energetically soothing, praying from a distance, waiting until the moment would be ripe for them to come back without the certainty of annihilation. That moment has come now. This is the generation where the alien race has become weak enough and the mothers have become strong enough for them to come back, reclaim their power and bring their daughters home. The mothers are coming back and they are stronger than ever.

Love is the greatest power

The time has come where the abuse of women and children will no longer be tolerated, where the power of love will disarm every other intent and where the souls that have been lost will be reclaimed. Not by force, as these alien species are used to, but by love. The power of love has become so underestimated throughout the ages that it has now become the biggest force of the human realm, and no one understands this better than the mothers.


You are a mother yourself, and you are a daughter’, Manuela continued through her song. ‘You have experienced how it feels to be abandoned by your mother, but you have also felt her love. You know how it feels to not be able to protect your own daughter, but you also know how deep in your heart you would do everything to protect and save her. You have been through the motions. Now you know how it feels to overcome a childhood of abuse and abandonment and not lose your soul. Now you know what it means to be a woman, a powerful woman, a mother and a daughter. You know which values you hold and how to protect them. There is no greater gift you can give to humanity, to the world, to your children and sisters, than this. You made it, as one of the many women who now reclaim their power and are changing the world. So be happy, get up and get to work. You did it!’


Manuela stopped singing and waited. I opened my eyes and they met hers. Her whole being was beaming. I saw the Mother, the Mother of all, the pure love and compassion for the human realm, this precious, beautiful species. She, at this moment, in this little body, embodied it all. I was in awe. I knew she knew, we shared everything I’d seen, everything she’d shown me. There were no words to describe my gratitude, so I said nothing. I looked at her, smiled and bowed my head in a gesture of deep respect. She smiled back, suddenly looking mischievous, as if we shared a funny secret, and quietly moved away, to the next person.

The power of myth

We can never know how real or complete the visions shown during an ayahuasca ceremony are. We simply lack the means to check that. To me the visions are myth: they hold the truth in a symbolic, archetypal way. I don’t know whether what I saw is the actual truth and I do realize I only saw it from a female perspective. But what I do know is that since that night my despair has left me. I know it will never come back, because I know why I am here now, and I know we will succeed. If I can do it, you can do it. And if we can do it, everybody can do it. This is the dawning of a new age and I feel honored to be a part of it. The mothers are saving the day. The time is now. We are back!
Sanne Burger
sanne after aya
Sanne is a writer, healer and teacher. She teaches Ancient Thai Massage, Qigong and Taotraining. Sanne lived in the Sacred Valley in Peru for 4 years. At the moment she lives and works in Holland. For more information about her work go to ‘Coaching’ and ‘Massage’.
Big thanks to Helena Arturaleza for her beautiful art.


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