Aaron Rodgers has never been afraid to challenge the league’s comfort zones. But when he returned from his now-infamous ayahuasca journey in 2022 and talked about it, he didn’t just raise eyebrows—he split the NFL world in two. Some called it bold. Others, delusional. The idea that a future Hall of Famer credited a mind-altering South American brew for his MVP seasons was too much for some in front offices, on sports talk panels, even in locker rooms.

Yet Rodgers never blinked. He called it “medicine.” Now, years later and wearing black and gold in Pittsburgh, he’s peeling back the curtain on that experience again—this time revealing a five-hour emotional spiral and issuing a powerful warning to anyone who thinks this is some wellness fad.

Michael Francis Srander, a platinum recording artist, a pitcher, and a revolutionary, raised a query on the hot seat,  “Can I ask you a phone-question? How was the ayahuasca?” casual yet loaded. Rodgers, finally signed with the Steelers after his prolonged off-season move, doesn’t flinch. “Yeah. Which time? Maybe the second,” he reflects, a wry smile hinting at depths explored.

“I’ve said and I’m not bragging about this, but I’ve said 13 times, every time it’s different. Every time is special. Sometimes it’s really, really hard, sometimes it’s really beautiful.” He leans into the wisdom gleaned from the ceremonial maloca: “There’s a saying in the community that the medicine gives you what you need.”

Sometimes, what you need isn’t a gentle nudge, but a seismic shift. Ayahuasca – the ‘Vine of the Soul’ from Quechua roots – isn’t a casual psychedelic trip. It’s a centuries-old sacred brew (Banisteriopsis caapi vine + Psychotria viridis leaves) demanding reverence. Its DMT-powered journey, guided by shamans’ icaros chants, can unlock profound healing or unleash terrifying storms. For Rodgers? It delivered both.

“Sometimes you need a kick in the a–. And you’re in the foetal position crying for five hours.” Five hours. Imagine the emotional equivalent of a double-overtime playoff grinder, battling internal voices whispering doubts louder than any hostile crowd. Yet, the Vine also brought ecstasy: “The last ceremony I did, I laughed for nine straight hours. Nine straight hours I laughed. One of the best nights of my life.”

This isn’t recreational exploration. Rodgers is adamant: “Obviously, I’ve never done it recreationally, never would, never would suggest that. It’s, uh, it’s, you know, it’s a big deal. So it needs to be approached with a lot of respect, and gratitude.” His warning is born of hard-won respect for ayahuasca’s power.

This potent ‘medicine’ demands preparation and expert guidance. Risks are real: nausea (‘purging’ is part of the cleansing), skyrocketing blood pressure, or psychological distress for the unprepared. It’s not Madden on easy mode; it’s life on legendary difficulty.

From inner peace to MVP: How the vine rewired Rodgers’ game

Why the tears? Why the laughter? Rodgers credits ayahuasca with rebuilding his core. It taught him “unconditional self-love,” silenced corrosive inner critics telling him “You’re not enough,” and reframed his fear of death into a peaceful “passage.” He describes ancestral connections – “a hundred different hands… blessing of love and forgiveness” – and calls the Vine a “grandmother spirit.” And crucially, he links this inner work directly to the outer dominance witnessed on the field.

Those back-to-back MVP seasons in 2020 (48 TDs, 5 INTs, 121.5 rating) and 2021? “It paved the way for me to have the best season of my career,” he states, seeing his peak performance as intertwined with his psychedelic healing. Think Michael Jordan’s legendary focus in ‘The Last Dance’, but directed inward: “The ceiling is the roof” becomes the soul’s potential unlocked.

Now, Pittsburgh is his next chapter. Fresh off a quiet symbolic marriage (as he exclaimed his passion for love on the hot seat “when you find the right one, no matter what difficulties you have to go through…you should do anything to make it work”) and signing a shrewd $13.65 M ‘prove-it’ deal with the Steelers, especially post the Jets slander, an aging Rodgers brings more than just a cannon arm (62,952 career yds, NFL-best 102.6 rating, insane 4.34:1 TD-INT ratio) and four MVP trophies.

He brings the hard-earned wisdom of the Vine. He’s an open advocate in a league often wary of such exploration, revealing “hundreds” of NFL players have reached out. The NFL confirms ayahuasca isn’t banned, seeing it as a sacred plant medicine, not a drug of abuse.

His journey mirrors his legendary career – from the agonizing draft day slide to #24, through the ‘Miracle in Motown’ Hail Marys, the defiant ‘I own you!’ moment, to overcoming a torn Achilles. It’s been about resilience, introspection, and finding an edge, whether dissecting defenses or his own psyche.

As his Netflix docuseries ‘Enigma’ (came back in Dec 17, ’24) promised to explore, Rodgers remains a complex figure: fiercely private yet publicly polarizing, a gridiron surgeon seeking spiritual surgery. The ayahuasca ceremonies weren’t escapes; they were intense training camps for the soul, forging the self-love and clarity he carries onto the field in Pittsburgh. The tears shed weren’t weakness; they were the grueling conditioning required for the next level of play, both in life and in the game he masters.

As any Steeler fan knows, true strength isn’t just about avoiding the hit; it’s about getting up, wiser and fiercer, after you’ve been leveled. Rodgers, armed with grandmother Ayahuasca’s lessons, is ready for the next snap.