Further Adventures of the Traveling Nuest'as

Postscript

7/20/2019

I am forever grateful to all of my teachers and mentors in the Andean/Inka traditions, who introduced me to their conceptual maps and healing practices. Their gifts through teachings and planting seeds of expanded consciousness during rites of passage and initiation ceremonies have been priceless.

It has been almost seven years since my last entry and my late husband Rick's great crossing ... hard to believe on so many levels. During that time, so much has shifted as lessons continue to abound. For one thing, I absolutely know that the veils between the seen and unseen worlds are extraordinarily thin, and the high-powered, kollana cekes that connected Rick and me in life are as strong since his great crossing. I also unequivocally know the affinities I held since childhood to stories about abandonment and separation have been healed. I know, too, that healing in present time affects not only the future, but the past, as well as for those we are in relationship ... Time isn't always linear ... "Seeds" planted and nurtured take however long they need to come into fruition. I have been spellbound (often with great amusement) to observe the pachakuti (or transition of epochs, as prophesied by Andean medicine people) underway as it continues to unfold.

I've said over the past two decades that leukemia has been my greatest teacher and task master, and that continues to hold true. It brought me into relationship with this exquisite tradition that has provided me with the tools, courage and context to live life fully and passionately. It pushed me off the proverbial cliff to heal at the deepest level. It provided the portal for me to create supportive and loving allyus in my life. And, while I have believed for many years now that my physical body has been cured of leukemia — I've been in remission since 2002 — it wasn't until last summer that I took the giant step to find out by stopping medication targeted for CML. Through periodic allopathic medical testing, my physical body continues to express no sign of the disease — my DNA has repaired itself.

Happily, I am beginning to hear Ausangate's call again ... which brings excitement and anticipation for what is next in my spiritual and consciousness evolution!

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Updated Afterword

8/19/2012

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Rick's Great Crossing
My partner and beloved husband Rick passed away three-days ago from leukemia. A disease that stalked his adopted mother and me, has now claimed his life just 13 months after being diagnosed.

Leading up to this moment, my benefactor mountain Ausangate called me to return to Peru while Rick and I had been traveling for a month in New Zealand during winter 2011. I knew from the moment I heard Ausangate's call in a dream that the next part of my healing journey involved my relationship with Rick. After ten years of working in the Andean medicine tradition and having thrown every other family member into a fire (or two), it was time to throw our relationship into the fire so that it could be transmuted and further evolve.

Upon arriving home, I received a correspondence from Jose Luis Herrera inviting me to participate in another expedition to Ausangate with altomesayoq medicine people. I left for Peru in late June. While away, Rick and I stayed in contact via email and phone conversations. It was an emotionally and energetically demanding trip for me, as I knew it would be. At that point, Rick and I had been together for 36 years. Both artists, fiercely independent, yet joined-at-the-hip in many ways, it was time for me to sort my part of our relationship out.

Once my allyu set off for Ausangate the trip became physically demanding for me — very uncharacteristic of my previous pilgrimages to Ausangate. Though I prepared myself for the trek to elevations exceeding 14,000 feet, the mountain literally brought me to my knees. In a weakened physical state from altitude and dehydration, I lost my balance on a narrow track on our return and rolled downhill until stopped by native brush. After that fall, I rode horseback the rest of the way.

The next morning, before catching my flight for home and feeling completely well, one of the medicine people who I've had the privilege to work with before gave me a coca leaf reading. Midway through the reading, Adrille asked how my husband was doing. After I said “great, I just talked to him last night,” he threw the leaves again. This time, he told me Rick was very ill and the nature of his illness stemmed from his left leg, between his ankle and his knee. I dismissed the warning as his having seen an old chain saw injury Rick sustained in the late 90s.

Ten hours later, Rick and our two Boxer pups met me at the Santa Barbara airport. As he gathered my bags, I noticed a slight limp that he told me was the result of a pulled muscle in his left leg from playing golf a few days earlier. The next morning his left leg was sore to the touch and by that evening his calf was also quite warm. The following day was Monday, so he made an appointment to see a doctor, as his was on vacation. The doctor prescribed an antibiotic and suggested going to the local hospital for an ultrasound to be sure the culprit was not a blood clot. To our relief, it wasn’t. That evening, out with friends for dinner, Rick’s leg was not only more inflamed, but had increased in diameter by half. Tuesday morning, we called his doctor’s office and was told they would call into the pharmacy for a stronger antibiotic.

By Wednesday, Rick could not stand on his left leg from the pain and the swelling was almost double in size. During a late afternoon phone conversation with a friend, I learned that her uncle had a similar experience in his upper arm that turned out to be a staph infection. That’s all I needed to hear. Rick put another call into his doctor’s office and we headed to the Emergency Room of our local hospital. After the emergency room doctor took his vitals and drew blood twice, it was confirmed that his white and red blood cell counts were almost non-existent. It was early evening. While Rick called his doctor to inform him that he was heading to the larger hospital in Santa Barbara, I put a call into my oncologist letting him know what was happening with Rick. Our plan was simple and straight forward. I was driving our two pups home and notifying friends to feed them in the morning, then returning to our small Valley hospital to pickup Rick and drive to Santa Barbara. Meanwhile, Rick was started intravenously on antibiotics.

When we arrived at the emergency entrance at Santa Barbara Cottage Hospital, the staff was waiting for us. Rick was immediately taken to the oncology ward. Because of the infection, it was decided that it needed to be controlled before surgery could occur to remove the staph, and perform a bone marrow biopsy to discover the underlying cause of his blood counts. Bag after bag of antibiotics were pumped into Rick's body. Once the staph infection was surgically cleaned out, the long incision in his calf needed to remain open to heal. More antibiotics were continually infused to minimize risk for further infection. After a week or more, a bone marrow biopsy was performed. Rick had the acute version of my leukemic condition (AML) — the exact same one his adopted mother had been treated for unsuccessfully.

Rick remained in the hospital for 6 weeks. Over the course of the ensuing 13-months, Rick was hospitalized five-times. One-month each time. He had a brief remission from December 2011 through February 2012, during which he arranged for us to head back to New Zealand for a month of what he loved to do most, fly fish. By the end of our trip it was clear that his remission was over. He courageously tried to get into a clinical trial through the Hutchinson Center in Seattle. But, when it was found that an experimental treatment to gain remission had not been successful so a bone marrow transplant was out of the question, he had had enough. On that same day — just one day before he was scheduled to be released from Cottage Hospital — Rick died in my arms within an hour after I arrived to spend the day together.

Rick lived the last year of his life with grace. He reached out and healed relationships that he knew needed to be. He died elegantly without drama or fanfare. Of the many gifts Rick gave me over the decades we were together, his last was certainly his greatest — to witness his luminous body release back to Spirit!

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Afterword

1/1/2010

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Rereading my 2002 journal, I am struck by how my journey continues to unfold. In the eight years since my first journey to Apu Ausangate, I have made two more pilgrimages to my benefactor mountain. I have also been part of expeditions to several other sacred and powerful mountains to receive initiation rites. Each experience has been profound and healing. Some of the “seeds” gifted to me during those ceremonies grow strong within me. Without doubt, I have neglected or devoured others.

Continuing the Tarot metaphor from my last entry, my journey has subsequently led me to Judgement where I made a conscious commitment to align my will, actions and heart to live life fully. The leukemia that was diagnosed in 1999 has been in remission for the past ten years, and for that I am grateful — both for the physical strength and well-being, and the profound teacher and task-master leukemia has been for me.

A cancer of the blood, leukemia has been a beacon calling my attention to the dis-ease that has flowed through my bloodlines — both maternal and paternal lineages. Mythically, it has provided a map to wholeness — for me personally and for a family I had no idea existed.

Last spring I received a letter from a private investigator who was looking for my brother and me regarding a small inheritance. I dismissed the first “calling,” which was received in the guise of a form letter. Thankfully, a second “calling” was sent, and I had the presence to respond. After several emails and phone conversations with the private investigator, my brother and I signed a contract. Unbeknownst to us, the financial inheritance was just the Universe’s “carrot” to get us to bite. The “real” reward has been the discovery of family my brother and I knew nothing about on our father’s side. We’ve discovered an aunt and uncles and cousins we never knew existed — some who lived less than 50 miles away from where we grew up as children and others who live in northern California. I was sent newspaper articles pertaining to the circumstances of our parents’ deaths — some details which my older brother remembers and some not. What’s more, my east- and west-coast cousins, who had never met or been in contact before my brother and I were “found,” have reached out to one another to create their own relationships.

Last fall my husband and I traveled to northern California to meet two first-cousins and their families. It was a spine-tingling experience to share stories, discover common family threads, and begin to unravel the knots of dysfunction that have stalked our family for generations. This paternal side of my family, previously hidden in shadow, has been brought into the light.

Individually and collectively, I am actively engaged in creating healing and wholeness that spans time — back into the past and forward into the future. Creating more conscious awareness of the affinities that organize my reality has become the principle theme of my life. My creative work as an artist has become richly fulfilling as I work to weave the underlying teachings of ayni. My work as a community activist and volunteer, too, is equally creative and fulfilling and is guided by these same maps.

For me, the purpose of life is to "return to ayni." Today, I see my journey has, at times, taken the scenic and sometimes precarious blue highways, and at other times the direct and indistinguishable interstates. It is a contemporary tapestry of many textures and hues, innovative yet grounded in the universality of Truth. Most importantly, my journey is a continuing process that nurtures me with a profound sense of awe, deep satisfaction, a more often quiet mind, and deep joy.

[NOTE: A few years ago, don Mariano Turpo, the Keeper of the Rainbow Lagoon, made his crossing back to Spirit at 100 years old. Don Manuel Q’espe made his final crossing at 99 years old — I was honored to be present at his final despacho ceremony in Cuzco before returning to his village in Q’ero. And, my beloved Don Mariano Apasa has made his crossing.]

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Two Months Later

8/22/2002

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A full moon shines brightly outside my bedroom window casting shadows under the big Valley oak tree and patio umbrella. Moments ago a sound, perhaps the house settling, wakened me. It is very early. Coming into consciousness I bring along a thread that still connects me to the dream-state I leave behind. Fascinating.

Yesterday I wrote about the sand painting created on the boulder along the Urubamba River on the last day at Machu Picchu. Still connected to that depiction of my archetypal journey, I now “see” it with new eyes.

A New Map
Using the Tarot as a metaphor: I came into this lifetime The Fool, pure and innocent without judgment or fear. Within 21 months my life was fast forwarded to Death/Rebirth, a part of my soul split away and hid in the dark recesses of the Lower World (Uhupacha) with the memory trapped in my unconscious mind. Unknowingly, while that event shattered my outward life, it also signaled the start of an initiation process and set the stage for my spiritual quest for wholeness.

Raised in the loving embrace of my aunt-mother and uncle-father, my childhood was influenced by personalities as different as night and day (Temperance). Uncertain of life’s rules, my soul-Self (panay) was held captive by The Devil, hidden in a subterranean lair built by unconscious fears. At sixteen, feeling a desperate need to leave home and search for something I could not articulate, I began my journey towards The Tower. Franconia College provided my liberation at seventeen. It was the radical change I yearned for, and that toppled the too narrow and restrictive consensual reality in which I had been raised. Art became my principal form of expression and the cloak under which I wrapped myself.

Over the next twenty-five years The Star provided a sometimes bright and at other time faint beacon that kept presenting opportunities to awaken to the illusion of separation — and remember that everything is connected: All is One. My relationship to Rick, which started at Franconia College, has challenged many of my deepest and strongest held beliefs and fears, and has provided countless opportunities to grow and evolve, as did my professional career in arts administration and community relations.

Meanwhile, The Moon provided its own cycles of illumination and darkness, including the ultimate threshold for fear — cancer. But, just as the moon wanes, it also waxes casting its light for me to see the path back to my quest. Instinctively knowing that mine is a spiritual path, I am committed to delving into the darkest reaches of my unconsciousness to discover and refine the beliefs that organize my reality; and, more than anything, even life, to become fully conscious.

Have I reached The Sun? Can I claim a reconciliation and rebirth of lightheartedness and, as the Q’ero would say, “To fully enjoy life?” To be absolutely honest, only for moments at a time. Still, I hold the vision of life beyond fear, consciousness beyond death. Each day I actively take baby steps to reconcile the separation inherent in dualistic thinking. I strive to remember wholeness so little by little I may embody the seven saiwas or organizing principles — cheka, kausay, kollary, munay, nüna, yüya and chullya — that are articulated in the exquisite cosmology of the Andean medicine tradition.

What I have come to know is that it is possible to live passionately without attachment to outcome. So, too, it is possible to be aware of the present moment so we may consciously choose to mediate thoughts and actions through an open and loving heart. I hold the vision of someday living unconditionally in every moment. But for now, I experience delight in recognizing when I do, even for just a brief moment.

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Last Day in Cuzco

6/28/2002

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I'm up early this morning as Suzi is rustling around in preparation for her very early flight to Lima. A long, hot shower revives me as I contemplate the day ahead — my last day in Cuzco before heading home.

At breakfast the conversations are mostly about heading home — the dominant themes include possible places in Cuzco to buy this or that for family and friends, anxieties about going back to work, the long trip home, and concern about what “old” lives will feel like. Afterwards, Jerry and I head to our favorite internet cafe. Still no emails from Rick. Though it’s early, I call home to hear Rick’s voice and tell him, “I love you.” It is wonderful to hear him say that he has been counting the days until I am home. Inspired, Jerry calls his partner, whom he wakes to say, “I love you.”

Closing Ceremony
Feeling elated, we hurry back to the hotel for the closing ceremony. Once everyone gathers, sacred space is opened in the lovely two-story indoor courtyard. Taking a seat between doña Bernadina and Jerry, we are invited to share what the trip meant to us.

I am the third to speak. As usual, I have a vague sense of what I want to say, but trust that Spirit will intervene and give me the words. I begin by acknowledging Alberto for his commitment to engaging us in this work, and the Four Winds staff, who organized this amazing expedition. Next, I acknowledge my fellow travelers. “Clearly, I did not make this journey on my energy alone,” I hear myself say, “the energy of our allyu pulled and pushed me up the mountains, as most certainly did Apu Ausangate.” Tears well up in my eyes when I tell them I now know the meaning and power of an allyu. Looking into my eyes, doña Bernadina reaches over and puts her hand on my arm and says, in Quechua, “Don’t be sad, life is to be fully enjoyed.” I return her gaze with a smile that I hope conveys my deep appreciation and feelings of gratitude. Acknowledging each of the Q’ero medicine people, I thank them for holding me in such beautiful sacred space and so generously sharing their knowledge. I conclude by publicly expressing my love and gratitude to Jerry for sharing with me the first part of this magical adventure.

Some sharing is poignant, some humorous. All of it is heartfelt. Even our guides have stories to tell. After all the sharing is done, Alberto announces that don Manuel, a ninety-six year old Q’ero elder and one of his teachers, will be joining us for a special blessing.

First, we receive blessings from each of the Q’ero shamans. There is a discernible shift in their energy today. Is it because this is their last opportunity to plant seeds of our “Becoming”? The first blessing is given by don Mariano. I smile inwardly as he thumps his mesa on top of my head and touches his mesa to my three energy centers and mesa — all the while whispering prayers. Looking into his eyes, unconditional love radiates out to me. Smiling back with eyes, lips and heart, I know I will miss being in his loving presence. Don Humberto’s blessing is accompanied by another thump on top of my head. Energy runs up and down my spine as he blesses my mesa. Smiling broadly, doña Berna blesses me while thumping the crown of my head again and again. Then she does the same to my heart center, belly, and mesa. We hug, rocking back and forth in each other’s arms. Peace and joy, I think to myself. Doña Bernadina is the next to thump my head all the while ringing her small, angelic sounding bell. My soul awakens to the sound, and as if in response she pulls me down towards her so she can blow a prayer into my crown. With another ring of her bell, she leans over my mesa and whispers a prayer. Looking into her eyes, I see eternity – timeless, spaceless and whole. With Francesco’s blessing I receive a medicine stone ( kuya) that he collected on Ausangate while gifting our kuya’s to a place of power (huaca) on the morning of our departure. He is such a sweet, strong and generous being.

In the Andes, there are two medicine paths, one becomes either a pampamesayoq or an altomesayoq. Each of the medicine people we have been traveling with — don Mariano Apasa, don Humberto and doña Bernadina, doña Berna, and Francesco — are pampamesayoq, which means they work primarily through Pachamama, the “feminine” earth energies.

Francesco and Prism after gifting her a kuya from Apu Ausangate

In contrast, don Manuel is an altomesayoq and works with the “masculine” mountain spirits or Apus. This is not to imply that the Apus and Pachamama are unavailable to both types of medicine person. They are, and during ceremonies prayers and offerings are always bestowed to each.

Before giving us his blessings, don Manuel shares through an interpreter, Four Rules of Engagement he has learned on his path to power.

“Be impersonal. Take no stance and hold no fixed position or role. Surrender to the process of life and free the tentacles of your egos.” If we do, he promises, "the Universe will conspire on our behalf."
“Hear the voice of stillness by quieting our internal chatter.” With a twinkle in his eye, he says this is especially hard for people coming from the United States.
“Practice sacred play by being your best and allowing every action to come from the place of innocence.” He tells us that "sacred actions are those that emerge spontaneously when we are present in the moment. Dialogue with everything around you — humans, plants, animals, rocks — everything!”
The last rule he emphasizes: “Play harder! Reinforce actions that are innocent and from your heart. The more you play, the more connected you are to the divine Spirit within you.”

Don Manuel reminds us that shamans walk in two worlds — the visible and invisible — and are guided by vision, inspiration and breath. At the start of the day, he counsels, we must always make time for stillness, meditation and gratitude to order our reality upstream — this brings us into coherence/balance ( ayni) so one-hundred percent of our life-force (kausay) is available and present to us. This daily practice of stillness and silence also gives us opportunities to: observe and make peace with our ego so we develop vision; express gratitude and engage our lives from the place of tukumunayniyoq — the all-encompassing power of unconditional love; and to develop a conscious dialogue with Spirit, the divine within us, and with our mesa through prayer.

Don Manuel Q'espe and Prism

When it is my turn to receive a blessing from don Manuel, I kneel before him. Looking into each other’s eyes, he smiles and breaks out in laughter. His eyes are playful and bright. The moment passes. Bowing my head, he, too, thumps it with his mesa and then blesses my mesa. Looking up, he smiles and lightly squeezes my shoulders. Kneeling beside him, Alberto gifts me a kernel of corn with instructions to “Go plant this corn and make it grow strong.”

Don Manuel blessing Alberto

Once the ceremony ends, the noise level rises as we begin the process of saying good-bye. Addresses are exchanged, photographs taken. I search out doña Berna to say a special “thank you.” More hugs. A bandana is returned that I lent one of my “sisters” whose face had become extremely sunburned on Ausangate.

(l to r) Francesco, doña Bernadina, don Mariano, don Humberto

Reaching out, doña Bernadina grabs for the purple western-style cloth with longing in her eyes. “Yes,” I nod with a smile, she may have it. Another hug.

Shopping
Jerry and I head off for one last quiet lunch together in Cuzco. Enroute, we return to the internet cafe to check email, and stop at an ATM machine so I can get enough soles for two lunches and dinner. Today, thankfully, there is no line. Mission accomplished, we head off to a favorite restaurant for Peruvian pizza and a cup of matte de coca.

My favorite pizza chef in Cuzco

Plaza de Armas

Fortified, we begin our afternoon quest for gifts. A confession: I am not a shopper. In fact, I really don’t like to shop, especially shopping-on-demand. We begin by looking for a small furry llama statue for Jerry’s aunt. Success. Next, an alpaca area rug and sweaters for Jerry’s partner and my husband Rick. Jerry successfully negotiates a very good price for a sweater and several loose-fitting pairs of pants at a market.

Less successfully, we go from store to store in search of gifts for my family — the “perfect” alpaca sweater and “gallery-quality” pottery reproductions in either the Mochika or Chenkay style for Rick; a yellow baby alpaca shawl for my mom; and a baby alpaca scarf for my brother. After several hours Jerry heads back to the hotel to keep a healing appointment with doña Bernadina and don Humberto, while I carry on my search alone.

Still unsuccessful and weary, I search for a boutique where Rick previously bought clothes in Cuzco. Eureka! Galerie Latina has transformed into a crafts and artifacts gallery with a smattering of clothes. Displayed on the walls are excellent reproductions of Chenkay ceramic statuary. I immediately find two Rick will love as well as a shadowbox wall sculpture that will look great in my art/healing studio. The latter depicts a shaman working on a client. The figures are all made of potato paste. I also find a small, sweet sounding brass bell to use like doña Bernadina during healing sessions. What’s more, the gallery will pack and ship the three sculptures to me in the United States!

As the setting sun casts a reddish glow in the sky, I work my way back to a specialty clothes shop on the Plaza de Armas where hours before I saw alpaca sweaters with contemporary designs. It may be because I am tired or that I have been in every high-end clothing store in Cuzco that sells alpaca, but I immediately spot a sweater I know will be perfect for Rick and a golden yellow shawl for my mom. A sales woman also pulls out a soft, beautifully woven baby alpaca scarf in blue-grey from a stack. Perfect for my brother. As the saleswoman wraps my purchases, another, with a small girl on her lap, runs my credit card through the machine. “Denied,” the woman tells me. “What!?!” I practically scream, “There must be some mistake. I just used the credit card at another store and had no problem!” I rummage through my daypack for the receipt from Galerie Latina to back up what I am saying. “Let me try again,” the woman sweetly offers. Again, my credit card is denied. Panicked, because I leave very early in the morning, I ask if they will hold my purchases while I go to an ATM machine for more cash. “Of course,” they reply almost in unison.

It seems hard to believe that just hours ago, I was feeling so peaceful and joyous, and now I am frantically running down the street to an ATM machine. Pulling out my credit card, I insert it in the slot, press the button for “English,” and request the maximum amount of soles. The machine makes whirring sounds as its gears go through their various motions. “Denied” flashes on a digital screen. “Are you kidding?” I hear myself scream aloud at the machine. The realization that I have only about $15 US worth of soles left, which needs to cover my tariff out of Peru, and no useable credit card hits — I am a poor person! Beside myself, I half-run back to the hotel.

I find Jerry and Joy in his room, as we had promised to do some energy work on her. Seeing the panic in my eyes and chaotic energy field surrounding me, all attention turns to working on me. After recounting what has taken place in the last thirty minutes, Jerry says, “No problem, afterwards we’ll stop by the internet cafe and you can call the credit card company, and if necessary use my card to make your purchases.” While grateful for his generous offer, I am still in denial that this is happening. Hugs all around.

Opening sacred space, I put everything out of my mind but my clear intent to assist with Joy’s healing process. Briefly she shares what is going on. Jerry and I scan her luminous energy field, picking up various “threads” of her story and tracking them to both their source and how they live within her. Untangling the threads, we describe what we are “seeing.” I share a personal related story that helps to open more space for Joy’s healing process. Beginning to understand how she has been complicit in allowing her energy to be drained by another, Jerry and I continue energetically working with her until she “sees” other possibilities within the framework of her dis-ease. Session complete, we close sacred space. Joy’s energetic release of laughter fills the room as we hug.

Since it is almost dinnertime, Jerry and I head to the internet cafe to place a call to my credit card company. The toll-free number rings and rings, but no one answers. Frustrated, I try again. Then, again. Feeling desperate and angry, I call home. No answer. I leave a message for Rick explaining my situation, which no doubt sounds frantic. Since the hour is growing late Jerry insists, again, on buying my purchases. “Send me a check when you get home,” he suggests as we leave the internet cafe. Why, I wonder, do I have such resistance to his generosity? What warped sense of independence does my ego possess that is making this more of a drama than is necessary? I know the answer in that instant. In fact, it hits me so suddenly that I stop walking and double over as if punched in the solar plexus.

It is connected to a story that has played out in countless ways, over many lifetimes, and continues to hold me in the grip of fear — abandonment. I have worked to heal this original wounding since before starting my shamanic apprenticeship. And, like all primal wounds it is squirrelly — each time it is activated my ego assumes a defensive stance and becomes inflexible and completely resolute in its need to be self-sufficient no matter the cost or outcome. In my very re-action to a perceived provocation I alone create the probability of abandonment: separation. For the first time, standing on the sidewalk of a narrow street in Cuzco, Peru, I clearly “see” how my ego is using the simple challenge of the credit card denial to act out and reinforce “the story of abandonment” to disempower me. Even Rick’s not being available to answer my phone call is conveniently thrown in by my ego to fuel my “story.”

Stepping back from the situation I tell Jerry, “I love Peru — what would be so bad getting “stuck” here for a few extra days as I get everything sorted out?” Then, I “cut” the luminous thread that connects this energy of abandonment to my heart (munay) energy center, and gratefully agree to let Jerry make my purchases.

We arrive at the clothing store just as the sales women are getting ready to close for the night. Silently I wonder whether they thought I would be back. Taunted by my ego, I hear myself asking the cashier to run my credit card one more time. “Rick could have received my message and been able to resolve the problem,” my ego taunts me as it tries again to undermine my “new” awareness. “OK,” they agree. Jerry laughs and pulls out his credit card as the woman apologetically says, “Denied.” Seconds after running Jerry’s card the sales woman announces, “Accepted!” We all start laughing. Without doubt, laughter is a truly marvelous way to release pent up negative and heavy energy (hucha). Again, I thank Jerry and promise to send a check when I arrive home. “No problem,” he tells me adding, “dinner’s on me.” We laugh.

Wasn’t it me who only hours ago said that I now knew the meaning and power of an allyu? I certainly spoke prematurely. “The Universe,” I tell Jerry as we walk to the restaurant, “is truly perfect in meting out lessons.” Wiracocha and Pachamama gave me my comeuppance to really understand the dynamic bi-directional energy exchange inherent in an allyu. What’s more, these animistic forces set things up so that I would have to finish this piece of personal work before I leave. “Just be sure to cut that thread, again!” Jerry teases.

Our Last Dinner in Cuzco
A block away from the alpaca boutique is a sophisticatedly urbane, two-story restaurant with a wall of glass facing onto the Plaza de Armas. It is here we are to meet our allyu sisters and brothers who are still in Cuzco for a final dinner. Joining us, too, are Francesco and don Martin, a round-faced sorcerer who lives outside town, and our guide Marco. Our party has reserved the entire downstairs, while the upstairs loft is filled with diners seated at small tables for two and four. Ours is a long banquet table, most likely made up of a number of smaller ones.

As menus are passed around, we are told, “Llama is very good — it tastes very much like veal.” I cast a sideways look at Jerry, seated several chairs down the table, who nods approval to go ahead and order whatever I want. When it is my turn, I order cream of asparagus soup, followed by a grilled medallion of llama with vegetables, and agua con gas. The llama is excellent — very rich and flavorful. Several bottles of a delicious red Chilean wine are passed around and toasts are made to the success of the trip, new friends, and an ever-expanding allyu. Afterwards several desserts are ordered and passed around the table — a rich chocolate cake, creme brulee, and several flavors of homemade gelato. Each looks wonderful, but full from dinner only the chocolate cake tempts me.

As dinner checks are handed around, Marco disappears for a few minutes returning with four young musicians who begin to play guitars, drum and pan pipes to Andean tunes and covers to American pop songs. The musical group is aptly called Apu. Soon we are all dancing. Gone is the fatigue that was universally acknowledged during dinner. Gone, too, are thoughts about heading home tomorrow. Now is about dancing. Even Francesco and don Martin dance and seem to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. Q’ero medicine people live the axiom “Life is to be enjoyed!” Above, diners in the loft smile down at us while clapping to the beat of the music. Outside the restaurant a crowd two and three deep stare in through the wall of glass, having been lured by the music. After several dances I feel the 11,000 feet altitude and need to take a break to quench my thirst and peel off a sweater. Looking out towards the street, people are still gathering including don Mariano Apasa and another Q’ero man and woman, who is holding a baby. Walking over, I open the door and invite them to join us. Putting down their mantas, which are large pieces of woven material that hold belongings much like a backpack, the men join in the dancing while the woman squats beside a table to nurse her baby. The man with don Mariano gestures for me to dance with him as a way of showing his appreciation for being invited to join us. Holding hands we spin round and round in one direction, then reverse directions, round and round some more. By the time we stop I am almost ready to faint. Later, when told that the man and woman are two of the street vendors who have followed us from hotel to hotel, I reply simply, “There is no hierarchy, we are all brothers and sisters.”

Later, several of us start dancing in a circle. Soon others join in until everyone is holding hands and twirling as one. While the band takes a brief break, I add back all my layers of clothing and gather up my packages before heading out into the cool night air. On the way back to the hotel, I stop at the internet cafe. This time I am successful reaching Rick. His voice greets me with warmth and love. He and our Boxer “boys” are cuddled up watching a movie. Having received my message earlier, he contacted the credit card company to find out why my card was being denied. Apparently credit card theft is rampant in some foreign countries including Peru. So, without even trying to contact us to verify whether we were traveling in Peru, they put a “hold” on our account, which is to be lifted by morning. Briefly, but with great passion, I recount my shopping saga and end by saying how generous Jerry has been to “financially support” me. A few more exchanges of endearments and we say goodnight.

It is almost midnight when I reach my hotel room. Energized from dancing, my conversation with Rick, and the credit card fiasco, I quickly repack one bag to include the recently acquired gifts, take a relaxing hot shower, and read a few more chapters of my book before turning off the lights. “My last night in Peru,” I think as my eyes close.

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Intipunku to Cuzco

6/27/2002

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Suzi is up and out early to catch the first bus to Machu Picchu. Last night, before drifting off to sleep, we made plans to meet this morning at the Temple of the Priestess. Being that we are on our own this morning, I succumb to the luxury of sleeping in to 7:30 am.

Slowly others in our allyu gather for breakfast. Some intend to spend the morning leisurely packing, reading or walking along the Urubamba River. Some, like Suzi, left early, to instead climb to the top of Huyana Picchu.

Finishing breakfast, I pack a snack and head off to the bus station, arriving only moments before the 9:30 bus is scheduled to leave for Machu Picchu.

Huyana Picchu behind veil of clouds

Only Jamee is on the bus. Soon Barbara arrives. Then another. Nine-thirty comes and goes. Quarter to ten arrives, but still the bus does not leave. Finally at 10 a.m. a tour group arrives and we are off. During the ride “up the hill,” Jamee, Barbara and I discover we are all heading to the Temple of the Priestess.

Temple of the Priestess
After paying fees, the steps taken last night are retraced towards the Watchman’s Hut. Veering off to the left, we follow the trail to the Sun Gate (Intipunku). Though it is only 10:30 a.m., the air warms up quickly. Shedding layers, we make the gradual elevation climb.

At the base of the massive outcropping that is the Temple of the Priestess sits Suzi with her mesa spread open to absorb the energy of this sacred feminine spot. “Come on up!” she encourages. Finding a place relatively clear of strewn rocks, I cleanse the area with Florida Water, offer tobacco to Pachamama, and open sacred space. Next I spread open my mesa and arrange my kuyas (medicine stones) to absorb the energy of the sun (Inti) and this power site. Pressing my body against the Priestess Stone, I set intention for this strong, wild feminine energy to penetrate deeply into my luminous energy body to aid my return to ayni.

From up here there is an incredible view of the Urubamba River and the railroad tracks that parallel it. Amazingly, the sound of the river can be heard as if it were right beside me. This is due to the Temple’s naturally concave shape. Later, when the train whistle blows, it is almost deafening! Silently sitting in my mesa, the sounds of dragonflies, gnats and the river below lull me into a deeply meditative state of consciousness. The peace and fellowship of sharing this moment with my “sisters” fills my heart with joy.

Looking down at the Urubamba River and train tracks leading to Ollantaytambo

“Have you ever hiked up to the Sun Gate?” Suzi asks. Answering “No,” she suggests that we pack up our things and head in that direction. By now he sun is high in the sky and the air is hot. Along the way we come upon a partial wall with niches, pillars, and an enormous flat-topped rock with three steps leading up to it. Ceremonial, we determine. Though the elevation gain is gradual, the trail’s highest point — the Sun Gate — is actually higher than Huayna Picchu, which forms the dramatic backdrop behind Machu Picchu.

“Have you ever hiked up to Intipunku, the Sun Gate?” Suzi asks. Answering “No,” she suggests that we pack up our things and head in that direction. By now he sun is high in the sky and the air is hot. Along the way we come upon a partial wall with niches, pillars, and an enormous flat-topped rock with three steps leading up to it. Ceremonial, we determine.

Though the elevation gain is gradual, the trail’s highest point — the Sun Gate — is actually higher than Huayna Picchu, which forms the dramatic backdrop behind Machu Picchu. Standing on the threshold of the Sun Gate, I feel energy coursing quickly up and down my spine, and simultaneously outwards into the Universe. It is hard not to step beyond as the pull of other holy mountains such as Salkantay is great.

Noting the time, and feeling a stronger connection to Spirit and what my purpose here is on Earth, I half-run down the trail.

Ever since Ausangate, Suzi has been collecting stones to gift her students, and I have picked up the habit.

As we descend, my pockets are filled with green-colored stones that I have seen only between the Temple of the Priestess and the Sun Gate. Running down the uneven staircases that I so tentatively climbed last night, we catch the last bus until late afternoon. Too late to have lunch with our group, protein bars, nuts and warm water have to suffice before meeting up with our allyu for one last ritual.

The Last Ritual
Our last ritual is to bring closure to the experiences we've had on this journey. It takes place on the bank of the Urubamba River. Our task is to create a sand painting that depicts the entirety of our story — our personal journey through this lifetime. Afterwards, we will offer our sand painting to the Urubamba Riiver to “hold” so we no longer need to carry them. One of the main tributaries that makes up the headwaters of the Amazon River, my sand painting could conceivably make a 6,000 mile journey.
But first, we gather in a circle to hear a story of another journey. Medicine people of all cultures believe there is one organizing principle in the Universe — Spirit. “Some,” Alberto tells us, “call it by other names such as Wiracocha, chi, life-force, prana, Creator, God. Spirit has an agenda that the Q’ero call “the intent of condor” — the self-transforming principle of the universe. Westerners don’t recognize this principle because of our human agenda. As a result, we create lives with lots of internal chatter and move at very high speed. This disconnects us from Nature and the natural rhythm of the Universe."

He then tells us the first story ever told, which goes something like this:

In the Beginning, Spirit’s agenda was to express itself in the Uhupacha — the Lower World -- with the Stone People. Lots of experimentation took place — from hot molten to boulders to huacas — in the forming of Earth. The Stone People were the first people when Earth was created. The experiment of the Stone People lasted a very long, long time.

Next, Spirit expressed itself as the Plant People through a palette of colors and aromas. Sensuality and sexuality emerged. The experiment acquired a vocabulary in this domain, and continued evolving. Within the domain of the Plant People, the experiment perfected communion with light: photosynthesis. The experiment also created four musical notes: A-C-T-P, the basis for DNA, which has the potential to combine in a variety of forms. But, the limitations of this domain, too, became apparent.

As a result, an entirely new experiment began. Creatures evolved who could expand their range of activity and evolution. Yet, all of nature shared the same components — the notes of Creation. The Cosmic Serpent was created from the four notes, the sounds of which are held by the four directions. And the experiment continued. This time the vessel of Spirit contained a specialized component — a central nervous system. Senses could now extend into the world. Touch. Sight. Sound.

In the fetus, the neural tube began to form, which develops into the central nervous system. This happens through imagination. As a result of this process, a brain began to form. At first it was very rudimentary. Memory began to evolve. Fear, and then pain. The first brain to develop was the Reptilian Brain. It took care of feeding, regulating blood pressure, reproduction — sex. And, for millions of years this worked well for large reptiles with pea-sized brains. But these reptiles could not learn.

The Plant People decided that things needed to change. A council of elders was convened and they decided to change the scene completely. They produced a poisonous gas that decimated the ecosystem and about 99% of all life forms.

Next, mammals appeared. In addition to the reptilian brain, these creatures also had a mammalian brain. The Condor Principle was at work — nature moving to transform itself. The experiment with this new brain became highly developed: the concept of family and community emerged as well as collective consciousness, love, emotions and heartbreak. Meanwhile, the reptilian brain was still informing through signals and impulses.

Then, a new brain appeared — the Neo-Cortex — with its ability to think and even comprehend the four notes of Creation. For most of humanity, however, the features of this new brain remain dormant. And, because it functions so very differently than the Reptilian Brain, tension was created as well.

Each brain has its downfalls — the Reptilian Brain eats its own babies; the Mammalian Brain eats other’s babies; and the Neo-Cortex eats everything for power.

Next, the fourth brain appeared — the Frontal Lobes, which gives us the potential to dream. Again, Condor’s self-transforming principle at work: a structure that permits one to benefit from another’s experience. No longer is there an “I” that separates one from another. It is obliterated. Shamans work in this domain of 'No Separation'. They know that when they step beyond the “I,” pure experience informs them and allows them to tap into the organizing principle of the Universe: Spirit.

The Condor Principle operates at the level of the allyu — community — and individuals simultaneously. Condors fly alone, but they feed together and save the eyes and liver for the chief condor of their allyu. Our uniqueness is augmented and expanded when the “I” is slain.

According to lore, the return of the Inka activates the frontal lobe — the ability to dream and vision. Shamans say, “Have everything, but do not hoard,” because fear and scarcity are what stalks lifelessness. Greed is the huge enemy of shamans. A master shaman doesn’t own anything because that is what possesses you; makes you slip back into the “I” where Death stalks you.

The world we live in is being mulched right now. The societies we live in are dinosaurs — they are not encouraged to evolve. Our corporations, our governments, our organizations, our educational systems are all set up to maintain the status quo; not evolution.

“Yes,” my body screams inside! Corporations, for the most part, are built on scarcity and greed, and most organizations — private and nonprofit — use fear and hope to manipulate and coerce reaction and support. Our business systems are based upon money, not ecological values such as preservation, stewardship and sustainability. This is one of the messages I tried to spread while working for the University of California at Santa Barbara, which, too, was run from a place of scarcity and greed. Fascinating, I think to myself, that Corporate America is having its comeuppance with scandals of greed, lying, mismanagement, and corruption. The Condor Principle is being realized.

Meanwhile, Alberto continues:

To activate the Condor Principle you must eat as close to the sun as possible, feed on light as much as possible. We have an opportunity to become a new species within the species of Homo-sapiens because our species is becoming extinct. The experiment has come to a place of extinction at the level of the critical mass.

The Inka Prophesy talks about a time of quantum leap — the becoming of a new species. That time is now. It is a possibility.

My body is visibly vibrating as I listen to these last words. “I know this to be true,” my cells scream. This has been my journey these last few years. . . not only to feed on more light, but also to consciously slow my life down so I may “hear” the evolutionary notes imprinted within my soul, and to “feel” and consciously participate in the restructuring of my DNA.

Rites of passage by indigenous peoples are both spiritual and biological. Within nature it has been discovered that new species of vines and lichen are being created. Shamans believe that evolution happens within generations, not between generations. Most religions are based upon a spiritual afterlife. For shamans, it’s in this lifetime, in this body, and on this earth. Shamans shatter the myth of illusion of a hereafter. Shamans embrace fully the experiment in the here and now: to remember the stories when there were only Stone People, Plant People, and other creatures; and, to know that there are counterparts in the luminous body.

We are at the vanguard of a revolution, but, first we need to dismantle our notion of separateness. One of the elements of the grand experiment is the essence of the allyu — EYE-YOU — the tapestry of life that extends before us and after us. Second, we need to become conscious of what we repeat over and over and over again in our journey.

After several hundred yards walking along the railroad track beside the Urubamba River, we come to a massive, flat topped boulder lying partly on the shore and partly in the river. Carefully, we work our way down the steep embankment and up onto the boulder. It is here we will create a sand painting that depicts our life’s journey, share it with a partner, and cast the elements into the Urubamba to be cleansed and released to Spirit. Jerry and I look across at each other — we began this journey together and equally feel the appropriateness of doing this culminating piece of work together.

This final task is perfect. For the past three years, I have relentlessly tracked and examined my life through the lens of a mythic journey. My purpose has been to discover and understand the metaphoric and mythological meaning of my relationships and experiences, including leukemia, so to heal at all levels. Where has my life been leading me? For what have I been searching? How have obstacles presented themselves along my path? Who or what has influenced and supported my search? What gifts have I acquired along the way?

Bags of beans, corn, sugar, grains, and coca leaves are pulled out of a satchel for us to use in the construction of our sand painting. After selecting ingredients to describe my personal mythic journey, I begin to assemble my “paintbox.” Together, Jerry and I open sacred space by calling in the archetypal forces of nature associated with the four directions. Silently, I pray to Pachamama and Wiracocha to help me see my journey clearly without the overlay of ego to cloud my perception. This moment takes on an ethereal quality of holiness. Even the air becomes completely still.

I begin by pouring rice through my hand to create a circle that represents the totality of my life. At about the three o’clock position, the retelling of my soul’s journey during this lifetime unfolds. Onto a bed of sugar, I place one seed — the bed of sweetness I entered this world upon. Close by, on another bed of sugar I place three kernels of corn — one for my mother, one for my father, and one in between for me. A barrier of red beans, depicting the first “hurdle” that crossed my path at 21 months old, is placed immediately to the right. Just beyond the barrier a single kernel of corn — the literal and symbolic loss and separation from my birth parents: soul loss.

Next, I visually describe the aloneness I felt in the world even though there were outside influences that nurtured my growth. This portion of my sand-painting is symbolized by a bed of quinoa cradling a single kernel of corn. At the edge of the quinoa are smaller and more numerous corn kernels depicting my need to leave “home” so I could individuate and explore the various aspects of my self. My journey then includes experimentation with creating a loving and nurturing relationship represented by two corn kernels on a bed of sugar and quinoa.

The next segment of my journey led me to explore relationships from the place of career. One large corn kernel, symbolizing my soul-self is placed along side three smaller ones. The latter denotes the professional roles I sequentially took on and refined over the years. All four kernels sit on a nurturing bed of rice and quinoa. This period is followed by a second “hurdle” along my path — a breakdown in health — leukemia — that redefined the priorities and nature of my journey. At this juncture, instead of separating myself from the divine, as I did at 21 months, I delved into the deepest, darkest, most unconscious aspects of my life (symbolized by a piece of llama fat) to come out the other side having discovered “the treasure that is hard to find” — depicted by a pure white hominy “pearl” on a bed of rice and sugar.

At the “hub” of my life’s journey each element that describes my life is present — hominy (my soul), corn (roles/personality/ego), bean (challenges and obstacles), rice and quinoa (opportunities for growth), and sugar (sweetness and positive nurturing). They sit on a bed of coca leaves that represents the transformative processes of life. No longer fighting to protect myself against the hungry ghosts that haunted me, I am becoming a spiritual warrior that wields love and forgiveness.

Looking even more deeply at my sand painting, I begin to understand more fully the mythic nature of my life’s journey. My search has always been to remember that I have never been separate — I am a child of Spirit (Wiracocha) and Pachamama; a child of heaven and earth; a mediator of the three Worlds. I understand, too, that it has been the large obstacles along my path — near death, separation from my parents, soul loss, and leukemia — that have propelled and kept me focused on my search for wholeness and a return to ayni.

I weep as the images of all the key players in my life who have impacted, influenced and supported my journey flash through my mind. So many luminous markers (saiwas) — who came into my life at just the perfect moments — some cheerleaders and others dark angels. The gifts? Tears stream down my cheeks. So many gifts have influenced, informed and allowed me to experiment and to create over and over in many forms of expression, but always with the same central purpose. Wholeness. Ayni.

I know, without doubt, that the direction my journey is leading me is to the broader conversation of transformation — creating new forms of relationship based on cooperation and collaboration, new forms of organization and ways of engagement that are horizontal rather than vertical and hierarchical. And create artworks the express the visions and beauty of my emerging consciousness. My body tingles. I feel a passion welling up inside me that has been missing, yet yearned for my entire life. I am ready to go home and make myself fully available to whatever ways I am called by Spirit to be in service to others. I have not a clue where my journey will lead, but it no longer matters. I know why I am here. I trust that my path will reveal itself. I trust that it will be perfect. With tears running down my cheeks, I give thanks to Wiracocha and Pachamama, Apu Ausangate, all of the animistic forces of nature, and these self-less medicine people who have held me so sweetly and shared so much.

Jerry knows much of my life’s journey from previous work done together, and immediately gets the story told in my sand-painting. I do not even try to share, at this point, the many possible implications of my revelations. Scooping all of the elements up into my hands, Jerry and I walk over to the edge of the boulder. With a prayer of thanks for all the lessons, challenges and opportunities, and support given me to evolve my soul, I cast them in the water to be purified and transformed as they make their 6,000 mile journey down the Urubamba River to the Amazon and out to sea.

I take a deep breath, my shoulders relax. I jump up and down in childish delight. After Jerry releases his sand-painting to the cleansing waters, we hug and high-five each other. With broad smiles on our faces we close sacred space before walking back to the hotel. Now, we're both ready to go home!

Trip Back to Cuzco
The train to Ollantaytambo is filled with noisy conversation about the work we just completed. Some members of our allyu begin to transition back to their lives in the United States — talking about their families, jobs, and how this experience has changed their perception about the lives they had been living. I feel so incredibly grateful that my life in the States is richly fulfilling and nurturing. It will be good to be home and share stories and pictures with Rick and close friends, and to be with my Boxer “boys.” But, that is later. The present moment is where my intention is rooted. Dusk comes early, and before we reach Ollantaytambo nighttime descends. It’s interesting how quiet it gets when darkness comes — as if there is an unspoken agreement that one whispers in the dark.

There is just time for a quick “pit-stop” at the train station before we board our bus that will take us back to Cuzco. Suzi and I are talked out. Eyes shut, I doze until we round the bend by Tambomachay and stay awake until the bus passes Sacsayhauman. I will always associate these Inka sites with the sacred time Jerry and I spent in preparation for this journey. There is some confusion when we reach the Royal Inka II hotel. It seems we have been moved to the Royal Inka I. Walking the block between hotels, the ever present street vendors are waiting for us. Surprising to me, Mercedes Benz, the vendor, has followed us back to Cuzco! Apparently she and the others knew exactly in which hotel we would be staying.

Suzi and I are assigned a room in the attic — it has a lovely beamed ceiling, two separate bathrooms, and lots of room to spread out all of our gear that must be repacked for our journey home. After a hot shower to revive me, I join Suzi and Jerry for a late dinner at “El Truco” where a folkloric group entertains with Andean music and dance. It is a lively show that makes us all want to get up and dance! I will miss the inexpensive prices in Peru — three dinners with drinks and entertainment for less than $45 US. Amazing!

Splitting up dinner bills in Peru, however, tends to be tricky and quite an ordeal. Each transaction takes place one at a time. First one credit card is collected, processed, brought back to the table for a signature, returned to the cashier, and a copy brought back to the table. Then the next credit card is taken and the process starts again. By the time our three bills are settled even the waiters have left for the night.

A few short steps and we are back at the hotel to finish packing and head to bed. Uncharacteristically, I am way too tired to read.

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Machu Picchu

6/26/2002

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“Damn alarm,” I think as the irritating sound of ringing breaks the quiet stillness of the early morning. It is not the alarm, but the phone. The front desk is calling with our 4:30 a.m. wake-up call. I mumble to Suzi that I’ll jump in the shower quickly. Ten minutes later, shivering, I pull on some warm clothes, pack last minute toiletries into my bag and place it outside the door. It is 5 a.m. when I reach the dining room. Juice, eggs, roll, a couple of sausages, fruit, and of course, matte de coca. Just as I gulp down my vitamins and supplements, Marco announces, “It’s time. Let’s go!”

Train to Machu Picchu

Only a few intrepid vendors line the road outside the hotel entrance. Everyone is still sleepy, and the bus is dark and cold. Huddled together, Suzi and I try dozing a little while longer. The drive today to Ollantaytambo is uneventful — no boulders or billboards block the road. There is no strike.

We arrive just in time to catch the train to Aguas Calientes, a town situated at the base of Machu Picchu. Since 1998, when Rick and I were here with World Wildlife Fund, the Orient Express Company runs two trains a day, and these offer quite an improvement in luxury. Wrap around windows afford views of the mountain tops, and breakfast is served.

The train follows along the right side of the Urubamba River, which is the earthly expression of the Milky Way and flows in the same direction as that Cosmic River of the night sky. Along the train route are several stops where people get off to access the Inca Trail. As the train enters a narrow gorge, the river runs fast and wild. Large boulders constrict water flow, here and there, creating rapids, eddies, and sink holes.

Farther down river, a hydroelectric dam generates electricity from the flow. Suzi points out some Inka ruins on the far hillside that she and her sons visited when they hiked the Inka Trail.

As we continue to drop in elevation, the landscape turns lush, with dense tropical foliage. Everywhere I look, bromeliads hang in the trees and thick vines wrap counterclockwise.

The trip to Aguas Calientes takes about one hour, and as we draw closer, I see the place where a Sikorsky jet helicopter used to land, and which now is strewn with large boulders. Later, I learn that not long after Rick and I flew in the helicopter back to Cuzco, an earthquake released the boulders from the side of the mountain terminating that service. Too bad, it afforded a spectacular view of the Andes, and provided my first glimpse of Ausangate! Presently, the only access to Machu Picchu is by train or foot along the Inka Trail.

Aquas Calientes

“Wow,” I say to no one in particular, “Aguas Calientes has a real train station, and with a restaurant!” Across the tracks a sign points to the upscale Pueblo Hotel, which is where Rick and I had stayed. Leaving the train station I almost don't recognize the area. After walking through a double deep line of vendor stalls, one can either walk straight ahead to catch a bus to Machu Picchu, or cross a bridge into town.

Aguas Calientes, itself, has changed considerably, too. There are many more restaurants and shops, and buildings including new hotels, such as the Machu Picchu Inn where we are staying. There are even quite a few internet cafes.

Our hotel is modern, in a contemporary Euro-style, with a lot of glass and right angles. The plan for today is to meet for an early pizza lunch on the Square before heading up to Machu Picchu where we will be until about 9 p.m.

Since the breakfast buffet is still available, Jerry has a fantastic idea of making ham and cheese sandwiches to take with us for later snacking while up at the ruins. We make two sandwiches each to take with us, and eat another while waiting for our rooms to be made up. It is 8: 30 a.m. and I've already had three breakfasts!

Once our room is ready, Suzi and I head there to wash up and repack our daypacks. We have a beautiful view over rooftops of the mountains that flank Machu Picchu.

Our "room with a view"

Jerry at Cafe @ Internet

While Suzi naps, Jerry and I head off to an internet cafe several doors away. Still no message from Rick. I send off another using Jerry’s account and send quick notes to friends back home. Leaving Jerry at the internet cafe, I wander in and out of the small tourist shops designed to lure tourists to spend soles.

Not one to wear a watch, I synchronistically run into Suzi on her way to meet our allyu for lunch. Some of the most memorable pizzas I have had, have been in Peru, and this is no exception. The crust is thin and very crispy. The cheese, sauce and various topping ingredients are fresh and not excessively used. Baked in large wood-fired stone ovens, the pizzas are served bubbly hot. I also love the fresh pressed pineapple juice. Five large pizzas are ordered. Though some of us are not very hungry — after 3 breakfasts, I should hope I'm not — we know dinner will be very late tonight. And, of course, Jerry and I have our two sandwiches for later. Satiated and well prepared, we head off to catch the bus.

Preparing our pizzas

Looking down at the switchback road that takes tourists up to Machu Picchu

The Road to Machu Picchu
The road to Machu Picchu winds up the mountain in a steep series of switchbacks that are bisected by an Inka staircase. This pre-Columbian site is just over 8,000 feet above sea level and approximately 50 miles northwest of Cuzco. At the top, the hotel and restaurant have been attractively renovated. There is also a snack bar, bathrooms and locker rooms where, for two soles, I am given a plastic bag to store all my warm clothes that will be put on later for this evening’s ceremony after the site closes to the general public.

This is the busy time of day at the ruin — after the morning train arrives and before the afternoon one leaves for Ollantaytambo and Cuzco. Our guide, Marco, leads us to a quiet spot within the ruin to present an historical overview. We learn that this area is considered Cloud Forest and “surrounded by bamboo forest and 500 or more types of flowering plants. And, though the Spaniards may have explored this part of the Urubamba Valley, there is no evidence they ever found Machu Picchu.

Pointing to structures nearby, he explains that some of the buildings are original. “When Yale University historian Hiram Bingham was led here by some indios he had befriended, on July 24, 1911, they had to take apart some of the buildings to cut back the jungle, and then,” pointing to other nearby structures that have numbers marked on the stone blocks, “reconstruct them.”

Bottom portion is original, while the top is reconstructed

The complex that makes up this UNESCO World Heritage Site sits in a saddle between two mountains — Machu Picchu and Huayna Picchu — offering a commanding view down two valleys. Carbon dating confirms that the site was built at the height of the Inka Empire around 1462, likely during the reign of Pachakuti Inka, and since there is no evidence of post-Conquest occupation, it is hypothesized to have been abandoned less than 100 years later. There is also a hypothesis that Machu Picchu was already part of a religious and scientific culture before Pachakuti’s reign, which would make the site older than generally accepted.

Archeologist Maryann Kendall, who lived for more than ten years in the area, believes the area was a nation onto itself and Machu Picchu may have been its capital. She also concluded that this area must have supported a large population due to all the agricultural terracing that was built at Machu Picchu and the thirty or more satellite agricultural production sites constructed along the Inka Trail.

There are several access points into Machu Picchu. One is through the Sun Gate (Intipunku) and the other across an Inkan bridge, which made the site readily defensible. Both access routes required high-altitude traverses across the mountains from Cuzco.

Some of the agricultural terracing within the site

The now dry moat

The site was comprised of three primary sectors. The terraced areas made up the Agricultural Sector. Lower in elevation than Cuzco by approximately 3,000 feet, it has a milder climate for raising crops, and an abundant water supply from springs. Sophisticated gravity-fed canals transported the water from elsewhere on the mountain to the site. Today, those very springs provide water for the hotel. A now dry moat divides the Agricultural Sector from the Sacred Temple Sector and the Residential Sector.

As of 2002, two hundred dwellings have been uncovered, and archeologists estimate that about 1,000 people could have sustainably inhabited the site.

Supporting Ms. Kendall’s thesis regarding agricultural production, some experts estimate the agricultural output of Machu Picchu, including the much larger terraced areas behind the mountain (Machu Picchu) and along the Inka Trail, would have greatly exceeded the needs of its inhabitants — perhaps by as much as four times greater.
In constructing Machu Picchu, the Inka devised an outstanding drainage system that has substantially lessened erosion on the mountain in comparison to others sites nearby. Scientific testing has revealed that the terraces were constructed of gravel, sand and dirt, which accounts for the excellent drainage in an area that receives about 90 inches of rain annually from November through April.

Most of the stone and gravel found in the terraces and building structures were carried up the mountain hundreds of feet from the Urubamba River. The sand used in constructing the terraces came from the coast of Peru, while the dirt was imported from Cuzco and the Urubamba area of the Sacred Valley.

Continuing past the Agricultural Sector are the fountains. Really a succession of sixteen baths, they form a series of small waterfalls. There is speculation that these may have been used ceremonially in rituals to Pachamama (Mother Earth).

An example of the architectural style Inka Rustica

Architecturally, there are two prominent styles in evidence at Machu Picchu: the Inka Imperial style was used for temples, while Inka Rustica was used for lesser structures. The former style is distinguished by polished dry-stone walls of regular shape that fit together tightly without mortar.

This technique is referred to as ashlar. Inka stone masons were masters of this particular technique. The mortar-free construction is also more earthquake resistant because the stones can move slightly and resettle without the walls collapsing. Additionally, a number of design details also help protect them from seismic damage.

Detail: Inka Imperial style

Doors and windows are built trapezoidal and tilt inwards from bottom to top; corners are generally rounded. Inside corners often incline slightly into the rooms with“L-shaped” stones blocks often used to tie outside corners of the structure together.

Exterior view: Principle Temple with its Inka Imperial architectural styling

Rustica archetectural style constructed around natural stone

Buildings of lesser importance were constructed in the Rustica style that used mortar. These were generally storehouses and residential quarters.

How the large stones were moved remains a mystery. The wheel was not used in any practical engineering application, though its use in toys shows that the principle was known at this time. There were no strong draft animals, and the topography and vegetation would have been a challenge. The general belief is that the stone quarries were on site, very skilled masons were employed to cut and hewn the stone, and hundreds of men were used to push them up inclined planes.

Our guide demonstrates how it is believed the Inka masons shaped stones. First, using the natural cracks, the stones were roughly shaped. Then, using stone against stone like a chisel, they were more finely sculpted to fit together with exacting precision. Finally, after the stones were in place, they were further smoothed by rubbing stone against stone. Ingenious!

Throughout Machu Picchu there are more than one-hundred flights of stone steps. Some are conventional-style steps while others float out of walls like those found at the Temple at Moray.

Stone pegs are found on the exterior walls of structures, as well as stone rings on the sloping steeples. These were used to attach roofs made from thatch. It is believed that the roofs were steeply pitched because of the wind. Speculation, too, is that the stone pegs found embedded in the inner walls of temples were used to hang ceremonial or ritual objects.

Due to the large number and quality of temple structures, Machu Picchu is thought to have been principally a spiritual and ceremonial site. There are, however, no records of any kind — Inka or indio — to confirm or deny this. Curiously, no gold or silver of any quantity was ever found here. Whether that is because it was previously removed, or not, is also unknown. What Bingham did find here were about eighty skeletons that were originally believed to be those of females who may have come to train as priestesses, to learn astronomy, or to take part in spiritual practices, rituals and initiation rites. Inka society was matriarchal. Modern scientific tests have proved those early assumptions not to be accurate.

The Temples at Machu Picchu

Pointing in the direction of Intipunku -- the Sun Gate -- our guide tells us about the Temple of the High Priestess. “This is a very powerful huaca — the place talks to you,” he says. “You can hear the echo of the river.” We are encouraged to find places within the site that energetically draw us, and later go back to hold ceremony and journey to either the Upper World (Hanaqpacha) or Lower World (Uhupacha). “The truth about Machu Picchu will reveal itself, if you listen,” Marco continues. I immediately decide to spend time tomorrow morning at the Temple of the High Priestess.

Temple of the High Priestess

Temple of the Condor — its wings are the natural stone

Next, we make our way to the Temple of the Condor. Named after one of the most important animal/birds in Inka mythology, the condor symbolizes mountains, and is known to be the messenger of the mountain dieties (apus), carrying messages from the Upper World to this Middle World (Kaypacha).

Niches above the temple are thought by some to have been used to store mummies so the “condor” could take their souls back to the Upper World. Within this Temple is a cave with very fine examples of Imperial-style stone masonry, also referred to as the Temple of Fertility. Once a year, on the Winter Solstice (June 21), the sun rises in a particular position and illuminates the “head” of the condor.

An animistic culture, a hallmark of the Inka was to organize their worldview and human activity around Pachamama (Mother Earth, cycles of nature/life).

Head of the condor

Ceremonially on this date, corn beer (chicha) would be poured into the trough at the “head” of the Condor so it would run down the “beak” and be absorbed by Pachamama. The altar above the Temple is believed to have been used to find personal vision.

Vision is a very important concept in the Inka cosmology. It is understood to be an expression of consciousness that includes the process of fertility: the act of creation. When shamans ask for a “vision,” they are asking to receive a map of Creation; a knowingness of the momentums that are determining how life enfolds within the bounds of time and space. Key to receiving a “vision” is always our attachment to outcome. The less attachment we have, the more open we are to receive a big vision — a vision that is outside the momentum of probability, but offers the greatest possibility for wholeness and healing. Once a vision is received, it is our responsibility to generate sufficient passion to “grow” or nurture its highest (kollana) expression — the one that creates wholeness: Oneness. Next, we must practice responsibility so our passion is directed into inspiration and ultimately, right-action.

Looking down into the House of the Chosen Women

Next, we explore the Residential Sector. Marco tells us that the men who lived at Machu Picchu dwelled above the plaza. Most of the women lived in the lower area next to the grass plaza, and were responsible for the preparation of food and clothing. A select group of “chosen” women, known as the Virgins of the Sun, lived in separate quarters referred to as the House of the Chosen Women.

These women represented Pachamama — Eternal Mother/Mother Earth -- in earthly form, and were responsible for serving the Inka ruler or Sun God. These Virgins also played a vital role within the empire because they could be given to a conquered ruler, sealing the conquest and making that alliance secure. The Virgins were also responsible for keeping the sacred fire continually burning — a symbolic reference to the four-chambered Universe cosmology known as Tiwantinesuyu.

This four-fold map of consciousness is symbolized by the Southern Cross constellation and is based upon the counter-clockwise progression of the solar cycle and the organic movement of planets, in contrast to the four cardinal directions. Each “chamber” relates to one of four principles of engagement (suyus). Beginning in the east (kollyasuyu), our engagement is like that of the rising sun — to awaken and consciously create our personal reality so we may step into our full potential. Moving “up” (antisuyu) like the sun rising towards the heavens, our engagement shifts to the place of revelation — the ability to tap into knowingness because we are no longer separate from our essential soul-self. As the sun continues its journey to the west (chinchaysuyu), our engagement turns to articulating and recapitulating experience in order to become stewards of our direct experiences. Lastly, like the dying sun that sinks “down” (kontisuyu), our engagement shifts to resetting, letting go resistance so that change (evolution) occurs fluidly and continuously.

Medicine people assemble reality using this four-fold map by engaging, through conscious awareness, their everyday activities by the position of the sun. For instance, morning brings the possibility of a new vision in accordance to what the day may hold; it is time to work when the sun is at its highest point and there are no shadows to obscure what needs to be done; the end of the day offers the opportunity to recapitulate and take responsibility for all actions and engagements that have occurred throughout the day, and nighttime is about resetting.

Within the “House of the Chosen Women” are two circular stone basins, that it is speculated may have been used as mortars to tell time. Interestingly, they are oriented to the equinoxes and solstices, and at these times of the year the sun casts light across the basins and illuminates a corresponding doorway.

According to archeologist Brian Bauer, the basins are also in alignment with the “llamas eyes” of the Alpha and Beta Centauri constellation. It is thought that the window openings in this room are situated to create a triangulation that allowed for other celestial mapping as well.

Our next stop is the Temple of the Uhupacha, which became my favorite temple during my previous trip to Peru with my husband. Created out of both living rock and a combination of Imperial and Rustica stonework, it is sometimes referred to as the Royal or Sacred Mausoleum.

Temple of the Uhupacha

Here, the three world cosmology of the Inka is exquisitely represented — the Lower World (Uhupacha), the Middle World (Kaypacha) in which we live, and the Upper World (Hanaqpacha).

Fitted on top of the natural rock outcropping that forms the foundation of the Temple of the Uhupacha mausoleum is the Temple of the Sun. A round, tapering tower that mimics the curve of the horizon, this temple features the most exquisite example of Imperial stonework found at Machu Picchu. Recent studies indicate that the Temple served as an astronomical observatory. Inside, a rock incised with a straightedge cut is precisely aligned, through an adjacent window opening, to the rising sun on the Winter Solstice.

Our next stop is the Principal Temple or the Temple of Wiracocha, a three-walled structure named for the enormous size and superb quality stonework used in its foundation. It is also the only temple that has a smaller one next to it.

Exterior view of the Principal Temple

Along the longest wall are seven niches that are believed to have connection to the seven organizing principles (saiwas) of the Tiwantinesuyu cosmology that is attributed to the Inka. Loosely translated, the word saiwa refers to a stone obelisk used as a marker. The seven saiwas are conceptual maps that provide orientation to understand the nature of power and consciousness. Like the Noble Truths of Buddhism, the saiwas are truths for enlightened people. Through embodiment, these seven principles or luminous markers — cheka, kausay, kollary, munay, nüna, yüya and chullya — transform information into power that can “grow corn.” These organizing principles serve, too, as the backbone of Andean energy healing practices:

Cheka reveals that while we may each hold and be guided by many relative truths, there is only one absolute Truth. This luminous marker denotes the level of consciousness where the illusion of the ego or “little self” is abandoned for the Absolute Truth held by our “higher Self” — that we are not separate from Oneness. To embody this state of consciousness requires distinguishing out the different levels of truth, especially those enculturated beliefs and judgments that act as filters and narrow our awareness of the infinite possibilities that are always available to us.
Kausay states that everything in the Universe — visible and invisible — is animated; infused with life-force. This luminous marker describes the fundamental energy of Creation that brings galaxies, suns, mountains, flowers, humans, as well as everything else, into being. It also reveals the universal law of attraction that governs all existence. To embody this organizing principle it's necessary to map and refine our affinities so we attract high-powered (kollana) frequencies of energy into our lives. Why is this important? Because in order to realize our destiny, we must come into the fullness of our power, which requires managing optimum life-force.
Kollary teaches that the Universe is dynamic and in constant motion. Nothing is in perfect stillness. In the time/space intersection, everything has a cyclic beginning and end. This luminous marker confirms that life is a continual process of embodiment. Our ability to distinguish and map these transitions is important in gaining power, which makes the journey through life meaningful and fulfilling. Vision, trust and intent are key to reaching our destiny: coming into the fullness of our being.
Munay affirms that unconditional love — the unhampered bi-directional flow of energy as a state of being — is the underlying affinity that bridges all levels of consciousness and frees us from woundings by others and from our ego. This luminous marker establishes this expression of energy as the connective tissue for everything in the Universe — atoms, particles, galaxies, the cycle of seasons, and the ebb and flow of rivers and tides. Unlike the expression of love known to us through the dualistic belief of cause and effect, to embody this organizing principle we must be impersonal, unconditional and timeless. Shamans know that the past, present and future is accessed and healed through munay.
Nüna informs us that everything in the Universe — collectively and individually — is animated by Spirit. This quality of energy enters our luminous energy bodies through the three primary energy centers — yachay (third-eye: thoughts, dreams, beliefs and intent), munay (heart center: emotions and feelings), and llankay (belly: actions). To embody this organizing principle necessitates our recognizing Spirit in everything so we create the most refined (kollana) affinities to our essential Self (soul). In this way everything is experienced as sacred.
Yüya encourages us to know and accept, at all levels of consciousness, the wisdom and perfection of the Universe.This organizing principle describes our innate ability to learn directly from Spirit so we can create rainbows without knowing the science of molecules and refraction. Embodying this saiwa allows us to transform information into wisdom so we know how to “grow corn.” To gain wisdom, we need clear filters so Absolute Truth (not relative truth) organizes our reality and our life-force flows unimpeded. This level of clarity requires us to develop the skills of observation, detachment, and stillness so we remember the unconditional wisdom we hold within.
The seventh luminous marker is Chullya, which describes the law of unity as well as a state of being — everything is connected and nothing is separate. This luminous marker establishes the route our journey must takes to reach our destiny — to co-create with Creation. This requires us to step beyond the illusion of duality. To embody this organizing principle we must develop congruence between our three energy centers by sourcing from: (a) Absolute Truth (yachay); (b) the unconditionality of our emotions (munay), and (c) right-action (llankay) so our energy is no longer invested in or compromised by the seductions of ego.

I promise myself to revisit the Principle Temple and spend time mapping how the saiwas live within me. Beside the Principle Temple is a living stone shaped like the Southern Cross, and like the constellation in perfect north/south and east/west alignment.

The Death Stone

Due to the lateness of the hour, I realize we will not be heading in the direction of a large stone that I saw on my first trip to Machu Picchu and continue to see in my dreams, and use as the launching site for journeys to the Upper World (Hanaqpacha). Pointing in the stone’s direction, I inquire if the stone has a name.

Smiling, Marco tells me it is the Death Stone. Perfect. My body vibrates with energy when I hear it is where we will be holding ceremony tonight.

Ascending a series of steps from the Principle Temple, we stop at a rectangular-shaped room that is acoustically fascinating. As a demonstration some of us lean our heads into the stone niches that have been built-in around the room, while the others stand closely in the center. Those at the niches begin to sing very softly, “Row, row, row your boat.”

Closeup of two acoustically amplifying niches

Amplified by the stone niches, the singing fills the room like a gigantic set of surround-sound speakers. Incredible. How amazing it would be to record music in this space!

Continuing to the top of the stairway, we arrive at Intihuaytana, more commonly known as the “Hitching Post of the Sun.” Because its four corners are exactly in alignment with the cardinal directions, it is speculated that it was used for astronomical observation.

Intihuaytana — Hitching Post of the Sun

Was it a star map to track the movements of the Southern Cross, Llama (Alpha and Beta Centauri or the Big and Little Dipper) and Pleiades constellations? Or, as a sundial to “read” and calculate the passing of years, seasons, months and hours? No one seems certain. What is known is that on Winter Solstice the sun sits directly above the “chair” casting no shadow at all.

Referencing the work of astronomer Raymond Wright, Marco tells us Inka temples were situated for astronomical observations of the sun, moon, and the four constellations Omega, Vega, Sirius, and Pleiades. The number four was very significant to the Inka. It represented the four directions the sun travels (east, up, west and down) and the journey to transcendence — awakening, revelation, articulation and resetting.

The journey to transcendence is represented by the Southern Cross constellation. Additionally, the Inka subscribed to the understanding “as above so below.” The significance of this is that they mapped what they observed and understood about the movement of the sun, moon, stars and constellations to the earth, and to the human energy system. For example, the Urubamba and Vilcamayu rivers are the earthly expressions of the “Milky Way,” which is also represented by the animistic force of nature known as Amaru, the cosmic serpent. Similarly, Machu Picchu is believed to be energetically equivalent to Cuzco since both have four sacred sites (huacas) surrounding them in each of the four cardinal directions.

There are many stones at Machu Picchu that have been intentionally shaped to mirror mountains standing directly behind them. Why? Because one of the tenets of the Inka cosmology is the principle of complementary opposites. Known as yanantin and masintin, this is a complex understanding about creating the very conditions that allow for energetic balance and wholeness — right-relationship: ayni — in relationships and engagements where either dissimilar or similar energy is present. This principle has been key in my personal healing journey.

These “equivalent” representations of the mountains, called apu stones, are considered yanantin — a dissimilar expression of a similar energy. Our last stop has one such stone, the Pachamama Stone. In guidebooks, it is often called the Sacred Rock.

Pachamama Stone

Others from our allyu absorbing this high-powered (kollana) energy

The Pachamama Stone is a massive rock that was excavated elsewhere and somehow moved to this site. Flattening my body to the stone I feel its extraordinary high-voltage power, which is energetically connected to the mountain directly behind it, radiating through my body. I drink the energy in, front and back.

Other examples of apu stones at Machu Picchu:

Medicine people know the Universe to be animated and benign, and that everything has a complimentary opposite (e.g. good/bad; dark/light; unconscious/conscious; Pachamama/Wiracocha) that creates paradox in a dualistic paradigm of reality. For the conditions for wholeness to occur, shamans say, you must experience and dance with both complimentary aspects of a yanantin relationship. In other words, you cannot know light without having experiencing dark; you cannot experience the collective without mapping the personal; and you cannot know well-being without having experienced dis-ease.

For the past several years, through my apprenticeship in Inka shamanism, I have been learning how to separate Absolute Truth from relative truth — the wheat from the chaff. Like veils before our eyes, we create or consensually absorb beliefs and stories that keep us feeling disempowered and separate. Medicine people here refer to these as the "hungry ghosts that stalk us." The journey to wholeness is found through the stepping beyond these relative believes by embracing, rather than resisting, their complimentary opposite.

My personal journey is revealing to me what organizing principles and beliefs guide my life choices unconditionally — no matter the context? What are the fears that hold me in their grip and keep me from expressing the light that burns deep within? These are not easy questions. I find myself discovering answers, only to find myself later plunged even deeper into the "lower world" of my consciousness to mine even more understanding as relative truths after relative truths are seen for what they are.

What I do know, first-hand, is the medicine teaching of complimentary opposites holds power, and for wholeness to be present in my life I must dance with strength in weakness, life in death, accomplishment in failure, and evolution in stagnation. It is only when complimentary opposite expressions are brought into ayni — balance through right-relationship — a power, greater than each can achieve separately, is created. This is wholeness.

In alchemy, fire is the essential ingredient. In this tradition, too, fire is the primary transformational tool used to transmute old, limiting beliefs and patterns into power: more conscious awareness. Fire ceremonies serve this purpose. Our breath is used to imprint relative trusts that hold us back from being fully unconditional in our relationships and engagements onto sticks or other sacrificial natural and combustible element of nature so they can be released to the fire and alchemically turned to “gold,” ayni.

Hut near main entrance

As Machu Picchu is about to close for the day, we hasten to retrace our steps towards the main entrance into the park. After retrieving our stored items, we learn that the plan is to hang out at the snack bar until the last bus departs for Agua Caliente for the day.

The heat of the day quickly dissipates as the sun sinks behind the mountains. Considerably cooler now, I add layers of clothing in anticipation of our evening work ahead. Knowing dinner will be late, I gratefully eat the sandwiches made at breakfast. Chocolate is passed around. Marco goes behind the snack-bar and turns on music. Some of us start dancing. Soon others join in. A conga line starts. Moving. Twirling. The energy of Machu Picchu carries us. Laughing. Enjoying and celebrating life. The moment. Even at 8,000 feet, dancing can be exhausting!

Nighttime Ceremony
Finally, the time has come. The sky is completely black. Little by little a few stars become visible as our eyes adjust. Walking quietly, solemnly back to the entrance gate, our evening passes are stamped. Retracing our steps back to the agricultural section, we head up a steep, narrow set of stairs. This, I remember, was the way Marco led Rick and me to the Death Stone nearly four years ago! The stairs are unevenly spaced and follow the contour of the hillside. Headlamps on, we climb up and up as the trail winds to the right and left. It certainly feels I am exerting more energy moving around in the dark, perhaps due to not being sure of my footing. Or, perhaps, not being able to see my destination. Is that a key metaphor, I wonder?

After a while we arrive at the Watchman’s Hut. Several candles are lit and we are told, “Tonight, you will die.”

We are told medicine people believe it is essential to transcend the mythology of death as finality. To do this requires dying to all of our attachments — the good, the not so good, and the bad ones.

The Watchman's Hut during daylight

Only in this way, they say, can we live life to the fullest. This tradition holds the story of our timeless self — Cosmic Twin — who contains all of our history over multiple lifetimes, as well as the sum of all our pachas (cycles) in this lifetime. The Quechua word for our Cosmic Twin is waykey for males and panay for females. It is through this aspect of self that shamans communicate with the archetypal forces associated with their three world cosmology — Upper, Middle, and Lower. Andean shamans have traditionally mapped their transpersonal nature at the Death Stone.

Tonight, at Machu Picchu, we are to die symbolically to our “ego” self so we can be reborn to the fullness of NOW without obstacles or frictions in life. This symbolic death allows for the possibility of moving past our impending engagements, promises, and fears — all of which feed upon our life-force. In dying, the most remote possibilities that can afford us the greatest wholeness become more probable. As a result, our consciousness expands and becomes less conditioned by everyday life. In the Inka worldview, by becoming twice-born, death becomes an ally. In other words, when our time comes to physically die, we will be prepared to do so gently and elegantly.

Having recently witnessed my mother-in-law's dying process, I yearn to do whatever it takes that mine can happen gently upon others and elegantly in having no resistance to passing beyond the veil of this reality and embracing whatever comes after.

Then, it is time to die.

In contrast, Amazonian shamans use ayahuasca — the vine of death — to break the bonds of ordinary reality and navigate through the various stages of death to see their impending engagements and fears within an animistic context. This is the process of dis-memberment.
Then lies the challenge of moving beyond their personal maps so they become available to explore the infinite and merge with Spirit. This is the process of re-memberment. At this stage of consciousness evolution, a shaman is fully available to embrace life unconditionally.

Alberto asks several people to assist — two at the “head” of the stone (North) to help the luminous body free itself from the physical; two at the “feet” (South) to nudge it out; one to help others up the three stairs, symbolizing the three world cosmology, to the top of the Death Stone; and another to help us down.

Sacred space is opened. For me, there is always an added intensity of magic and mystical power when ceremony is held outdoors under the stars. Perhaps the light of day lessens the energetic connection. It may be, too, that the Death Stone is across from the main cemetery at Machu Picchu, which contained embalmed bodies that were buried along with animals to help the deceased cross over the “bridge” to the Upper World (Hanaqpacha). Whatever, tonight it is especially palpable!

Those of us not assisting stand in a semicircle around the west side of the stone. Our "job" is to call in, through our singing, the winged-beings who will protect all of us within our sacred circle. I remind myself that it is absolutely essential to remain present in the moment. As our voices rise and fall softly together, more stars appear in the heavens, and the winged-beings begin their visible fire light display all around us.

Death Stone during daytime

After five or six people “die,” I walk up the three steps readying myself. This is not the first time I have “died.” In the past I have been unconsciously reluctant to completely “let go.”

Facing south, I hold onto my mesa and silently call upon the animistic forces of nature --Wiracocha, Pachamama,

Apu Machu Picchu, Apu Huayna Picchu, Apu Ausangate and Otorongo, the archetypal jaguar who is the master of relationships (life and death) to help me befriend death so I may be reborn — whole — tonight. Lying on my back with my head on my mesa, Alberto opens sacred space around me. Meanwhile, I direct attention to my breath. Breathing energy up from Pachamama, I shift through states of consciousness. Once my energy is strong and steady I visualize the portal at the crown of my head opening and creating an energetic union with the Universe. I know from watching others before me that while Alberto rattles and prays, he is unwinding each of my energy centers so my energy and physical bodies disengage. Simultaneously, the assistant at my feet nudges my luminous body while the person at my head helps it to set it free. This time, I feel separation, weightlessness, formlessness. I feel expansive. My consciousness seems to be everywhere and nowhere. I sense the absolute aliveness of the Universe and stillness. I experience the freedom of timelessness. The knowing that I am not my body. I sense the luminous threads that connect me to Universal Consciousness and know that I can literally die tonight by increasing my energetic vibration to transcend human form.

Deep within I hear a voice telling me that my work on earth is not complete. Tonight, I will become one with all creation for a short while only. The experience the sensation of return like falling from a great height. A sudden, soundless “thump” anchors my consciousness back into my body. I am aware again of my breath. I am told to breathe energy down through my body and ground it into Pachamama.

To disengage from the physical body is an experience beyond words, beyond my five senses. Emotion wells up within me. Sadness? No, gratefulness for having given myself the gift to “die” — especially to my relationship with Rick. As simplistic as that may sound, my co-dependent attachment kept me, in the past, from being wholly dis-membered. My attachment, too, kept me from being unconditional in our relationship, taking full responsibility for my part. And only my part. Alberto closes and re-informs my energy centers, and helps me stand up.

Legs shaking, I am helped down from the Death Stone and held very closely in a gentle yet firm embrace. The words “Welcome home” are whispered in my ear. Feeling a bit nauseous and wobbly, I need to be in contact with Pachamama, grounded to our sweet Mother Earth. Eventually I walk unsteadily back around the Stone to hold space for my allyu sisters and brothers. All I can think about is needing to reconnect more deeply to Pachamama. Tears streaming from my eyes, I look up at the night sky and know that I am part of the stars, the planets and the inky blackness. I look at the mountains silhouetted in darkness and know I am part of them, too. I need to move. One of my sisters comes over and embraces me. Looking in each other’s eyes, we nod our heads, smiling knowingly. Another joins us and we three become one — watching the moon rise over the Intipunku, the Sun Gate. Has there even been such a magnificent night!

I am in awe of Alberto as he performs this ceremony with impeccable intent and sacredness over and over. After completing the ritual for the last time, he, too, seems wobbly. The next ritual is to take place at the Principal Temple. Perfect. I feel grounded by the time we are ready to leave making our hike down the ancient, uneven stone steps much more safe.

Indulge me as I try to describe Machu Picchu at night. To say it is magical or other worldly, is not sufficient. Machu Picchu comes alive at night. Energies are awakened and dance all around us. We are not alone. The winged beings — wamani, kilkies and halkey malkeys — are all present. You can feel them lightly touching your skin, unimaginably whispering in your ears. Pinpoints of light flickering here and there. The sense of a presence behind you, but “nothing” is there. Here. Now. The veils between worlds are very, very thin. I feel like Alice stepping through the looking glass.

At the Principal Temple our ritual begins with offerings of k’intus to this sacred place. Then, stepping over a rope barricade we find places within the Temple to sit quietly, mesa in lap, and allow the energies within this Temple to speak to us.

I climb up onto an altar-like ledge along the longest wall. Sitting beneath the second niche from the left, I quiet my mind and pray to Pachamama to help me stay fully in my body and present to this experience. I ask Wiracocha, too, to help me wrap threads of luminous energy (cekes) from each of my energy centers around this Temple so my “reborn” energy body may be informed anew.

Principle Temple during daytime

Following the sound of my breathing, I journey to the Hanaqpacha (Upper World). Through unbounded consciousness I sense myself gathering energy. Transforming into a glowing ball of energy I sense my consciousness spinning through the cosmos, colors of all hues emanating from “me.” It is impossible to tell whether I am refracting the colors like a prism, or generating color from within. Beauty. Contentment. The Void.

Sometime later I sense the ball of energy gliding downwards. Slowly. Awareness of my breath returns. My body twitches and I feel something poking into one thigh. Opening my eyes, I notice others getting up and moving away from the Temple. Once fully back in ordinary consciousness, I ease myself down from this perch and rejoin the others.

Temple of the Condor

The last ritual of the night takes place at the Temple of the Condor. We are here to heal the complementary opposite aspects of ourselves — feminine and masculine. Forming a circle around the stone “body,” someone walks around with incense to clear our energy fields. Having set our intention, one by one we walk to the “head” of the condor and pour a small amount of water on its forehead so that it divides with some going to the condor’s right (masculine) eye and some to its left (feminine) eye.

When it is my turn, my prayer is to return to ayni — “Mother, Father, please help me to feel your presence and embody your teachings so that I create congruence in my life. Teach me how to refine my affinities so I may source from the saiwas and be in right-relationship within and without through my thoughts and beliefs, and through my actions. And, please, help me to open my heart so it is unconditional. Thank you mother, father for bringing me to this moment, this place, with these my sisters and brothers, and for all the blessings you bestow upon me. Hi-ya-ya!”

After sacred space is closed, we walk silently back towards the entrance gate. I am aware of a sweet contentment and peace that envelopes me. It is after 9 p.m. when we board the bus to take us down the mountain to Aguas Calientes. During dinner there is talk about going next door for more dancing — walking by, the music sounded really good. Tempted, my need for quiet and sleep to process all that has taken place, uncharacteristically, wins out. Tomorrow, I tell myself, there will be opportunity to dance in Cuzco.

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6/25/2002

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These is a sweet sadness in the air. I toast Ausangate with a steaming cup of matte de coca. A little sugar is added to sweeten my gratitude even more. Our last morning on the mountain is again clear and crisp. Women from the village of Pachapampa have trekked to our camp to set out their textiles and beadwork for sale. Amazing since it took us a minimum of five and a half hours in total hiking time to get here! One woman even carried her infant, who now suckles at her breast. Out of awe, respect and pure consumerism, the shopping mood is afoot. Nearly everyone is making purchases, including me. I buy a beaded bracelet from one woman, a beaded Q’ero hat from another. Even the medicine people pull things for sale out of their bundles. From don Mariano, I acquire a woven bag, which I will use to carry special stones called chumpi that are used to install “bands of power” and to rewire a person’s luminous energy field. Doña Bernadina and don Humberto show me a lovely, brightly colored Q’ero mestana cloth. “Forty dollars,” doña Bernadina says, in Quechua, as she writes the number on the palm of her hand with a finger. “A very good price.” I nod “yes” and gesture that I need to go get more money. Several minutes later, our transaction complete — $40 US — she gives me a very strong hug and kiss on my cheek, as does don Humberto.

During breakfast we learn that Francesco and the chosen others got off on time to deliver our collective mesa to Apu Ausangate. I linger over pancakes with berry jam.

Many photographs are taken. The separation process from Ausangate has started. Memories are captures. I, too, succumb to the urge. Then, the call goes out, “Time to pack up your gear.” Waves of sadness connected to leaving this holy mountain pass through me.

Our last morning on Ausangate

The Hike Back
As I take my leave, an aspect of my personality surfaces — I do not cling physically or emotionally during times of separation. Instead, I redirect my focus to what is ahead. It is a trait that served me well in the past, at least so I thought until I began my apprenticeship in this medicine tradition.

At that moment, I didn’t realize how strong the cekes or luminous energy threads were that connect me to Ausangate, the importance of my relationship to this mountain, or that Ausangate would call me back again and again.

Pack horses and those riding down the mountain coming behind those of us hiking.

What I did discover leaving the mountain was that I couldn’t just turn and walk away. I needed to stop and honor the emotional upheaval that was welling up within me. A little while later, still in sight of Ausangate, we all congregate for a closing ceremony of gratitude. The mountain, we are told, is not particularly gentle with everyone.

We are also told that Apu Ausangate's exceedingly good behavior towards us is acknowledgement of the personal energetic preparation we did prior to coming to this mountain. After the ceremony, which involves prayers and k'intus, I take a few more photographs before hiking to the hot springs.

Five of us set the pace. Each in our own thoughts, we hike in silence processing the experiences of the past days. The geology of the landscape captures my attention. It is a land carved by glaciers, sun and wind. Stark. Solitary. Time passes quickly as the distinction between the mountain, the landscape and “me” blurs.

Awareness that I can never be separated from Ausangate and this incredible place because it is imprinted in my luminous energy field fills me with joy. I know without a doubt our connection — not bound by time or space — is kollana: essential.

“How different is Apu Salkantay?” I wonder. Is the message within my dreams correct? Am I leaving reborn? Rewired? New? Filled with pure potentiality? Time — linear time — will reveal the answers.

Stone wall pasture enclosures begin to appear. Comforting to be getting nearer to the hot springs, which signals a “bath” and lunch. Though it seems like I have just eaten, I am hungry again. All the calories I am burning, I tell myself. Coming out of my reverie I notice Jerry ahead of me.

Turning, I see no one behind me. In this moment, within this vast open landscape, there are only the two of us dropping in elevation from one plateau to the next. Catching up, we stop for a water break and share a protein bar.

Having taken a different route down the mountain than we hiked up, we nevertheless find ourselves at a familiar landmark — the stone bridge. Dropping again in elevation, we spot the creek that must be crossed to reach the hot springs off to our right. We head in that direction and upstream to cross a land bridge. Then, another stream. This one is wider and more frothy.

A horseman calls out from the other side of the stream while waving us in his direction. Two others from our group, having taken a different route, are farther below and working their way back upstream. Together we make the great crossing. As I run to make an impossible leap across, I reach out to grab the horseman’s outstretched hand. Sheer will, luck, and assistance from every animistic force of nature as well as Apu Ausangate are the only explanations for how I reached the other bank without getting wet. Whew!

The mountain, which seemed so solitary such a relatively short time ago, is now full of activity as another group is camping where we were only three-days ago. From a distance, they appear to be teenagers.

Reaching the hot spring, I do not waste a moment to change into my bathing suit. The water is very, very hot. And, thankfully, I felt it before diving in. Gradually I enter. Hot, restorative water — what a perfect way to relax fatigued muscles!

Slowly, others from our group begin to arrive. Several walk over to a small store to buy lukewarm beers and sodas — quite refreshing in contrast to the hot water — while I and others pull out trail mix and assorted other snacks. Soon our “pool” party is in full swing. All that is missing is music.

Prism (center) bathing at the hot spring

Cheers go out as Francesco and those who accompanied him with our collective mesa hike in. They tell us their mission was successful just as a warning is sounded about staying in the hot water, at this elevation, for more than twenty minutes. No worries, we are all famished and still must hike a few more kilometers to the village for lunch.

The last stretch of the hike passes by a farm with a stone wall enclosed field blanketed with dehydrating potatoes that have yet to be walked upon to break the skins for further drying.

Just beyond a group of llamas — some with bright colored yarn tied to their ears like they are dressed for a party — watch cautiously as we hike past them.

Don Mariano, don Humberto, doña Bernadina and Francesco

Arriving in Pachapampa, we throw our daypacks into the small van before joining the others for tuna macaroni salad with peeled tomatoes. Yum! It has got to be the altitude, Joy and I joke, as we ask for seconds.

During lunch a collection of money is quietly taken, which is presented afterwards in a "thank you" ceremony for the horsemen and cooks who attended us so well. "Muchos gracias" is said over and over as the horsemen and cooks hug each one of us in genuine gratitude.

While the trucks are packed with our gear some of us take siestas while others shop for last minute woven and beaded goods. Then we are off.

The Road Back to Pisa’q
It is amusing to watch “our” now freed horses running alongside the vans as we head back to the town of Tinkay. Amazingly, each riderless horse veers off from the road, one by one, as it reaches its home, its work complete.

In Tinkay, my “sisters” and I head to the back-alley for a quick pee before transferring to our bus for the long drive back to Pisa’q. Suzi and I entertain each other, literally for hours, with stories about our lives and our families. I am grateful that our paths will keep crossing, at least while we continue to assist teaching one of The Four Winds’ Healing the Light Body classes. As the sun sets, our conversation ebbs. For the next hour, I find myself dozing in and out.

The short-cut that was previously closed when we left for Ausangate is open, according to a police officer at a road barricade. Before passing through, the officer checks our group’s official papers. The road is dirt, narrow, and in places almost nonexistent. We are jostled and bounced. Napping is no longer an option. In typical fashion, when a vehicle approaches from the opposite direction there are only inches of room to spare. There are also boulders and huge mounds of dirt along the road that seem next to impossible to circumvent, but our driver is very skilled and experienced.

Even though Suzi, Jerry, John and I ate a large lunch and have munched on homemade beef jerky, crackers and trail mix while on the bus, we are starving. As we cross the bridge into Pisa’q, the thought of a hot shower, sitting at a table for dinner, and sleeping on a real bed becomes all consuming!

But, first we must contend with the vendors in front of our hotel. As if by telepathy, they are eagerly waiting as we disembark the bus. Groggy, tired, hungry and stiff from sitting for so many hours, we “No gracias” our way across the street and into the hotel lobby to retrieve room keys. Making a quick plan to eat right away, we four beeline to the dining room. The straight-back wooden chairs never felt so comfortable. The menu is overwhelming, as are the electric lights and a choice of utensils. Even a private conversation involving the four of us, rather than the whole allyu, seems strange. We are tired, smelly, dusty and oh, so hungry for hot matte de coca, grilled trout with vegetables, and hot rolls with butter. My stomach gurgles with ecstasy!

Because John is not coming with us to Machu Picchu in the morning, we say our good-byes after settling our hotel bills. Suzi and I head back to our room for hot showers and repacking for the next leg of this adventure. Packing is quite easy — everything taken to Ausangate, except our hiking boots and poncho, stay behind. Task complete, I read another few chapters of my book before turning off the lights.

I wake sometime in the middle of the night wondering if I am lucid dreaming. I am lying on a flat rock. The rock, in fact, is one I had seen on my first trip to Machu Picchu four years earlier, and I often visualize myself lying on it when journeying to the Upper World (Hanaqpacha). Now I see my luminous energy body rising up and away from my physical self as if a magician were lifting it by invisible means. The physical aspect of ‘me’ seems unaware of what is happening as it continues to lie there peacefully. But, in a whoosh my energy body becomes a blur as it speeds away into the night. I have no idea where it is going, though my sense is it is gathering information before it reappears and settles back down and integrates with my physical body. The sensation of coming back in contact with my physical body is what awakened me with a jolt.

For the remainder of the night I lie awake in stillness. Exhilarated by the dream, my body is filled with energy and my mind is restless wondering whether I have the courage to completely “let go.” My ego torments me with reminders of the tenuousness of life. My life. Have I already “pushed” myself too far coming here? Having been diagnosed and treated for acute anemia before leaving on this trip, I have fared better than my expectations at high altitude — thanks to Pringle potato chips — and long hikes. But, if not now, when do I break through the illusion that has silently held me back and kept me in check almost my entire life?

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The Rainbow Lagoon

6/24/2002

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I have no idea when the actual dream took place, but upon waking it is as vivid and real as if it had just occurred. Quite honestly, it didn’t feel like a dream at all. Lying still burrowed deep in my sleeping bag, don Mariano’s words come back to me during his coca leaf reading — “All the visions I hold will manifest when I am at Apu Ausangate.” I know now, without doubt, that my personal journey requires me to more deeply work with both Pachamama and the apus — the feminine and masculine expressions of energy — to return to ayni: to heal on all levels, to evolve, to become whole.

The ritual at Otorongowarmycocha (Female Jaguar Lagoon) and the Moray Circles honored the rich, fertile potentiality of creation that I yearn to dance with in my everyday life. This “feminine” quality of energy feeds my creativity, nurtures my availability, and reminds me to be fluid and adaptive in my relationships and engagements. In complementary contrast, the ceremony at Otorongococha (Male Jaguar Lagoon) and don Mariano’s coca leaf reading

I know now, without doubt, that my personal journey requires me to heal on all levels, to evolve, to become whole — to return to ayni.

created portals for me to gain greater awareness of the matrix that connects me to all life. This “masculine” vibration of energy connects me to Spirit and to Pachamama, facilitates my ability to know through visioning and lucid dreaming, allows me to map consciousness through direct experience, and gives me the courage and strength to create relationships and engagements that are in alignment with my destiny. Clearly, mastery in both realms is essential to create right-relationship, wholeness, ayni. Is this not the principal of taqé, the archetypal expression of nuesta in action — the union of feminine and masculine, pure potential brought into form? Or, as the Q’ero shaman say, “The ability to grow corn.”

It is cold this morning. The sun has a way to go before it crests the mountains and begins to warm the air. Last night over dinner, several woman made plans to go back to Otorongowarycocha early this morning to hold ceremony and take a cleansing dip in its feminine-rich waters. Too cold for me! Instead, I join the Q’ero shaman to learn more about the ceremony and two rites of initiation that will occur later this morning.

Rites of Initiation
Rites of initiation are traditionally conferred after an apprenticeship that involves learning and mastering techniques and rituals. There are many different types of karpays. During the ceremony, a shaman of considerable power transfers a body of knowledge they possess (karpay) energetically to his or her apprentice. Often a metaphor of a “seed” is used to describe this transmission of knowledge: “seeds” are planted in soil (apprentice) that has been well prepared. Once planted it is the apprentice’s responsibility to nurture these “seeds” so they sprout (come into consciousness) and grow strong (are connected to kollana affinities) to create wholeness and well-being. As in gardening, however, not all seeds mature. Some rot in the ground. Others are not adequately nurtured so whither and die. And, others are eaten by birds and other creatures before they have an opportunity to grow. Throughout my apprenticeship I have received a variety of karpays, some again and again until I learn to become a more proficient steward of experience.

The first rite we are to receive this morning is that of the Altomesayok, which is connect to a body of knowledge associated with the Upper World and its archetypal forces of nature. These include spirits identified with holy mountains known as apu. I first received this initiation several years ago, while undergoing my initial training with The Four Winds Society, but like all initiation rites they are given repeatedly, "seeding" the possibility that the body of knowledge will be nurtured to “grow corn.” With this particular rite comes a bi-directional responsibility. When Spirit calls, one must immediately respond affirmatively. Conversely, Spirit answers when called upon.

The second rite we are to receive is the Musakmesayoq or the Rite of Becoming. “This,” don Humberto tells us, “is a new transmission that the Q’ero have recently received and want to pass along.” It is to prepare us for the Taripaypacha, which is understood to be the next stage of consciousness when culturally we move beyond the limitations of individual karma to that of group (allyu) karma. “The time when we meet our essential (kollana) Soul-Selves and are no longer bound to ego.”

Dressed in my black poncho, I sit in the ceremonial circle with my allyu brothers and sisters. The ceremony begins with mastay, the gifting of our prayers with k’intus for another’s becoming. The mestana full of coca leaves sits in the center of the circle. The more prayers we consume, the higher the vibration rises of our luminous energy fields.

When the frequency is sufficiently raised, we make a k’intu for each despacho. My k’intu for the altomesayoq despacho (offering) holds prayers that I may connect deeply to this medicine lineage, the apus and other forces of nature associated with the Upper World. Don Humberto creates this despacho with assistance from doña Bernadina. The k’intu for the musakmesayoq despacho holds a prayer for my Becoming, and is made by don Mariano with help from Francesco. The k'intus are then fed with dried legumes and grains to nurture our prayers; sugar and candies to sweeten our prayers; confetti to celebrate our prayers, as well as other metaphorical objects. Each despacho is so very different — like two different artists’ interpretation of the same landscape — yet the same at the most essential level. Both contain the high level (payan and kollana) affinities these medicine people personally hold to wholeness, fertility, ayni, and light.

Once the despachos are fully constructed, wrapped and tied with strings of red, we are cleansed by the shamans. Francesco cleanses my energy body first with his mesa. Bracing myself with a wider than normal stance, knees slightly bent, I await the thump on the crown of my head followed by the vacuuming and pulling-off of heavy energy (hucha) — front and back. Next, don Mariano bestows the Musakmesayoq Rite while softly reciting Quechua prayers. Doña Bernadina cleanses my energy body next. Tinkling her little bell over the crown of my head, she prays on my behalf to the archetypal forces as she scours my luminous energy body with her mesa. Lastly, don Humberto confers the Altomesayoq Rite. Stillness and silence descends upon our group. Then, as if on cue, we hug each other and the medicine people. A discernible glow surrounds our allyu. The power of this morning's ceremony percolates into the very depth of my being.

The Wedding
Quickly and imperceptibly we rearrange ourselves from one ceremony to the next. On the heels of receiving initiation rites, there is another type of union to be made — a wedding. The second wedding of this trip. The groom, resplendently dressed, plays a beautiful melody on a recorder. Ausangate towering behind him in all its majesty. Below where we are gathered along the lagoon’s edge, the bride, dressed like an Asian/Andean princess, sits astride a white horse led by one of our guides. The scene is storybook romantic. As the bride and horse approach, the groom steps forward to help her down. Thus begins the symbology of their union.

This ceremony is much different from the one just three days ago at the Moray Circles. For one thing, it is much more planned and there is no active participation by the Q’ero medicine people. Four members of our allyu, representing each of the cardinal directions, give blessings. I find the vows amusingly like a legal contract — one states a condition, and the other pronounces their acceptance. Back and forth they go. I surmise that the structure of the wedding vows was the groom’s idea since he is an attorney. Silently I wonder what Apu Ausangate has in store for this relationship.

Near the close of the ceremony, the groom invites us to pick a black velvet pouch from a container he is carrying. Inside each is a necklace of fused glass with a stamped silver disk, which was made by the bride. The one I chose, or rather was chosen by, is stamped with the image of a hummingbird. Perfect. In the Inka cosmology, hummingbird represents one’s connection with this ancestral lineage, reminds us to drink deeply from the sweet nectar of life, and to be fully negotiable so we can change course in a flash.

Alcacocha — The Rainbow Lagoon
It is afternoon by the time the ceremonies are over. Quickly we eat lunch and ready ourselves for the trek to Alcacocha — the Rainbow Lagoon. At about 17,500 feet in elevation, I pack a wind jacket, gloves, wool hat in my daypack, along with my mesa, water, a protein bar, camera and extra memory card. Not knowing what the terrain will be like or how I will feel at an even higher elevation, I decide to ride one of the Peruvian horses rather than hike. Besides, we have less than four hours to reach the Rainbow Lagoon, hold ceremony, and return before the sun sets.

“Good Boy” is the name of my chestnut brown Peruvian horse. Thankfully, he has a saddle, albeit not a comfortable one, and stirrups. Many do not. Quite a number of others opt to ride, too. Deceptively, the steepest part of the journey is at the beginning, from our campsite at 14,000 feet to the plateau above.

Stone pasture "fencing" on the plateau

From this vantage, several homesteads can be seen in the distance with alpaca and llamas grazing in pastures delineated by stone walls. The holiest of feminine mountains — Salcantay — can also be seen in the far distance. Ausangate's complementary opposite holy mountain, Salcantay's medicine teaching is about being in relationship with wild, chaotic feminine energy.

In the back of my mind, a thought keeps swirling around. Before leaving for Peru, someone who had previously made this journey remarked that before she came someone had told her to be prepared for a moment while riding when all she would be able to do is put on a big grin and think to herself, “OK, Mr. deMille, I’m ready for that close-up now!” The trail seems so benign I wonder what she was possibly talking about. Then it appears. Not what I had expected at all. In my imagination, I believed that the trail would become impossibly narrow and barely hugging the side of a precipitous mountainside. Weeks before the trip, I had watched the movie “Himalaya,” and in one scene the characters are trekking with yaks along a precipitous trail that hugs the side of a mountain with a lake below. In the movie, the trail gives way and a yak falls to its death. In order for the others to go on, the trail needs first to be repaired. That is what I imagined this expedition to Ausangate would be like. Wrong.

The challenge is a short, but very steep scree slope that at the top of the pass narrows. It must be negotiated. There is no way around it. While going up will be an adventure, I instantaneously realize the return trip will involve skiing scree on horseback! “Oh, Mr. deMille, I don’t know if I’m quite up for this!” I say to myself.
There is no time to pull out my camera and capture the moment. This will be a Zen experience — coming and going! The horse and rider in front of me begin their ascent. I watch carefully since she is a much more experienced rider than I. After whispering a few encouraging words to “Good Boy,” I dig my heels gently into his sides while saying, “OK, let’s go.” Reigning him slightly to the left, I then cut back to the right to minimize the steep ascent and lessen the possibility of “Good Boy” losing his footing. It is not until we have made it over the top of the pass that I am aware of holding my breath. I let out a silent “Yippee!” not wanting to startle the horse and rider behind me. From here, the trail gradually descends several hundred feet, to a stone hut.

We are ecstatic to learn that don Mariano Turpo is here. Several days ago, we were told that the 96 year old “Keeper of the Rainbow Lagoon” was not well, and had left the mountain to get medical treatment. It was, at the time, unknown whether his health would permit his return while we were here. As I discovered, it is an arduous trip from here to town. I cannot imagine making the journey at his age, let alone in ill health!

It is considerably colder at this elevation. Reaching into my daypack, I quickly put the wind jacket over my polar fleece jacket and add a wool hat and gloves. Movement is slower, too. I am very aware of my heart pumping, and lungs expanding and contracting as I walk over to the ceremonial circle by the stone hut.

Colca Cruz

The views from here are fabulous — Alcacocha is several hundred feet below, and towering above is the holy mountain Colca Cruz. I am thankful for the potato chips, coca leaves, and herbal supplements that have helped my body stay hydrated and oxygenated. I feel good. Granted, I didn’t hike the more than 3,000 feet in elevation today, but nonetheless I am grateful for my body’s stamina and well-being.

Seated in the ceremonial circle with us are don Mariano and his grandson, who is taking care of him. Though it is very cold, we sit quietly in stillness — each of us holding impeccable intent to connect to our essential nature (waykey) that is incorruptible and in concert with creation.

Don Mariano Turpo seated third from left

Sitting on the cold and hard ground, I am struck by the intent of this frail, shaman elder who lives so remotely to maintain this portal to our star brothers and sisters. One by one, we kneel on the flat rock in front of don Mariano with our arms outstretched holding our mesa. When it is my turn, the “Keeper of the Rainbow Lagoon” leans forward to bless me and my mesa, and then hands me a gift — a kuya or stone of power from this sacred place. Curiously, it has been shaped by nature to resemble a llama.

After everyone has received a blessing and gift from don Mariano, an egg-shaped rock is passed around for us to imprint with a personal prayer that will be carried by the wind to the star people. My prayer seeks assistance from Pachamama, Wiracocha, Apu Ausangate and Apu Colca Cruz, which rises above Alcacocha, to help me further open my mind, my heart and my availability so I step into the fullness of my essential (soul) being.

Walking a short distance to a large rock outcropping overlooking Alcacocha, I sense an energetic force stronger than I have ever felt before. Later I learn the source is known in Quechua as a huaca, “a sacred object or place.” These can be natural places in the environment such as the Rainbow Lagoon and Ausangate or man-made like the temples Jerry and I did ceremony at when we first arrived, or even a church. What distinguishes a huaca is that it contains “high-voltage” energy (kollana) of a magnitude that creates a portal to alternate realities that can shift a person’s luminous energy field to create ayni.

The Rainbow Lagoon from the vantage of the huaca

This particular spot overlooking Alcacocha is such a place, and it is don Mariano’s job, as “Keeper of the Rainbow Lagoon,” to ‘feed’ this huaca with prayers so the portal to our star brothers and sisters, and especially the Pleiades, remains open. Like us, medicine people come here in pilgrimage to add their prayers.

Using breath (kausay wayra), which is one of three expressions of life-force, prayers are imprinted on ordinary rocks and placed on a communal mound of rock (apacheta) that are found on top of mountains or mountain passes. Updraft air currents carry the prayers to the Upper World (Hanaqpacha) to reinforce a one’s connection to power, revitalize life-force (kausay), restructure the matrix of the luminous energy body, and renew and maintain his or her connection to Pachamama. Clearly, big medicine takes place at huacas.

As sacred space is created beside this huaca above Alcococha, my body literally vibrates with the energy of this sacred place. It is a surreal setting. My energy centers suck deeply from this energy, reorganizing the very essence (DNA) of my being. I am quiet and respectful, yet inside I am screaming out with joy!

Prism seated on the huaca

Blessed is the Universe that conspired to bring me here, to this place, to the extraordinary experiences that are of this lifetime — that have coalesced to open me up, break me down, and help me remember who I am.

My tent- and teaching mate Suzi above the Rainbow Lagoon

It is getting late, the light is changing and the mountains begin to glow. Rather than walking back to the horses, I feel as if I am floating. Unlike the ride up to Alcacocha, I am moving with the speed of my horse. We seem to be standing still, but the scenery keeps changing. In no time we arrive at the top of the pass. Without pause, or fear, I take “Good Boy” down the scree slope. No problem. I whisper words of gratitude for his sure-footedness while gently stroking his neck. He, in turn, snorts back “You’re welcome.” When Salcantay comes into view I pause to inhale, through each of my senses, her extraordinary beauty bathed in alpine glow. “I will come back to know you directly and experience your energy,” I whisper.

We arrive back at camp just as the last light of dusk fades into blackness. The smell of dinner cooking greets me. But first, there is a special fire ceremony to attend, on the bank of the Blue Lagoon, which is held annually by the local horsemen to welcome Pleiades back in the southern sky. After opening sacred space, in Quechua, they construct large squares of hay upon the ground. Each square represents an aspect of life: family, health, community, things they are thankful for, and things they would like to manifest. One of the horsemen tells us that Apu Ausangate is their holy mountain, and provides them with everything — water to quench their thirst and that of their animals, to irrigate their crops and provide fish and stones to construct their shelters, walls and bridges; and tourists such as us. “Everything,” the horseman underscores, “is provided by Ausangate.”

With that preamble, the squares of hay are lit and singing and dancing begin. We are invited to join in the celebration of thanksgiving. It is a joyous celebration! As we dance, the moon rises over Maria Huamanlipa. So sweet, so beautiful. I dance with several horsemen. I dance with Suzi. I dance with Jerry. I dance with Ausangate. I dance with the stars. I dance with the Pleiades — the storehouse for the “seeds” of vision. I dance with the Universe. I dance until there is no “I” — only the energy of the dance, held in the blackness of this cold night at the foot of my beloved benefactor mountain.

Dancing at 14,000 feet is no easy feat for someone who lives just above sea-level. By the time all the hay has turned to ash, I am out of breath, and my heart is beating wildly. With many thanks all around, I head back to camp and dinner — hot and delicious soup. I opt for two bowls and nothing more. An announcement is made that after throwing coca leaves, the medicine people have determined that tomorrow Francesco will be going, on behalf of us all, to a huaca farther up Ausangate to leave a mesa that will contain one kuya — a stone that has been initiated with power — from each of our mesas. Three from our group will accompany him only to the top of the moraine. They will leave by 4:30 a.m. so they can meet us at the hot spring for lunch.

I know immediately which of my kuyas it will be — my female jaguar stone — a reddish stone shaped like a heart. The medicine teaching for me that is held in this stone relates to receiving and expressing love in everything I do, mirroring for others the love I feel inside, and unconditionality. Not surprisingly, the energetic connection I have to this stone is attached through my heart (munay) energy center. With a prayer of gratitude for all that this kuya has taught me and a kiss, I place the stone in our allyu’s collective mesa. I feel light. My heart sings. There is no more appropriate place to give my “heart” than to Ausangate.

Though tired, today’s work is not yet done. I collect what little kindling can be scrounged from the kitchen tent and a bit of hay left from the horsemen’s fire to light my own small ceremonial fire to burn the despacho that don Humberto and doña Bernadina created for my spiritual evolution while in Pisa'q. It is difficult, at this altitude, to light a fire. Silently, I call in directions and begin singing a medicine song or ikaro. I sing while waiting for the fire to burn hot, then, after placing the despacho on the fire, turn my back while it burns. It is impossible to prolong my ceremony for long because there is not enough fuel to keep the fire burning. It is a just after 9 p.m. when I return to our tent and hug Suzi goodnight. We agree, it has been another extraordinary day!

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Ausangate Base Camp

6/23/2002

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Gorgeous morning! The sky is clear blue and air is still crisp. At over 12,000 feet, it's not surprising the temperature overnight dropped well below freezing. I'm grateful that I decided not to bring my injectable meds with me as the temperature variations would not have been desirable. As it was, I slept with my camera batteries in my sleeping bag so not to drain them from the cold temperatures.

Suzi stirs next to me. Our quarters are cramped, so we take turns putting on our clothes before opening the tent. Others are also beginning to rise. Across the creek at the kitchen tent, hot water and matte de coca are being served. I make a beeline in that direction, and down several cups of the hot elixir along with vitamins and herbal supplements.

Jerry heads off to do his morning QiGong practice on a tufted grass island growing between two branches of the glacial stream. In the background, Ausangate looms regally. Cup in hand, I and a few others join him for what becomes our morning ritual on the mountain. As we begin the prescribed breathing and movement patterns, the sun rises over the nearby hills and warms our faces. What a way to start a day — energy flowing strong and smoothly. We end our QiGong practice with a group hug.

Back at camp, we join Alberto and others for a morning breathing practice. My breathing is slow and shallow, an effect of the altitude. More energized, we head to the dining tents for breakfast — hot cereal, eggs, rolls and more matte de coca.

Fortified, it is time to change into hiking clothes: a tank top, long-sleeved shirt, lightweight pants, wool socks and liners, hiking boots, and a wide brimmed hat. Suzi and I disassemble our tent after packing up our gear for the horsemen, and outfitting my daypack with protein bars, camera and extra memory, notebook, pen, sunscreen, mesa, polar fleece jacket, gloves and a wind jacket.

Don Mariano Apasa with Ausangate in the background

While we wait to be sure the horsemen collect our gear, I photograph nearby. Soon, it is time to set off on today's hike to what will be our base camp. Those in our group who opt instead to ride horseback follow as soon as the horses are packed and ready to go.

Hiking to Base Camp
The first water obstacle occurs almost immediately. We must cross a wide, fast-moving stream that carries glacial runoff from the mountains. Francesco crosses first and reaches a hand out to help steady me. From this point the trail gradually gains in elevation. I remind myself, over and over, to drink plenty of water since dehydration is a big problem at this altitude, and one that can be easily avoided. After an hour or so of hiking several of us stop for a water and snack break. Jerry, Joy, John and I hike at a similar pace. It is also a handy time to begin shedding a layer of clothing. Overhead a hawk soars, riding thermals it points the way. A messenger from Spirit or Apu Ausangate? Though the hike is not strenuous, the decrease in oxygen at this elevation makes conversation difficult. Just as well. I much prefer to be as present as possible to the experience, and besides there is already a lot to process.

I sense Apu Ausangate pulling me closer and the Q’ero gently pushing me from behind. I marvel, to myself, at how good and strong I feel. It is hard to believe a couple of weeks ago a blood test revealed that I was considerably anemic. My thoughts dart to my husband Rick, and I send him a telepathic picture of this beautiful land. One day I hope to entice him here to see for himself.

The hike, we were told at breakfast, takes about five hours. Distance is measured by time, not miles. Though I have no idea how many miles will be covered in that time, it makes no difference. Perhaps we will be told at the end of the day. Approaching another creek crossing I am surprised and delighted to find there is a stone bridge wide enough for two. Lucky, since no one is nearby, and I would not have been able to jump across unaided.

Farther ahead, I see that the creek is fed by hundreds of river-lets that have transformed the hard, dry earth to moist and spongy soil. Llamas and alpaca graze in fields delineated by stone walls, and in the distance are several homesteads.

Joining up with don Humberto and doña Bernadina, we stop for a water and snack break by some large boulders before starting up another rise. Handing don Humberto a protein bar to share with his wife, he hides it away in this mastana cloth that holds all of his things. Later, I discover that he is a pack rat — saving all that he is given to share with his family and community when he returns home. My love for him increases exponentially!

Soon others join up with us. After 15 minutes we are off, again. From the top of the rise I see our destination — almost there I tell myself. Looking back I see the pack horses in the far distance, the riders following close behind. Farther back still are the rest of the hikers. After a short descent, the terrain becomes relatively flat along the far side of Azulcocha, the Blue Lagoon.

Our base camp for the next two nights is directly above the Blue Lagoon's far shore and beneath the watchful presence of Ausangate. Rather than the anticipated five hours, it takes our “mini” group only three hours to ascend to base camp. Since the pack horses are still lumbering up the altiplano under the weight of all our gear nothing is set up. Taking off my pack, I realize how perspired I have become. Not wanting to cool down too quickly, I dig in my pack for the shirt and fleece jacket shed only a few hours ago.

The energy of the mountain coursing through me makes it difficult to sit and relax. I cannot soak up fast enough this powerful energy that literally pulled me up the mountain. Retracing my steps back around the lagoon, I stare mesmerized at the majesty of Ausangate. This is the same face of the mountain I photographed four years earlier. The tingling sensation of energy moving throughout my body is pronounced, as is the sound in my ears. My entire body feels alive — activated — in a way that I have never experienced before. It is a sensation that is impossible to describe.

Base Camp on Ausangate

When I return, “camp” has been set up. In an area that is so expansive, it is incongruous that the tents are lined up in three rows like an urban subdivision.

While the “kitchen” is being erected and lunch prepared, I go off to work more with the stone that called out to me yesterday.

Throughout today’s hike I have continued to “blow” attachments that hold me in their grip of fear, keep me from actively engaging my life deeply, and lead to lifelessness. Later today this stone will be used in ceremony at Otorongococha, the Male Jaguar Lagoon, which is somewhere nearby. Quietly I go off on a walking meditation to explore the nearby stream that empties into Azulcocha. Its clear glacial water cascades over and between boulders, some quite large and covered with green and orange lichen. The bed of the stream is laden with small stones that have been polished by the water. A few sandbars are here and there.

I love rocks. I love to lie on them, feel their energy, and hear their stories. Many years ago, while backpacking for the first time in the Absorkee-Beartooth Wilderness in Montana, I lay back on a huge granite outcropping and spontaneously began journeying back in time. I know from that experience that our souls contain the evolutionary story of stone. So when, in this tradition, Andean shamans hold a medicine stone (kuya) to their ears to listen to the stories they hold, I know what they are listening to. I know this frequency of energy.

When I am in nature among rocks, I lose what little sense of time I possess. Like a canyon, this stream draws me along. Winding upwards, I am drawn to a massive boulder sitting in the water. Lying on my back with arms dangling towards the water, I open my heart center inviting Apu Ausangate to speak directly to me. Vibrations of energy run up and down my spine.

Needing to move, I am next drawn to an even larger boulder on the hillside off to the left. Taking off my hiking boots and socks, I wade across the icy cold water, stopping briefly on the other side to let the warm sun dry my feet before resuming my exploration.

Scrambling up the monolithic boulder, again I lie on my back. This time I open all three energy centers llankay (belly), munay (heart) and yachay (third eye) and invite Ausangate to reinform my luminous energy field. Energy, again, courses up and down my spine, and throughout my body. The tips of my fingers and feet especially tingle. Perhaps this is what a battery feels like when it is being recharged!

The growling in my stomach becomes persistent, and having brought no water or snacks with me, I head back to camp. After a late lunch, I ready myself for the afternoon’s adventure. My daypack is re-provisioned with plenty of water, a protein bar, nuts and chocolate, polar fleece and wind jackets, gloves, camera, notebook, mesa and the stone I have been working. At the appointed time, I join others to hike up the hillside behind camp. Rounding a bend I realize we are within throwing distance of where I explored before lunch. Had I continued a little farther, I would have “found” Otorongococha — the Male Jaguar Lagoon.Alberto, Francesco, don Mariano, don Humberto and doña Bernadina are seated downhill facing up towards the lagoon. The rest of us sit in a semi-circle with our back to the water. Otorongococha is absolutely clear with banks that drop straight down, reminding me of some of the geyser pools in Yellowstone National Park, without the thermal activity. The lagoon is said to be hundreds of feet deep.

Ceremonies at Otorongococha and Otorongowarmycocha
The youngest member of our allyu (group) opens sacred space. He does so beautifully. His words are heartfelt and come alive through his sincerity, passion and reverence for this tradition and its lineage. Afterwards, we are told that Otorongococha is a sacred site where Q’ero medicine people come to cleanse their luminous bodies by releasing heavy energies of lifelessness (hucha) that become attached to us. That, in fact, is the context of the ceremonies for this afternoon.

Stilling myself, mesa in hand, I quietly and reverently create sacred space around me. Holding the stone that called out to me yesterday, which now holds many stories and beliefs that stalk me, I use my breath to imprint one more attachment. Partnering with Suzi, I take her stone and use it like a lint brush to pick up and thoroughly cleanse any residue energy of her downloaded stories that may still be attached to her luminous energy field. I pay particular attention to her three primary energy centers: yachay (crown/third eye), munay (heart) and llankay (belly). She, in turn, cleanses my luminous body using my stone. When done, we place our respective stones on a mestana cloth that lies between us and the Q’ero shamans. With our back to the lagoon, they catapult these stones that hold our lifelessness into the water, all the while praying to Pachamama (Mother Earth) to receive and purify them — freeing us to create affinities of more power.

Power is a hugely important concept in shamanic traditions. It is not the same as knowledge. Rather, it has to do with our ability to create bi-directional connections through relationships and engagements. Power is acquired through availability, the degree of openness and unconditionality we have in our lives; our relationship to more refined and essential affinities such as ayni (being in congruence and right-relationship); passion without attachment to outcome; unconditional love; wholeness; Oneness.

Power is not the same as knowledge. It has to do with our ability to create bi-directional relationships and engagements.

The quality of energy we hold and are able to tap into — whether refined, heavy and dense, or somewhere in between — is completely dependent upon the quality of our affinities. Are they conditional or unconditional? Do they allow us to be negotiable and fluid or rigid and judgmental? Do they allow us to be expansive so we can grow our consciousness or to be close-minded?

I am continually learning from my teachers and these Andean medicine people to track the stories that inform my beliefs, limit my sense of possibility, and availability to life to their source so that I may see through these illusions, and open my heart. My stories have led me to the deepest recesses of my unconsciousness, where they have manipulated me like a puppet master. Little by little, story by story, I am pulling back the veils of relative truth to create affinities that hold more power.

In the Andean medicine tradition, energy and affinities are expressed in three qualitative ways. Kayao is the most common and least refined expression, acquiring form within time and space. Because it has form, this quality of energy and affinity is conditional, dense and rigid. Payan expressions of energy and affinities are fluid and can be transformed at will. It is, however, still held within time and space though less conditional and more negotiable. The most refined quality of energy and affinities is referred to as kollana. This expression is unconditional and, therefore, not limited by the perception of time and space. It is perpetually in a state of pure potentiality.

To understand these three expressions of energy more fully, let us use the metaphor of a house. The fixed walls of a house are expressions of kayao energy. They are dense and rigid, visible in time and space. The moveable windows and doors are akin to payan energy. While rigid and dense, they have the ability to move fluidly within space and time. The open yard, which has no walls, windows or doors would be expressions of kollana energy. Not defined by form, the open yard exists outside of time and space in a state of pure potential.

Similarly, we can understand better the three expressions of affinities by using the metaphor of a dimmer switch. Imagine you are in a windowless room. When the dimmer light switch is turned off the room is in total blackness. However, if you move the dimmer switch in the opposite direction the full power of possible light is “turned on.” In the same way, kayao expressions of affinities are like the dimmer switch set to off — what is attracted into our field is dark, dense and heavy. At the opposite end of the spectrum, kollana expressions are like the dimmer switch fully open — lightness and brightness is shed in every direction, without shadows cast. In the mid-spectrum of the dimmer switch — between complete darkness and total light — is the expression of payan affinities. These attractions are less dense, have more visibility, but still can cast shadows.

The Andean medicine tradition involves refining affinities so the quality of our relationships and engagements is exchanged primarily through payan and kollana affinities. As we become more powerful, no longer stalked by lifelessness, the finest expression (kollana) of life-force — illyapa — becomes available to us.

As if a physical weight has been lifted, a sense of lightness and lightheadedness sweeps through me. But, there is more work to be done.

Female Jaguar Lagoon

Climbing higher up the mountainside, I look down to be certain my feet are touching the ground. Unlike Otorongococha, which is situated on a flat bench, Otorongowarmycocha (Female Jaguar Lagoon) is cradled by the mountainside. Only the out-take falls away down the hillside.

Here our luminous energy fields will be purified through a cleansing ceremony (chuyaska) using water from this natural spring fed lagoon or paqarina. During this ceremony our three primary energy centers will be opened, cleansed, and energetically imprinted with this essential expression of the feminine and representation of Pachamama.

The sun sinks behind the mountains and the air becomes considerably cooler. One by one, we strip off clothes to expose our belly and heart areas. It is cold waiting to be cleansed. Straddling the out-take of the lagoon, Francesco cups some of the icy cold mountain spring water in this hand to cleanse my llankay energy center. To do this, he unwinds the energy center located at my belly counter-clockwise. A few steps to my right, don Mariano follows the same procedure as he cleanses my heart center. The water is unbelievably ice cold! Next don Humberto smears ice cold water onto the area of my third eye. Bending down, doña Bernadino drizzles some of the sacred water on the crown of my head, and then thumps and grinds her mesa into my scalp. She is very thorough, though not gentle!

Later, squatting by the side of the stream flowing out of the lagoon, I remove each of my mesa stones, and one by one imprint them with the pure crystalline expression of Pachamama. I also do this for the stones that have been imprinted with energy from Rick and two clients.

After redressing and adding a warm layer, we reunite on the opposite slope where a mastana filled with coca leaves has been spread out. We make k’intus — first, imprinting coca leaves with prayers for ourselves and ingesting them. Then we imprint the leaves with prayers and gift them to each other. Feelings of connectedness, love and well-being warm me, and a sense of expansion and fullness builds after consuming prayer after prayer after prayer. Doña Bernadino and I hug as we exchange k’intus, and before long everyone is smiling broadly and hugging each other. This is certainly a love feast!

Fully satiated with k’intus, we hike to the top of the ridge that overlooks Otorongowarmycocha. As the massive sun sets, it casts a beautiful rose glow on the far mountain — Maria Huamanlipa, the Falcon and unrequited lover of Apu Ausangate — which is reflected in the Red Lagoon below. Directly opposite, an almost full moon begins, simultaneously, to rise. In silent reverence, I drink deeply the beauty and perfection of this moment.

Maria Huamanlipa behind the Red Lagoon

Slowly the rose glow turns to dusky grey. I learn later that only for a few days, around the winter and summer solstices, can this phenomenon be seen.

Picking my way carefully over the uneven and rocky terrain, I make my way back to camp for a steamy cup of matte de coca, potato chips and dinner. Energetically filled-up, I head to our tent and the warmth of my sleeping bag. It is 8 p.m. What a glorious day!

The Dream Continues
Foolish me to think the day is over. The veils of perception are thin on these holy mountains, and easily parted. Lucidly, I dream myself again walking towards Ausangate. Nearing, the cave-like opening reveals itself once again. I walk into the hollow belly of the mountain, and like before transform into a large bird. Am ‘I’ the Falcon — Ausangate’s unrequited lover? As this thought surfaces, like air bubbles underwater, I see myself — the bird — rising up and circling round and round counter-clockwise on invisible currents. Up and up I soar. Higher into the mountain. The higher I soar into the blackness of Ausangate’s belly, the smaller the circles. The only sound is the whoosh-sh-sh of the air.

Suddenly, the mountaintop opens. I see the bird drawn up and out into the darkness of the night. A cry of joy emanates from the bird — me — while millions of stars twinkle all around. My outstretched wings transform into arms of a baby. My torso and legs transform, too. I am reborn. I am the girl-child of Ausangate! Mesmerized, I watch as the direction of my flight changes, spiraling clockwise. My body continues to morph taking the shape of a man, and then a wo(man) — half male, half female. Letting out a peal of laughter, a rainbow of color — red, orange, yellow, green, blue and purple — escapes my lips. Carried higher the streams of color braid themselves into one single strand of pure white. Floating. Free!

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A Return To Ayni

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Two Months Later

Last Day in Cuzco

Intipunku to Cuzco

Machu Picchu

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The Rainbow Lagoon

Ausangate Base Camp

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