I’m getting ready to go to Peru. It’s a different kind of trip than I’ve ever taken before. No Four Seasons in sight.  No four-star spa. I’m not taking the hair dryer, curling iron, computer, power toothbrush or Clarisonic face scrubber. I’m also leaving the jewelry, high heels, and that special “packs well so you look great when you go out to dinner” dress at home…

…now you know this is serious.

I bought a backpack. Not the kind that you carry when you go site seeing to hold your water bottle, guidebook, and an extra pair of shoes, but a real honest to goodness North Face trekking pack. I’m not camping, but going to a shamanic retreat center in the Sacred Valley and then to Machu Picchu. I got the word from my daughter that “the rolling bag just won’t work on the cobblestone streets, mom, you have to get with the program.” So here I am getting with the program,

sort of like summer camp!

Back then, the packing list was mailed to my mother: three shirts, three shorts, bathing suit, bug repellent, flashlight, etc. They were very clear about what to bring and to pack it all in a duffel bag. I wasn’t even aware of what a duffel bag looked like, but found out my grandfather had one that I could borrow. And he had a sleeping bag. Why he had these things I will never know, as he never went camping as long as I knew him, but I didn’t dare ask. I was still in shock that my mother was actually letting me go. She said “yes”… and she never said “yes.” I was sure that even an innocent question would remind her of this, and the requisite “no” would leave her lips. Nothing would make me risk that.

I was nine, and had never been away from home without my family before. Heck, I had never been anywhere, really–with or without them.  The prospect of being alone was exhilarating. No parents, no grandparents, no brothers, no sister, nobody. Not even the kids I knew from home were in the same unit. I was going out into the world completely by myself to do stuff!

God bless the Girl Scouts.

As a girl who wasn’t allowed to go anywhere or do anything, I was both excited and scared at what lie ahead. There were four girls to a tent and four counselors to a unit. At first, the girls teased and made me feel like an oddball (I was), but the counselors were kind and understanding. No anger or judgment about what I didn’t know how to do. They were considerate of my lack of experience and patiently instructed me.   I became a grateful disciple. We sang, danced, hiked, cooked, cleaned, made handicrafts, and had swimming lessons. I excelled at all but the latter.

The outhouses, showers, and sinks were a short walk down the dirt path. The cement floor, exposed pipes, and long, tin trough with multiple faucets were more precious to me than solid gold fixtures fit for a palace. I loved every tree, each cup of grape “bug juice” and every bite of bad food. Despite the primitive conditions I felt cared for, safe,  happy, and most of all, understood.   They “got me” here.  Couldn’t I stay forever?

Jumping Jehoshaphat!

We awoke one morning to a strange noise. Opening the tent flap so we could see what it was sent all four of us screaming and running out. We looked back at a safe distance to see my grandfather’s duffel bag hopping around the tent! Despite the spooky stories we shared the night before, we knew it wasn’t a ghost, but just what had gotten in there? None of us were brave enough to look and ran to get a counselor.

Not even they would look inside, but kept the bag at arms length all the way to the maintenance shed. Seems a family of grasshoppers had taken up residence inside. Must have been a very large family to make the bag jump around like that. From then on we had a good story to tell and a common goal to make sure our duffels stayed zipped tight against any other wildlife.  My oddball days were over.

At least for the time being.

I guess I wouldn’t be taking this trip if I weren’t still an oddball of sorts.   Not too many women my age would set off alone for a destination where if the bag is hopping around the room, it has a better chance of being powered by a disembodied spirit than loads of grasshoppers. We’ll see…

Lewis Carroll knew it when he sent Alice through the looking glass and down the rabbit hole, “Curiouser and curiouser!” cried Alice (she was so much surprised, that for the moment she quite forgot how to speak good English).”  New places and experiences change your perspective.

According to Wikipedia, “shamanism is a practice that involves a practitioner reaching altered states of consciousness in order to perceive and interact with a spirit world and channel these transcendental energies into this world.   A shaman is a person regarded as having access to, and influence in, the world of benevolent and malevolent spirits, who typically enters into a trance state during a ritual, and practices divination and healing.“

See you on the other side!

I’m taking my cue from Alice, pushing right through to the other side of the mirror.   A total immersion into an otherworldly realm is what I need right now. A new perspective to spark creativity, build inner strength, and provide me with the insights necessary to live my life to the fullest. It worked that way when I came home from camp and it has time and time again throughout my life. Just like it did for Alice.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I54j4gYr6Fc