Yes, yes, yes! My trip to Peru was amazing. Beyond anything I had hoped for or could have ever imagined. I’ve been home for over three weeks processing astounding visions, insights, and realizations to see how they fit into my life…and I’ve just concluded that in many ways they don’t. My experiences were outside any reality that I have ever known and introduced me to a realm of possibility that requires my letting go of life the way I’ve been living it. Scary thought. In order to embody the shift that I’m feeling inside, as well as trying to make sense of it here, I’ve taken on the epic task of examining my pages and pages and pages of notes…
so I will start at the beginning…
It was the first thing I noticed once we got onto the open road—the way the light illuminated the mountains. I had just landed in Cusco, Peru by way of Dallas and Lima, in the backseat of a taxi on my way to Pisac. I was exhausted and could barely see straight after my overnight flight from Chicago, but this was so startlingly beautiful, that the light infused me. I used that jolt of energy to grab my phone and snap a few photos before settling into the long ride to my hotel, but when I checked them out the next day, none of the magic that I remembered was visible.
Pisac is in the southern part of the country, midway between the Pacific Ocean and Brazil. Considered the Sacred Valley, it’s very near Machu Picchu and is where my adventure begins. My first night there was a blur. Not only was I tired, but my body ached all over and I was developing a headache. Altitude sickness is very common in these parts and I had a full-blown case of it. The locals recommend coca tea as a remedy, but it wasn’t having any effect on me. To make matters worse, the hotel room was freezing and aspirin or meds of any kind were off limits. I was headed to a shamanic retreat on Monday and there are dietary restrictions that include foods, medications, and supplements. Other than the tea, the only treatment available to me was hot water and a bathtub. I soaked there most of the night to get some relief, but I was miserable.
Marginally better the next morning, I was determined to get out and go to the Sunday crafts market. I’m glad I did. The sun was shining on the mountains in that same special way. I tried my hand at photos again, but still couldn’t capture what I was seeing. The pictures looked flat and lifeless by comparison, the inner light was just not there. Delete, delete, delete. I did, however, catch this alpaca (or is it a llama?) in a courtyard of a home near the market. The scene made me smile and seemed absurd at the time, but compared to the visions in store for me, it was quite ordinary, indeed.
we’re off to see the shaman…
The group met in the hotel courtyard on Monday morning. An unlikely crew, from all over the world, but I knew that at the end of ten days, the experiences we shared would forever entwine us in each other’s stories. There are twelve of us, plus the organizers, Carolina and Pedro, who met in the jungle years ago when attending ceremony there. Having made a deep connection, they later returned to Peru to marry and make a life together, she from California and he from Brisbane, Australia. They live in a small town near Pisac with their daughter. Such lovely, caring people that you happily turn yourself over to their care and never worry about a thing. You know you’re safe.
Three of the couples brought their children along for vacation. There is a great deal of downtime to share and this is the first family retreat that has been offered. I’m skeptical about having three, two-year olds along and hope there are babysitters being considered.
The bumpy bus ride brings us to a lovely retreat center near Urubamba. Thank God! I can’t imagine doing this work in the jungle where conditions are primitive, bug infested, and uncomfortable–the ceremonies are tough enough as it is. The jungle healers are coming to us instead. The opening ritual, despacho, introduces us to a Q’ero holy man and his translator. Part of our diet, dieta, is coca leaves. Ingesting the extract of these leaves promotes clarity–something I’m hot on the trail of at this point in my life. He directs us to make two stacks of leaves and posit a wish on each leaf as we do so. We hand both piles to him as he blesses our wishes and adds them to his altar along with many other sacred objects. After much ritual, the elements of his altar are brought to the campfire as an offering to seal in the blessings–our hopes and dreams carried to the universe with smoke and flames.
Our Shipibo shaman arrives the next day. Maestro Adriano started working with plant medicine when he was eight years old, and began leading ceremonies at fifteen. Now in his fifties, it is impossible for me to imagine the sights and sounds he has witnessed during all those years of healing. Conversation isn’t part of these ceremonies, as he communicates with the medicine by chanting Shipibo songs, icaros, to activate its’ healing powers. Improbable, yes, but all I know is that as he made his way around the ceremony room, maloka, every night, the closer he came to me, the more I could feel it. By the time he was seated in front of my mat, I was in another world altogether.
I’ve seen the light…
It was in Amsterdam at the Rijksmuseum. We were on a tour with the Art Institute of Chicago and our small group was able to view the collection before the museum was opened to the public. My inclination was to run right down to the other end of the gallery to inhale Rembrandt’s famous Night Watch, but was sidetracked along the way by other treasures to be discovered and absorbed. A large group huddled around a very small Vermeer and disrupted my steady progress through the aisles.
All the art books, as well as my instructors, spoke so highly of his work—about his distinctive technique that no one was able to duplicate. I’d look at the photos again and again and just not get it. So what, a view of a harbor or a chubby milkmaid–what was the big deal? (see for yourself on the right) I was always partial to Botticelli myself, but as the crowd parted and I saw the tiny painting, his mastery was evident at last. I felt as if the milkmaid was living and breathing right there on the canvas, that I could reach out with my finger to splash the steady stream of milk flowing from her pitcher. Vermeer revealed the inner light of her being as well as the morning sun–you just have to be there to see it with your own eyes so you can feel its’ essence.
be here now…
I wasn’t able to capture the inner light of Peru in a photograph because to see it in all its’ splendor, I had to be here in person. The metaphor wasn’t lost on me–it made me wonder what illuminating experiences were yet to come, the ones that require I be present to incorporate them into my being. When darkness fell on the valley and we gathered in the maloka, would my true essence and inner light be revealed to me? It’s why I did this work and what I came here for. The road I’m on isn’t as recognizable as one paved with yellow brick, but I feel it’s a clear-cut path toward enlightenment just the same.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aYvs9cB3qVk