Riding the bus is quite an experience in Peru. Becky and I decided to leave the Cusco-Sacred Valley area for Lake Titicaca a couple of days ago. We decided to take a tourist bus because it would be more comfortable than the local bus, but somehow in the confusion at the station in Cusco, ended up on a local bus. Local bus means dirty. Local bus means you can´t go to the bathroom for 6 hours or so. Local bus means lumpy seats. And strangest of all, local bus means anyone who wants to sell something can jump on the bus at anytime and do so.
The first was a teenage boy who played a scallop shell like a washboard and sang some songs for us. He then walked up and down the aisle holding out his shell for money. Next stop he got off and on came a very clean and well dressed young man who proceeded to stand in the middle of the aisle halfway down the bus and address us passengers with great powers of elocution about the problems of alcohol abuse in Peru, and of how important it was to talk to your children, explaining that many parents never talked to their children because they worked so hard, and encouraging them to talk for just 15 minutes a day. I thought he was a Bible thumper, but he never really got too into Jesus into the converation, although it turned out one of the things he was trying to sell was mini Bibles, good for using when you needed something to talk to your children about. He also had a cd and booklet for kids with educational material in them and a book of ideas on how to make money. The very quiet and polite man next to me bought all of his stuff (10 soles, about 3 dollards) and I looked over his shoulder at the kids´book, which looked quite good and interesting. It made me remember how my friend in Lima told me that Peruvian schools were really bad, so maybe material like this is really needed. For awhile I thought the schools were so bad the kids were never in them until I realized they are on summer vacation now!
All kinds of food vendors jump on the bus when it stops, selling bread, empanadas, choclo with queso (corn on the cob with hunks of cheese), and sometimes popcorn. They yell out the name of what they are saying over and over as several of them push up and down the aisle, riding for awhile and then jumping off at the next town. I had seen a lot of sellers like this riding the bus in the Sacred Valley, but had not yet encountered a woman carrying an entire roast pig onto the bus until this trip. She and her friend, who looked to be about 20, got on the bus in the most obscure town, way out in the middle of nowhere with the pig which they proceeded to hack into pieces with a cleaver and sell to hungry passengers along with potatoes. They were also selling apple juice in plastic pags, but I couldn´t figure out how to drink it without spilling it all over myself! In any case, more liquid was not a good idea since going to the bathroom was out of the question.
Last, but certainly not least, was the very well dressed, very clean, very handsome young man who got onto the bus (wearing a tie!) and proceeded to address us about the nutritive benefits of maca, an Andean plant that has caught on big as a supplement in the US. I think Becky and I might have been the only people on the bus who knew what he was talking about, which was one of the points he made. I was very impressed with the way he spoke and with his political awareness of how important it was for the people from his culture to know what treasures they had, and to use them for themselves. I thought it was interesting that he had to explain the medical conditions he was explaining the plant was good for, like osteoporosis, and gave him a lot of credit for jumping on that bus trying to sell his maca powder. I was thrilled to buy some since I have been under the weather, but he didn´t seem to sell as much as the Bible guy.
Finally, we were approached by Oligario who was touting hostels on the bus. I hate to say that I´ve become wary of people trying to sell me stuff, but I have, so I was kind of discounting him until he pulled out a pamphlet for a really nice looking hotel and told us we could have a special deal. It seems like my aloofness payed off. He thought I was trying to bargain! When we got to Puno he found us a cab and escorted us to the hotel, which is quite nice . We are paying ten dollars each for a room in the US that would cost about one hundred. Puno, while rundown, and lacking the colonial charm of Cusco, is interesting to walk around in, cheaper, and filled with very friendly people. I think most tourists spend only a brief time here before jumping off somewhere else, so we have the city to ourselves as far as gringas go.
Off to the island of Amantani tomorrow for two days, then back to Puno for the Festival of the Virgin of Candelaria, one of the biggest of the year!
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Feeling the Silence
I drank ayahuasca again last Sunday in a very beautiful ceremony. I was much more prepared mentally for the experience, although I was still scared before the ceremony began. Alonso, the ayahuascero, said he is always scared before every ceremony, which makes sense, and which makes me respect him even more. At this point I can say which makes me love him even more. He is such a beautiful being who lives from his heart, who sees from the eyes of his heart and from what I have experienced, acts from his heart.
A friend of mine from Block Island came to the ceremony with me, as well as two other people I have met here. It was small this time, only the four of us, three apprentices of Alonso´s, a man from Taray, Alonso and his wife, and their one year old son. Before I went I wrote down the things I wanted ayahuasca to help me with, although I was prepared to experience whatever I needed to experience, since one of my intentions was to surrender to the divine I AM presence inside me, which sees beyond the needs of my ego to what my soul wants for me to grow into a deeper being.
One by one we knelt before Alonso and drank, then walked back to our seats on the ground in the same round room as the last time. Alonso began to play his music, which is so sublime. I settled into the ground and breathed and let my mind relax as the music washed over and through me. I could sense the medicine moving through my body, and then after about an hour it started to affect my consciousness. It is hard to describe what I saw, or at least what the ayahuasca dimension looked like, but if you have ever seen ayahuasca art with its geometric patterns and swirls and colors, then you can get a good idea of what I was seeing. However, the feeling of being in contact with beings from another dimension, very powerful, benevolent beings, divine entities, was more powerful to me than the way things looked, up until a certain point when I felt one of these beings "operating" on my third eye, one of the things I requested. This was not painful or scary, I just felt pressure in my forehead and knew that this being was helping me and I thanked it. From that point on I remembered that my friend Aymar told me that once you become experienced with the medicine it is possible to direct the journey, so I continued to ask the entities to assist me. All of the things I asked for were addressed as best as the plant could do at that point for me. One of the particularly painful things I asked to be released from was not resolved as fully as I wanted it to be, but the message I got from the ayahuasca was that the result I wanted was what my ego wanted, not what my heart wanted, or what my soul knew was the truth, so that I was going to have to continue to accept this condition and learn to open my heart despite the pain that it causes, and it is true, I know, that pain is one of the most powerful ways to learn about love, that I was being given an opportunity to fully accept all the ways that love can live within us without the attachments we so often insist on as conditions or definitions of what love is. All these messages came through me in images and feelings, very beautiful feelings of love. I was crying silently almost the whole ceremony at the beauty of what I was experiencing and at the love radiating from Alonso´s music, and from the others in the room. I had a powerful vision of Jesus Christ, and then a vision of myself with him in a past life. I also had a vision of a North American Indian man dancing who I knew was my husband in a past life. I asked to see myself with him, but looking back, I think I didn´t because I was looking for myself how I look now, not how I did when I was with him. I had many visions of animals, and also an incredible energetic transference from the earth in which I received energy streaming up into my first chakra.
The medicine also worked on us as a group as a whole, bringing up a social issue that is difficult for me. I was feeling uncomfortable and responsible for the people who I brought with me, which was also the case the first ceremony. Both times I actually only asked one person to accompany me, and the others just sort of came along, although I told them to call Alonso to make sure it was ok they came. Anyway, one of the conditions of participating in the ceremony is that you cannot leave until it is officially over. While we were still in the dark, someone came in with a flashlight and went up to Alonso, who stopped playing his music and came over to me and said that one of the people who came with me not exactly invited was leaving because their was something wrong. Alonso´s son had discovered him and came into tell his father. Alonso asked me to accompany him outside to talk to him. Needless to say, this was very disrupting to the energy of the group, both because the circle was broken, and also because the lights were lit at this point. I walked over to the house with Alonso, amazed I could and asked this person what was wrong, if he was ok. His answers were terse and fairly rude. Out of respect for his experience I do not want to reveal them here. Alonso asked him to come in for just an hour more. We told him we were worried about him and I asked him to come sit next to me and try to sleep, suggestions that were not met well. Finally Alonso told him that he had made a commitment and needed to come back in, which he did. I was able to walk back in and recenter myself as Alonso continued to play, and to my surprise, I realized that no one in the room was holding me responsible for this person´s behaviour. Alonso asked me to go because I spoke English and because he thought I would want to help my friend, which I did, even though he rejected my help. So he came back, although he left after about 20 minutes, before the ceremony was over. The rest of us continued on listening to the beautiful music by candle and firelight now, meeting each others´eyes and hugging each other until Alonso closed the circle and people drifted home to sleep, although I slept there on the ground again. I think what happened to this person was that the ayahuasca, which he had drank many times before, worked on his dark side and brought it out into the light, maybe in a way that he didn´t expect, because it sounds like his medicine ceremonies in the past were more hallucinatory in nature. I think this is a testament to the power and purity of Alonso´s use of the medicine, however. The disruptor was angry because he wasn´t tripping hard enough, which I think might have actually been the medicine he needed to bring him into a state where his dark side came out and he had an opportunity to integrate it within the ceremony in a way that he might not have expected.
In the end, it is surrender that is required, and surrendering to the heart, as I¨m sure many of you know, can be very painful, because our wounds must be faced, and felt again sometimes. I feel so grateful and blessed by the beings that helped me in the ceremony and for all the humans in the room with me, and grateful for having the strength to go back for another ceremony.
Many of you who read this appeared to me in the ceremony, everyone shining and in a state of love and grace, and I prayed for all of you and for the earth who allows us to walk on her belly, and for my Uncle, who has crossed over into the stars, too. I saw his face so clearly as he was in life and felt his peace and contentment with wherever he is. I thank all of you for journeying with me and look forward to deepening our connections as we all grow into what we need to be.
A friend of mine from Block Island came to the ceremony with me, as well as two other people I have met here. It was small this time, only the four of us, three apprentices of Alonso´s, a man from Taray, Alonso and his wife, and their one year old son. Before I went I wrote down the things I wanted ayahuasca to help me with, although I was prepared to experience whatever I needed to experience, since one of my intentions was to surrender to the divine I AM presence inside me, which sees beyond the needs of my ego to what my soul wants for me to grow into a deeper being.
One by one we knelt before Alonso and drank, then walked back to our seats on the ground in the same round room as the last time. Alonso began to play his music, which is so sublime. I settled into the ground and breathed and let my mind relax as the music washed over and through me. I could sense the medicine moving through my body, and then after about an hour it started to affect my consciousness. It is hard to describe what I saw, or at least what the ayahuasca dimension looked like, but if you have ever seen ayahuasca art with its geometric patterns and swirls and colors, then you can get a good idea of what I was seeing. However, the feeling of being in contact with beings from another dimension, very powerful, benevolent beings, divine entities, was more powerful to me than the way things looked, up until a certain point when I felt one of these beings "operating" on my third eye, one of the things I requested. This was not painful or scary, I just felt pressure in my forehead and knew that this being was helping me and I thanked it. From that point on I remembered that my friend Aymar told me that once you become experienced with the medicine it is possible to direct the journey, so I continued to ask the entities to assist me. All of the things I asked for were addressed as best as the plant could do at that point for me. One of the particularly painful things I asked to be released from was not resolved as fully as I wanted it to be, but the message I got from the ayahuasca was that the result I wanted was what my ego wanted, not what my heart wanted, or what my soul knew was the truth, so that I was going to have to continue to accept this condition and learn to open my heart despite the pain that it causes, and it is true, I know, that pain is one of the most powerful ways to learn about love, that I was being given an opportunity to fully accept all the ways that love can live within us without the attachments we so often insist on as conditions or definitions of what love is. All these messages came through me in images and feelings, very beautiful feelings of love. I was crying silently almost the whole ceremony at the beauty of what I was experiencing and at the love radiating from Alonso´s music, and from the others in the room. I had a powerful vision of Jesus Christ, and then a vision of myself with him in a past life. I also had a vision of a North American Indian man dancing who I knew was my husband in a past life. I asked to see myself with him, but looking back, I think I didn´t because I was looking for myself how I look now, not how I did when I was with him. I had many visions of animals, and also an incredible energetic transference from the earth in which I received energy streaming up into my first chakra.
The medicine also worked on us as a group as a whole, bringing up a social issue that is difficult for me. I was feeling uncomfortable and responsible for the people who I brought with me, which was also the case the first ceremony. Both times I actually only asked one person to accompany me, and the others just sort of came along, although I told them to call Alonso to make sure it was ok they came. Anyway, one of the conditions of participating in the ceremony is that you cannot leave until it is officially over. While we were still in the dark, someone came in with a flashlight and went up to Alonso, who stopped playing his music and came over to me and said that one of the people who came with me not exactly invited was leaving because their was something wrong. Alonso´s son had discovered him and came into tell his father. Alonso asked me to accompany him outside to talk to him. Needless to say, this was very disrupting to the energy of the group, both because the circle was broken, and also because the lights were lit at this point. I walked over to the house with Alonso, amazed I could and asked this person what was wrong, if he was ok. His answers were terse and fairly rude. Out of respect for his experience I do not want to reveal them here. Alonso asked him to come in for just an hour more. We told him we were worried about him and I asked him to come sit next to me and try to sleep, suggestions that were not met well. Finally Alonso told him that he had made a commitment and needed to come back in, which he did. I was able to walk back in and recenter myself as Alonso continued to play, and to my surprise, I realized that no one in the room was holding me responsible for this person´s behaviour. Alonso asked me to go because I spoke English and because he thought I would want to help my friend, which I did, even though he rejected my help. So he came back, although he left after about 20 minutes, before the ceremony was over. The rest of us continued on listening to the beautiful music by candle and firelight now, meeting each others´eyes and hugging each other until Alonso closed the circle and people drifted home to sleep, although I slept there on the ground again. I think what happened to this person was that the ayahuasca, which he had drank many times before, worked on his dark side and brought it out into the light, maybe in a way that he didn´t expect, because it sounds like his medicine ceremonies in the past were more hallucinatory in nature. I think this is a testament to the power and purity of Alonso´s use of the medicine, however. The disruptor was angry because he wasn´t tripping hard enough, which I think might have actually been the medicine he needed to bring him into a state where his dark side came out and he had an opportunity to integrate it within the ceremony in a way that he might not have expected.
In the end, it is surrender that is required, and surrendering to the heart, as I¨m sure many of you know, can be very painful, because our wounds must be faced, and felt again sometimes. I feel so grateful and blessed by the beings that helped me in the ceremony and for all the humans in the room with me, and grateful for having the strength to go back for another ceremony.
Many of you who read this appeared to me in the ceremony, everyone shining and in a state of love and grace, and I prayed for all of you and for the earth who allows us to walk on her belly, and for my Uncle, who has crossed over into the stars, too. I saw his face so clearly as he was in life and felt his peace and contentment with wherever he is. I thank all of you for journeying with me and look forward to deepening our connections as we all grow into what we need to be.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Las Turistas
I´ve been a bit of a tourist lately. A friend from Block Island has arrived in Pisac and we´ve been touring the Sacred Valley sites, which is good since I was getting in a bit of a rut here in Pisac. Paz y Luz is great, but it is hard for me to get in a creative flow living around people--my issue--I know that if I really want to create then I will raise my fear and move myself to a place where I can get in the flow that writing requires. I have been considering my willingness to live in this repressed state, wondering what it is inside me that is willing to tolerate the very uncomfortable feelings that arise when I don´t create. Is it that I don´t believe in myself enough? Could it be that I am scared of where my creativity will take me? The rut is safe. It is an easy place to be. Could it also be a message that a part of me is still willing to sacrifice myself for others by being too accomodating to their needs? Probably it is all of these things and definitely I should get out of my head and just be for awhile....
Which is why it is good to have Becky here, as she motivated me to change my scenery and shift my mood. We went to Cusco last week, in the car with Gray and Eva. There aren´t a lot of priate cars here, mostly buses and taxis, so it was fun to drive around in a big American SUV. Cusco is an international cultural tourism oasis, which means it can either be fun or horrible, depending on how you choose to see it. My first time in the city I was enchanted by the way it looked, but horrified by the hardsell to the tourists. Everything from fingerpuppets to massages. The second time, with three friends, I like the city more. We ran errands for Paz y Luz and bought cheap bootleg cds an ate Indian food and walked up to San Blas to eat dark chocolate--hard to find here as all the Peruvians seem to eat is milk chocolate.
A couple of days later Becky and I traveled down the valley to Ollayantaytambo, a very quaint town off the carretera that is still built on its Inka foundations. Becky toured the ruins which required a ticket, while I, who had alreay been there, walked around the quiet streets of the town, different from Pisac, which is all adobe or concrete and built by the Spanish as a grid. On the far side of the town, opposite the main ruins, I noticed a little sign pointing up to a path that ascened up toward another set of ruins, which I followed and had to myself high above the town. I sat on the ramparts and watched the people below and the waterfall pouring through the town towared the Rio Urabamba and felt quite content and impressed with myself for climbing up there, although I am finding the altitude much easier to handle.
Afterwards Becky and I met and had lunch at The Two Hearts Cafe, run by a 76 English woman who arrived in Peru with two suitcases and hasn´t left. She runs the cafe as a charity to help indigenous women and children in the area. She runs a kindergarten and a health program, which seems to be sorely needed. According to doctors who recently visited the school, all of the children were malnourished and all had parasites due to drinking infected water, and many of the women had severe gynecological problems. I have particularly felt the difficulty of the womens´s lives here. For all the talk about Pachamama here (mother earth), the women are treated like work animals and seem exhausted and from what I can see, not very happy, although this of course, is my perception and not necessarily true. The talk of Pachamama is definitely for the tourists sake and not embodied in the daily life of the people who I have seen, which is also evidenced in the lack of respect for the earth seen everywhere in the form of garbage in the rivers and sewage emptied into the sacred river. Becky witnessed a dead dog being thrown in the river the earth the other day.
I am aware that we from the ¨civilized¨nations have infected this culture with this disease, but this does not mean that we cannot all be held accountable for choosing a different way of relating to the earth. The infected and the spreader of the disease are in a relationship together, much the same as an alcoholic and a co-dependent. We all work together to create our individual realities an collective lives with every choice we make. Perhaps our task as the infector is to show(not tell) the infected how to live in harmony, thus spreading a new way to live, while at the same time learning from those we have infected, cocreating through the intellect and the heart, as the prophecy of the eagle and condor says we must do to reestablish harmony on earth.
The pain of the women was really brought home hard to us yesterday as we drove down from the Inka ruins of Moray, on the rolling mustard yellow plains above Urubamba. Once again in the giant SUV, we stopped to pick up an old Indian woman who flagged us down for a ride. In obvious pain, she was on her way to Urubamba below to have her last tooth pulled. She could barely speak Spanish, just Quechua, and when she showed us her tooth to explain what was wrong she started crying. Her pain and exhausting was overwhelming in the backseat with Becky and me. She was so tiny in her skirts and bowler hat, her face etched deep with wrinkles. Her whole presence just hurt so much. She kept wiping her eyes with the hem of her skirt an when Becky offered her a sip from her water bottle she very carefully wiped her mouth on her skirt first. We dropped her off halfway down with a Qyechua woman who said she would get her down to Urubamba as we were going on the salt mines at Salinas, but after that it was hard to enjoy anything, and I was having a hard time being in that big car with a bunch of chattering, well meaning people...I don´t know if it is that I am too sensitive, but I just kept sinking and sinking and not wanting to be anywhere, letting the past affect the present, but maybe I was being called so strongly to change my present reality that I could not, and should not have resisted this feelings-
Which sums up how I am feeling in general after being a self-indulgent tourist for a few days. If I am going to be here as a privileged person, at least materially, I have to work, to follow the call of my heart with discipline, whatever that call may be. I thought this meant I had to volunteer at an orphanage, or some such thing, but really when I feel my heart the call is to write, even if no one reads what I am writing. It is my call, the way to open my heart to be of greater service, and I feel such gratitue that I am in a position to be able to follow this calling, a feeling magnified by seeing how most of the women live in this country. Who knows what goes unexpressed in the lives of the women, and the men, in this country? I know from Peruko how hard it is to be different, how hard it was for him to follow the call of his soul to be an artist in a survival culture, and I admire him even more seeing where he came from.
So there are mountains to climb and rivers to praise, and there is work to do on the physical and spiritual planes. Both are vital if we want to live in harmony.
Which is why it is good to have Becky here, as she motivated me to change my scenery and shift my mood. We went to Cusco last week, in the car with Gray and Eva. There aren´t a lot of priate cars here, mostly buses and taxis, so it was fun to drive around in a big American SUV. Cusco is an international cultural tourism oasis, which means it can either be fun or horrible, depending on how you choose to see it. My first time in the city I was enchanted by the way it looked, but horrified by the hardsell to the tourists. Everything from fingerpuppets to massages. The second time, with three friends, I like the city more. We ran errands for Paz y Luz and bought cheap bootleg cds an ate Indian food and walked up to San Blas to eat dark chocolate--hard to find here as all the Peruvians seem to eat is milk chocolate.
A couple of days later Becky and I traveled down the valley to Ollayantaytambo, a very quaint town off the carretera that is still built on its Inka foundations. Becky toured the ruins which required a ticket, while I, who had alreay been there, walked around the quiet streets of the town, different from Pisac, which is all adobe or concrete and built by the Spanish as a grid. On the far side of the town, opposite the main ruins, I noticed a little sign pointing up to a path that ascened up toward another set of ruins, which I followed and had to myself high above the town. I sat on the ramparts and watched the people below and the waterfall pouring through the town towared the Rio Urabamba and felt quite content and impressed with myself for climbing up there, although I am finding the altitude much easier to handle.
Afterwards Becky and I met and had lunch at The Two Hearts Cafe, run by a 76 English woman who arrived in Peru with two suitcases and hasn´t left. She runs the cafe as a charity to help indigenous women and children in the area. She runs a kindergarten and a health program, which seems to be sorely needed. According to doctors who recently visited the school, all of the children were malnourished and all had parasites due to drinking infected water, and many of the women had severe gynecological problems. I have particularly felt the difficulty of the womens´s lives here. For all the talk about Pachamama here (mother earth), the women are treated like work animals and seem exhausted and from what I can see, not very happy, although this of course, is my perception and not necessarily true. The talk of Pachamama is definitely for the tourists sake and not embodied in the daily life of the people who I have seen, which is also evidenced in the lack of respect for the earth seen everywhere in the form of garbage in the rivers and sewage emptied into the sacred river. Becky witnessed a dead dog being thrown in the river the earth the other day.
I am aware that we from the ¨civilized¨nations have infected this culture with this disease, but this does not mean that we cannot all be held accountable for choosing a different way of relating to the earth. The infected and the spreader of the disease are in a relationship together, much the same as an alcoholic and a co-dependent. We all work together to create our individual realities an collective lives with every choice we make. Perhaps our task as the infector is to show(not tell) the infected how to live in harmony, thus spreading a new way to live, while at the same time learning from those we have infected, cocreating through the intellect and the heart, as the prophecy of the eagle and condor says we must do to reestablish harmony on earth.
The pain of the women was really brought home hard to us yesterday as we drove down from the Inka ruins of Moray, on the rolling mustard yellow plains above Urubamba. Once again in the giant SUV, we stopped to pick up an old Indian woman who flagged us down for a ride. In obvious pain, she was on her way to Urubamba below to have her last tooth pulled. She could barely speak Spanish, just Quechua, and when she showed us her tooth to explain what was wrong she started crying. Her pain and exhausting was overwhelming in the backseat with Becky and me. She was so tiny in her skirts and bowler hat, her face etched deep with wrinkles. Her whole presence just hurt so much. She kept wiping her eyes with the hem of her skirt an when Becky offered her a sip from her water bottle she very carefully wiped her mouth on her skirt first. We dropped her off halfway down with a Qyechua woman who said she would get her down to Urubamba as we were going on the salt mines at Salinas, but after that it was hard to enjoy anything, and I was having a hard time being in that big car with a bunch of chattering, well meaning people...I don´t know if it is that I am too sensitive, but I just kept sinking and sinking and not wanting to be anywhere, letting the past affect the present, but maybe I was being called so strongly to change my present reality that I could not, and should not have resisted this feelings-
Which sums up how I am feeling in general after being a self-indulgent tourist for a few days. If I am going to be here as a privileged person, at least materially, I have to work, to follow the call of my heart with discipline, whatever that call may be. I thought this meant I had to volunteer at an orphanage, or some such thing, but really when I feel my heart the call is to write, even if no one reads what I am writing. It is my call, the way to open my heart to be of greater service, and I feel such gratitue that I am in a position to be able to follow this calling, a feeling magnified by seeing how most of the women live in this country. Who knows what goes unexpressed in the lives of the women, and the men, in this country? I know from Peruko how hard it is to be different, how hard it was for him to follow the call of his soul to be an artist in a survival culture, and I admire him even more seeing where he came from.
So there are mountains to climb and rivers to praise, and there is work to do on the physical and spiritual planes. Both are vital if we want to live in harmony.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Day by Day
Lest you think my life in Peru consists only of scaling mountains and drinking medicine, I must reveal that most of the time I am simply enjoying the pleasures of being human in a beautiful place, surrounded by sympathetic and inspiring people who share a similar desire to explore the depths of our souls, as well as living in cooperation. Currently at Paz y Luz, there is only Eva, my incredible mountaineering Swedish friend, who at the age of 53, after giving birth to 6 children, put me to shame on our hike to Viacha--although she is far too kind to look at it that way. She just keeps telling me it is just that I am not used to the altitude, and Grey, from California, who is the new manager now that the owner has gone on a two month vacation to Argentina. The three of us have formed quite a little family already, sharing food and shopping duties, and enjoying each others company around the fire at night. It is wonderful to be around such positive people who share similar desires, something which has been lacking for me for a long time on Block Island as I have moved through letting go of my various addictions, first physical, then mental and emotional.
So daily life is full of ease and pleasure, although I can feel the mystical in it all. It has been interesting feeling the effects of ayahuasca on my thoughts and feelings since the ceremony eleven days ago. For example, it was very clear that ayahuasca wanted me to write that last blog describing the ceremony. However, I dont feel possessed by any entities. It is more like I have formed a relationship of mutual beneficence with the plant. It helped me with my need, which was to open my heart unconditionally to the experience of being human, and I in turn help it by spreading its message of forgiveness through my words and by embodying this quality. Of course it is a constant process. I am far from perfect, but feel myself moving into greater awareness of the pattern of my own thoughts everyday more and more, noticing how my judgments limit me, becoming aware of who or what irritates me and wondering what the underlying reason for these feelings are, seeing everything as an opportunity to grow.
One of the things that has been difficult has been reconciling the knowledge I have received of this spirit within the earth, a spirit of the underworld, where the past lives, with the energy I have been working with through the Ascended Masters for the past two years. This energy comes down from spirit, not from below, and is far different in vibration than the earth energy. Ive been wondering how they can all coexist, they seem so alien, but I know from my experience, that ayahuasca, too, leads to love, so I am following that love as it unfolds in such a beautiful and now, gentle, remembering. I have been very drawn to stones. I bought a turquoise ball and rose quartz egg, and I have my Manissees hand tools from Block Island with me, and when I hold them, I feel their energy working on me in even more powerful ways than before. In the past, I wanted to know what was happening when I held stones. Now, I am just grateful that something is happening. This shift feels like such a relief==not to long for something more all the time. Whatever comes to me is what I am supposed to know, although I will keep fulfilling my calling by working, by developing my own medicine powers in order to serve....
Yesterday I made sopa de quinoa, walking out into the rain to pick chard and cilantro and parsley from the garden. The mud here is thick and red and I had to scrape it off on the grass, and even then it didnt all come off so that I had adobe feet when it dried. Eva and I walked into town to buy fruit and bread and fresh yogurt, and stopped to chat with Francisco, a shopkeeper here who makes flutes and is an incredible musician. He is going to custom make a quena for me with a low tone, and he and I are going to trade music for English lessons. The quena is quite difficult to play as the mouthpiece is totally different to the bamboo flute that I now play, but Francisco assures me I will be able to learn if I practice, which is true of everything I suppose. He is quite suave and infatuated with Eva, which isnt so great since his wife just gave birth to their fourth child three weeks ago. He told her that he heard Swedish women were legendary lovers and wanted to know if she was interested in a dalliance with him. Fortunately he does not seem interested in a dalliance with me. Eva says she and her friends have goddess names for themselves back home, and she is Aphrodite, which makes sense considering the sexual attention she attracts. I suppose I connect most with the goddesses of the underworld==Persephone, Isis, Ishtar. Not so many are interested in dallying with death and the transformation it requires, which is just fine by me. I prefer to pass unnoticed until I choose.
A friend from Block Island just wrote and said she is actually in Pisac right now. Seems so strange and unreal. Off to find her now, and I wish you all well. I just looked at the new site for the Block Island Poetry Project, which is going to be extraordinary this year. Have a look at the site www.bipoetryproject.com, and I will see you there in April.
So daily life is full of ease and pleasure, although I can feel the mystical in it all. It has been interesting feeling the effects of ayahuasca on my thoughts and feelings since the ceremony eleven days ago. For example, it was very clear that ayahuasca wanted me to write that last blog describing the ceremony. However, I dont feel possessed by any entities. It is more like I have formed a relationship of mutual beneficence with the plant. It helped me with my need, which was to open my heart unconditionally to the experience of being human, and I in turn help it by spreading its message of forgiveness through my words and by embodying this quality. Of course it is a constant process. I am far from perfect, but feel myself moving into greater awareness of the pattern of my own thoughts everyday more and more, noticing how my judgments limit me, becoming aware of who or what irritates me and wondering what the underlying reason for these feelings are, seeing everything as an opportunity to grow.
One of the things that has been difficult has been reconciling the knowledge I have received of this spirit within the earth, a spirit of the underworld, where the past lives, with the energy I have been working with through the Ascended Masters for the past two years. This energy comes down from spirit, not from below, and is far different in vibration than the earth energy. Ive been wondering how they can all coexist, they seem so alien, but I know from my experience, that ayahuasca, too, leads to love, so I am following that love as it unfolds in such a beautiful and now, gentle, remembering. I have been very drawn to stones. I bought a turquoise ball and rose quartz egg, and I have my Manissees hand tools from Block Island with me, and when I hold them, I feel their energy working on me in even more powerful ways than before. In the past, I wanted to know what was happening when I held stones. Now, I am just grateful that something is happening. This shift feels like such a relief==not to long for something more all the time. Whatever comes to me is what I am supposed to know, although I will keep fulfilling my calling by working, by developing my own medicine powers in order to serve....
Yesterday I made sopa de quinoa, walking out into the rain to pick chard and cilantro and parsley from the garden. The mud here is thick and red and I had to scrape it off on the grass, and even then it didnt all come off so that I had adobe feet when it dried. Eva and I walked into town to buy fruit and bread and fresh yogurt, and stopped to chat with Francisco, a shopkeeper here who makes flutes and is an incredible musician. He is going to custom make a quena for me with a low tone, and he and I are going to trade music for English lessons. The quena is quite difficult to play as the mouthpiece is totally different to the bamboo flute that I now play, but Francisco assures me I will be able to learn if I practice, which is true of everything I suppose. He is quite suave and infatuated with Eva, which isnt so great since his wife just gave birth to their fourth child three weeks ago. He told her that he heard Swedish women were legendary lovers and wanted to know if she was interested in a dalliance with him. Fortunately he does not seem interested in a dalliance with me. Eva says she and her friends have goddess names for themselves back home, and she is Aphrodite, which makes sense considering the sexual attention she attracts. I suppose I connect most with the goddesses of the underworld==Persephone, Isis, Ishtar. Not so many are interested in dallying with death and the transformation it requires, which is just fine by me. I prefer to pass unnoticed until I choose.
A friend from Block Island just wrote and said she is actually in Pisac right now. Seems so strange and unreal. Off to find her now, and I wish you all well. I just looked at the new site for the Block Island Poetry Project, which is going to be extraordinary this year. Have a look at the site www.bipoetryproject.com, and I will see you there in April.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
Ayahuasca Medicina
Ayahuasca..........the name has the sound of serpent within it, a creature of beauty and ancient, instinctive terror for many, a poisonous creature who can kill, who can wrap its body around ours and strangle until their is no air left in our lungs, who is total annihilation......a creature who waits under rocks, who blends in with the trees, a creature who is sliding toward you right now in the long grass or in the muddy brown water, a creature that wants you.
Ayahuasca is known as the vine of souls, the vine of death. It is a potent medicine from Amazonia that has been used by jungle shamans as a medicine to heal the soul. Ayuahasca is a spirit that speaks through a plant. Ayuahasca is the medicine of forgiveness deeply rooted in the consciousness of the earth, the underworld where our past wounds are stored until we retrieve them, forgiving those who wound us, forgiving ourselves for being wounded, forgiving the wound because we know that it was necessary for us to realize we are whole. Ayahuasca has been calling me for several years now. Calling me to shed my skin. Calling me to reveal my shining beauty in the sun on a warm, flat rock, unafraid to be seen, calling me to awaken the serpent energy within to connect earth and spirit in the middle realm of my body. Ayahuasca, ayahuasca, ayahuasca......the name a rattle on the mountain, the hiss of a forked tongue, a shaman's rattle in a round, dark room.
I wanted to make this connection. I needed to make this connection. I moved toward this connection with instinct and inevitability like a river winding its way through thousands of miles of dense green jungle to the open air of the light anointed ocean. But I was afraid of ayahuasca, afraid to alter my consciousness because my beloved guide Maria had advised me that it was dangerous to do so, and I had stopped using substances to alter myself five years ago. No alcohol, no marijuana, no LSD, no mushrooms, and no real desire for any of them but ayahuasca, the vine of the soul, the medicine of forgiveness calling me to South America, to the land of the emerald hummingbirds to shed my skin once again.
But I have grown much stronger in the past five years through my work with Maria, both less and more vulnerable. Less vulnerable to having my consciousness overtaken by other people or entities, more vulnerable in the sense that my heart has grown deeper. I have more compassion for myself and others, and more clarity. I knew that it was my heart that was calling me to ayahuasca, not my mind, which I have seen is often the case with people who are not content with ordinary consciousness. They become spiritual thrill seekers, "trippers" who live for the next vision, and if they are not careful, they lose pieces of their soul bit by bit. It is necessary to have a strong container, a guide, a round basket to hold the snake while the music to awaken it gently enters the dark space with an invitation to dance, the energy slowly building to the moment we all want to know, the moment of the birth of our soul, the moment where the Milky Way is born, the moment where the universe uncoils itself, and the moment when we drop through the black hole in the center of our galaxy, the relief of death, the reassurance we know in our bones of its aweson and utter beauty.
I found the container through a friend in the U.S. His name was Alonso del Rio, an ayahuascero who I knew I could trust to guide me as soon as I heard his beautiful songs on a CD I bought from my friend, who frequently journeys to Peru to work with Alonso. On New Year's Eve I made my way to his home in a gulch not far from Pisac, where a waterfall pours off the mountain in a great torrent, cleansing and blessing the land and its people in a continual flow. At six o'clock I took my place in the round adobe room with a conical thatched roof. There were close to forty of us. A huge number for a ceremony. There was an altar built of adobe in the center of the room lit by candles. One by one we prayed our heart's desire and walked toward Alonso and knelt, who handed us a small glass of the medicine with reverence. I drank it, nervous, and walked back to my seat to lean back against the earthen wall. When everyone was done the doors were closed and the candles were blown out. We were in total darkness with nothing to hold onto, but we had Alonso's songs, which permeated the dark as the spirit began to wind through my blood and cells.
I had prepared my body by eating very little for four days before the ceremony, and for fasting on the actual day. Ayahuasca is a purgative. Its medicine works by causing one to purge negativity, or shadow energy. Sometimes this happens on a physical level. I was afraid of throwing up, of losing control of my body. We were each given a little bucket which I set in front of my feet to vomit in if the need arose. I was afraid, but sure I would not vomit. I would not lose control.
My intention was to open to being fully human and grounded in the earth. To experience unconditional love for the state of being human and for all humans themselves, something which I have struggled with my whole life as a sensitive person who has so keenly felt the imbalance and sickness of our world.
Alonso's guitar and voice sang his heart and the hearts of us all, and the hearts of the hummingbird and of the waterfall. He sang of shattered souls and of broken mirrors, and within his voice was the promise that all could once again be whole. I felt myself beginning to lose control, the medicine rushing through me like lightning, like a locomotive, something so strong I knew I could never control it and I began to panic a little, and wonder why I had done this to myself. I could hear, very close by, in my left ear, the voice of a very ancient woman speaking in a language I did not know, and then...... I was somewhere else, on the other side, but still in the same room, listening to Alonso sing and feeling the journeys of everyone around me. I felt peaceful, no longer afraid, and I realized I had thrown up on myself, but it was only the ayahuasca, a reassuring wetness on my chin that let me know I was still human.
To be human, that it was I had asked for. For the rest of the ceremony I sat in the dark filled with love, allowing Alonso's songs to soften my heart until I had no needs left to be fulfilled. I could tell the people around me were having far different journeys, seeing the visions I had expected to see, and my disappointment faded, too. After about two hours, Alonso lit a sparkler and said Happy New Year to everyone! The light was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, until his wife relit the candles, until the fire in the center of the room was kindled and we could see each other in the circle, cleansed, having forgiven whatever each one of us needed to become a little more whole. The music continued, more from Alonso, and from the people in the circle. Gentle drums and flutes, a song from Sweden, laughing songs, birdsongs, whalesongs, humansongs. I have never been so content in my life.
As I listened to the songs, more clear and lucid than I had ever been in my life when I had expected to be more confused, I felt so glad that I had overcome my fear and come to this ceremony, and so proud of myself for asking what was in my heart, instead of what my mind wanted, which was more knowledge. I felt an ancient, tribal connection to everyone in the room and remembered what it felt like to be at peace with myself and the earth, remembered what it felt like to have knowledge of the whole world without leaving the safety of one room because I was connected to everything outside of it, as were all those inside with me connected to all of creation. I felt such love for everyone there, and a little shy in my loving, like a young deer tentatively walking out into a field from the cover of the forest, called by the love within her own body.
Maybe I am not one who is meant to see visions, but to feel them instead, and to embody them in all of my actions from taking a breath to buying bread or smiling at a stranger when I walk down a street I don't know. I slowly allowed my body to sink down onto and into the packed earth floor as the circle began to grow larger, people walking out into the night, heading for home. My friend who had told me about Alonso was there that night, but we couldn't speak or make eye contact as he was on a month long retreat, but he knew I was there, and we fell asleep on the ground next to each other in the womb of the mother, and I felt his peace become a part of the peace that I was, and always will be, even if I forget. Ayahuasca, medicine of forgiveness, vine of our soul.
There are many here in Pisac and its environs who drink ayahuasca regularly, and who were ready for the next ceremony, and there were those more experienced than I who said to just listen if ayahuasca was calling me, then I would know when the time was right to drink again. I felt right afterwards that I did not want to drink again soon, maybe never, and slipped back into the fears of the mind right away, wondering if it was my fear that was stopping me, my own self doubt that has stopped me for so long from wrapping myself in the mantle of power that will allow me to be of best service to the world, a power that comes from the heart, truly earned. For about a week I went through these ups and downs, wondering if I wasn't strong enough, questioning why I didn't see visions, connecting with some of the beautiful people in the ceremony when I saw them around town, all the time calling on my own divinity to guide me to make the right choice. Last night I knew that it was not necessary for me to drink ayahuasca again right now, but I was also told that I could work with the plant in the spirit realm, that I didn't have to go through the violence of the physical ingesting of the plant in order to go deeper into my soul. I realized that I have already done so much work in the lower realm, or underworld, with Maria, much more than I know, and was able to see that many of those who needed to drink on a regular basis were doing the work that I had done with her in this manner, putting back together the lost pieces of their souls. I also received an invitation from ayahuasca to transmute the energy of the earth, to allow the plant to use me as an instrument to purify the darkness which is no longer needed in such great measure on earth because we are entering a time where we will no longer need to learn through contrasts, to return it home to the light.
We have learned so much from the darkness, but it is time to release this way of being on earth. We no longer need to suffer or sacrifice to learn. This does not mean we don't have to work, only that, if we are in alignment with our souls, that the work will be a pleasure, something that feeds us and others as well. My work today is to write these words to you, to share the medicine of forgiveness and the peace in my heart, and to show you my vulnerability, the tenderness inside me for each one of you, my compassion for myself, my ability to love my wounds and yours, my intention to embody the unconditional love that Jesus seeded on Earth two thousand years ago, which if flowering now within all of us. We no longer need a savior, we are the light, the flaming heart, the waters of forgiveness, the air beneath the wings of the eagle, all contained within these bodies whose feet are welcomed by the giving and forgiving Earth.
Ayahuasca, allow me to continue to let go with grace, to shine, to know, to love, to be an ambassador of peace. Mitakeye Oasin.....To All My Relations. I honor you. I love you. I am you.
Ayahuasca is known as the vine of souls, the vine of death. It is a potent medicine from Amazonia that has been used by jungle shamans as a medicine to heal the soul. Ayuahasca is a spirit that speaks through a plant. Ayuahasca is the medicine of forgiveness deeply rooted in the consciousness of the earth, the underworld where our past wounds are stored until we retrieve them, forgiving those who wound us, forgiving ourselves for being wounded, forgiving the wound because we know that it was necessary for us to realize we are whole. Ayahuasca has been calling me for several years now. Calling me to shed my skin. Calling me to reveal my shining beauty in the sun on a warm, flat rock, unafraid to be seen, calling me to awaken the serpent energy within to connect earth and spirit in the middle realm of my body. Ayahuasca, ayahuasca, ayahuasca......the name a rattle on the mountain, the hiss of a forked tongue, a shaman's rattle in a round, dark room.
I wanted to make this connection. I needed to make this connection. I moved toward this connection with instinct and inevitability like a river winding its way through thousands of miles of dense green jungle to the open air of the light anointed ocean. But I was afraid of ayahuasca, afraid to alter my consciousness because my beloved guide Maria had advised me that it was dangerous to do so, and I had stopped using substances to alter myself five years ago. No alcohol, no marijuana, no LSD, no mushrooms, and no real desire for any of them but ayahuasca, the vine of the soul, the medicine of forgiveness calling me to South America, to the land of the emerald hummingbirds to shed my skin once again.
But I have grown much stronger in the past five years through my work with Maria, both less and more vulnerable. Less vulnerable to having my consciousness overtaken by other people or entities, more vulnerable in the sense that my heart has grown deeper. I have more compassion for myself and others, and more clarity. I knew that it was my heart that was calling me to ayahuasca, not my mind, which I have seen is often the case with people who are not content with ordinary consciousness. They become spiritual thrill seekers, "trippers" who live for the next vision, and if they are not careful, they lose pieces of their soul bit by bit. It is necessary to have a strong container, a guide, a round basket to hold the snake while the music to awaken it gently enters the dark space with an invitation to dance, the energy slowly building to the moment we all want to know, the moment of the birth of our soul, the moment where the Milky Way is born, the moment where the universe uncoils itself, and the moment when we drop through the black hole in the center of our galaxy, the relief of death, the reassurance we know in our bones of its aweson and utter beauty.
I found the container through a friend in the U.S. His name was Alonso del Rio, an ayahuascero who I knew I could trust to guide me as soon as I heard his beautiful songs on a CD I bought from my friend, who frequently journeys to Peru to work with Alonso. On New Year's Eve I made my way to his home in a gulch not far from Pisac, where a waterfall pours off the mountain in a great torrent, cleansing and blessing the land and its people in a continual flow. At six o'clock I took my place in the round adobe room with a conical thatched roof. There were close to forty of us. A huge number for a ceremony. There was an altar built of adobe in the center of the room lit by candles. One by one we prayed our heart's desire and walked toward Alonso and knelt, who handed us a small glass of the medicine with reverence. I drank it, nervous, and walked back to my seat to lean back against the earthen wall. When everyone was done the doors were closed and the candles were blown out. We were in total darkness with nothing to hold onto, but we had Alonso's songs, which permeated the dark as the spirit began to wind through my blood and cells.
I had prepared my body by eating very little for four days before the ceremony, and for fasting on the actual day. Ayahuasca is a purgative. Its medicine works by causing one to purge negativity, or shadow energy. Sometimes this happens on a physical level. I was afraid of throwing up, of losing control of my body. We were each given a little bucket which I set in front of my feet to vomit in if the need arose. I was afraid, but sure I would not vomit. I would not lose control.
My intention was to open to being fully human and grounded in the earth. To experience unconditional love for the state of being human and for all humans themselves, something which I have struggled with my whole life as a sensitive person who has so keenly felt the imbalance and sickness of our world.
Alonso's guitar and voice sang his heart and the hearts of us all, and the hearts of the hummingbird and of the waterfall. He sang of shattered souls and of broken mirrors, and within his voice was the promise that all could once again be whole. I felt myself beginning to lose control, the medicine rushing through me like lightning, like a locomotive, something so strong I knew I could never control it and I began to panic a little, and wonder why I had done this to myself. I could hear, very close by, in my left ear, the voice of a very ancient woman speaking in a language I did not know, and then...... I was somewhere else, on the other side, but still in the same room, listening to Alonso sing and feeling the journeys of everyone around me. I felt peaceful, no longer afraid, and I realized I had thrown up on myself, but it was only the ayahuasca, a reassuring wetness on my chin that let me know I was still human.
To be human, that it was I had asked for. For the rest of the ceremony I sat in the dark filled with love, allowing Alonso's songs to soften my heart until I had no needs left to be fulfilled. I could tell the people around me were having far different journeys, seeing the visions I had expected to see, and my disappointment faded, too. After about two hours, Alonso lit a sparkler and said Happy New Year to everyone! The light was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, until his wife relit the candles, until the fire in the center of the room was kindled and we could see each other in the circle, cleansed, having forgiven whatever each one of us needed to become a little more whole. The music continued, more from Alonso, and from the people in the circle. Gentle drums and flutes, a song from Sweden, laughing songs, birdsongs, whalesongs, humansongs. I have never been so content in my life.
As I listened to the songs, more clear and lucid than I had ever been in my life when I had expected to be more confused, I felt so glad that I had overcome my fear and come to this ceremony, and so proud of myself for asking what was in my heart, instead of what my mind wanted, which was more knowledge. I felt an ancient, tribal connection to everyone in the room and remembered what it felt like to be at peace with myself and the earth, remembered what it felt like to have knowledge of the whole world without leaving the safety of one room because I was connected to everything outside of it, as were all those inside with me connected to all of creation. I felt such love for everyone there, and a little shy in my loving, like a young deer tentatively walking out into a field from the cover of the forest, called by the love within her own body.
Maybe I am not one who is meant to see visions, but to feel them instead, and to embody them in all of my actions from taking a breath to buying bread or smiling at a stranger when I walk down a street I don't know. I slowly allowed my body to sink down onto and into the packed earth floor as the circle began to grow larger, people walking out into the night, heading for home. My friend who had told me about Alonso was there that night, but we couldn't speak or make eye contact as he was on a month long retreat, but he knew I was there, and we fell asleep on the ground next to each other in the womb of the mother, and I felt his peace become a part of the peace that I was, and always will be, even if I forget. Ayahuasca, medicine of forgiveness, vine of our soul.
There are many here in Pisac and its environs who drink ayahuasca regularly, and who were ready for the next ceremony, and there were those more experienced than I who said to just listen if ayahuasca was calling me, then I would know when the time was right to drink again. I felt right afterwards that I did not want to drink again soon, maybe never, and slipped back into the fears of the mind right away, wondering if it was my fear that was stopping me, my own self doubt that has stopped me for so long from wrapping myself in the mantle of power that will allow me to be of best service to the world, a power that comes from the heart, truly earned. For about a week I went through these ups and downs, wondering if I wasn't strong enough, questioning why I didn't see visions, connecting with some of the beautiful people in the ceremony when I saw them around town, all the time calling on my own divinity to guide me to make the right choice. Last night I knew that it was not necessary for me to drink ayahuasca again right now, but I was also told that I could work with the plant in the spirit realm, that I didn't have to go through the violence of the physical ingesting of the plant in order to go deeper into my soul. I realized that I have already done so much work in the lower realm, or underworld, with Maria, much more than I know, and was able to see that many of those who needed to drink on a regular basis were doing the work that I had done with her in this manner, putting back together the lost pieces of their souls. I also received an invitation from ayahuasca to transmute the energy of the earth, to allow the plant to use me as an instrument to purify the darkness which is no longer needed in such great measure on earth because we are entering a time where we will no longer need to learn through contrasts, to return it home to the light.
We have learned so much from the darkness, but it is time to release this way of being on earth. We no longer need to suffer or sacrifice to learn. This does not mean we don't have to work, only that, if we are in alignment with our souls, that the work will be a pleasure, something that feeds us and others as well. My work today is to write these words to you, to share the medicine of forgiveness and the peace in my heart, and to show you my vulnerability, the tenderness inside me for each one of you, my compassion for myself, my ability to love my wounds and yours, my intention to embody the unconditional love that Jesus seeded on Earth two thousand years ago, which if flowering now within all of us. We no longer need a savior, we are the light, the flaming heart, the waters of forgiveness, the air beneath the wings of the eagle, all contained within these bodies whose feet are welcomed by the giving and forgiving Earth.
Ayahuasca, allow me to continue to let go with grace, to shine, to know, to love, to be an ambassador of peace. Mitakeye Oasin.....To All My Relations. I honor you. I love you. I am you.
Saturday, January 05, 2008
Voyage to Viacha
Hi Everyone,
So much has happened since I left only a month ago for Peru. I miss you all and thought I would write a little about what I have seen and experienced here so as to share with you and to process all I am learning about a very different way of life.
I am now in Pisac, a small village of about 2,000 people a little less than an hour from Cusco. Pisac is in the sacred valley of the Incas, carved out of the spectacular green Andes by the Rio Urabamba, and there are spectacular Inka ruins above the town.
Anyway, I got the idea when I was on top of the ruins that I wanted to visit the tiny Quechua village I saw in the distance across the air on top of another mountain. I was hiking down (in the dark without a flashlight, another story) I could hear people blowing on conch shells high above us and became even more determined to visit.
A couple of days later my new friend Eva told me she had met a man in town who lived in one of those villages and invited us to stay there for a night with his family. Eva´s friend Otarunga (Jaguar!) who owns a small and very special store in town featuring shamanistic products told us we must bring gifts for the family and that we could pay them by buying their handicrafts when we got there. He told us we should bring flour, sugar, oil, candy for the kids, and a lot of coca to pass out to everyone we met.
We set out early in the morning with heavy backpacks for our rendezvous with Saturnino, but he was not there. Otarungo informed us that this was normal, not for him, but for people in general in Peru, so we decided to start hiking up the trail toward Viacha ourselves. About 15 minutes up we ran into Saturnino and his son Freddy on their way down to meet us so we all turned around and started hiking up again. I figured the hike would take us about an hour and that I would have no problem at all, even with my heavy backpack, but as I am learning quickly, the distances in teh mountains are far greater because you can´t get there in a straight line, but have to switchback across the mountains and that the trails wind around and around until you can no longer see where you started or where you think you are going! Also, the Peruanas always underestimate how far distances are. They either really want our money, or don´t realize how hard it is for us who are not born in these mountains to hike the way they do.
Pisac is at 10,000 feet, the ruins at 11,000. Once we got to the height of the ruins I started having a hard time breathing. We stopped at a little hut where Saturnino´s father lived, totally alone, with a burro tied up in the hard next to the house. All the houses are adobe with thatched roofs in the mountains. The inside was a total hovel littered with garbage, and I will have to admit that I was horrified that he lived there. We gave him a fat bag of coca leaves which seemed to make him happy, but he seemed a very unexpressive person. WE could only tell he was happy because he began shoving handfuls into his mouth. I figured since we had reached his father´s hut that Viacha, Saturnino´s village wasn´t much farther, which Saturnino and Freddy confirmed. However, not much farther to them, was much much farther to me, who found it increasingly harder to breathe as we ascended. Also, it began to rain quite hard and the paths, which are always rocky and uneven became slippery. I discovered that the best thing to do was not to look at anything but the path, definitely not down! I was breathing so hard I lost all pride, my breath so loud little Freddy became concerned for me and wouldn´t leave my side. I don´´t think he had any concept of altitude sickness and thought I was having a heart attack. We stopped a lot and they showed us many medicinal plants along the way, and finally Saturnino said he would carry my pack. I refused at first because he was carrying a pack, too, but he said he was used to carrying very heavy loads, especially since he was a porter on the Inka trail, and he was not exaggerating, for he seemed to have no problem at all with the load. Eva, who has been here longer than me, had no problems with the altitude, or so I told myself! On a side note, Saturnino told us that the work conditions of the porters on the Inka trail are very poor. Very little food or sleep and terrible pay, so if any of you who read this ever go on the trail, please remember to tip the porters as generously as Saturnino treated us.
Up and up, we walked, far past the original villages I saw from the Pisac ruins. It got rainier and much colder. Even without a pack I could barely walk for about the last hour of teh three hour trip. I had to literally go one step at a time, getting lost in the rocks and the plants and just wishing we would get there and it would all be over!
Finally, we reached the village of Viacha. Freddy had run ahead and told his mother Luisa we were coming. The house was a bit of a shock. I knew they were poor, but to be inside a very poor person´s house is different than looking at it from outside, which has been hard enough for me in Peru. The house was about the size of a small cottage, with two semi-walls dividing kitchen and two other areas. We went into the kitchen and unpacked our gifts and met Freddy´s little brothers Javier and Alex, who made a mad grab for the lollipops and stared at us in utter amazement. It turns out we were the first people to ever visit their house! I don´t think the little ones spoke much Spanish, just Quechua. They were very shy, unlike Freddy who was quite an extraordinary person, I could tell. He had one of those personalities that would flower anywhere, I think, bright and funny and so kind, as was the entire family.
The kitchen was also the home of 15 cuy, or guinea pigs who scrambled all over the floor and competed for space by the hearth with a couple of cats and two lambs. We drank mate de coca and they made us a delicious thick soup with vegetables and beans and we warmed up a little before exploring their beautiful garden and the plain where they lived. Freddy was thrilled to show us the plants he knew and picked munu for us to make tea with (mint) and told us that tomorrow he would take us up even further to the lakes at the very top of the mountains. The views were absolutely spectacular. We could see many lush green mountains as far as the eye could see, with mist weaving in and out of them. The clouds were just above our heads! I think we were at about 14,000 ft.
After dinner Saturnino played his flute and Freddy accompanied him on a drum made out of coke bottle. When it was time for bed, they tried to give us two beds for ourselves, but considering their were only three total for the seven of us, we refused. Eva and I took one bed, a twin, the three boys another twin, and Saturnino and Luisa the other. I was glad to sleep with Eva as it was very cold. I kept hoping that we were the only ones who felt the cold because we were´n´t used to it, but they were cold, too, because they huddled up to the fire shivering, especially the two little boys. I kept wondering why they didn´t build another fireplace in the sleeping room. It didn´t seem like it would be expensive, since everything is built with adobe from the mud around them. Maybe they could only use firewood to cook with, as there were no trees around except for some eucalyptus further down the mountain. I don´t know, but it seems to me that many of the people are somewhat defeated by their poverty and the legacy of violence they experienced at the hands of the conquistadores, combined with the current racism they experience now. I can see how much of an American I am in my solution oriented way of thinking, in my belief that there is always a creative solution to any problem, and also how privileged I am to be white and American, even though I am at the bottom of the economic scale in the U.S., it is by choice, not because I have no choices or education.
Needless to say, it was very hard to sleep, accustomed as I am to comfort and privacy. Even worse was the fear that I would have to go to the bathroom in the night, which would require a trip out to the muddy yard in the pitch black darkness, in the rain. When Eva asked where the bathroom Freddy pointed to the yard. We thought he was joking at first, but then realized he was not. I would have been fine with an outhouse, or even a hole in the ground, but they really did go wherever they wanted, and no one used toilet paper as far as I could tell. Actually, I don´t think it was a common thing for anyone to ever remove their clothes. I understand now why the women always wear skirts.
In the morning, Freddy, Eva and I headed up towards the lakes. I, however, knew that I could not make it, and told them to go on ahead. I was exhausted and needed to be alone. I fell asleep on the ground and rested finally and woke up to the most beautiful silence. I don´t think I have ever been somewhere so quiet in my life. Even the cries of the burros and sheep seemed a part of the silence. I walked up to some great rocks risng out of the groudn and watched the animals walk up the hill toward me, slowly grazing. Llamas, alpacas, sheep, and burros. A woman shepherd came by with a baby on her back and another child in tow, spinning wool in her hands as she followed them up the mountain. She seemed shocked to see me. I really do believe we were the first foreigners to come to Viacha. I was feeling so sad there. I don´t know if it was the altitude or the lives of our new friends, but it hit me strongly. They live such a hard time. Saturnino and Freddy walk all the way to Pisac and back every day to work and hardly make any money. I turned belly down to the earth and asked Pachamama to absorb my sadness as fertilizer, as I read the Quero shamans advise, and I really felt a surge of energy move through me as I lay there. After awhile Eva and Freddy came down from the lake and we left for Pisac after buying some beautiful bags and mantas and belts they had made. They invited us back for Carnival in a month to dance with them, but I honestly don´t know if I have it in me emotionally to go there again. It was just so sad and hard to be there, which I think is the case because they seem to know hard their lives are, too.
I forgot to write that Eva and I became godmothers to Freddy and Alex! There is an Inkan custom that when visitor comes to the house they must cut the hair of the children and give gifts (now a little money) for their future and education. I cut Freddy´s hair and Eva Alex´s with some very bad scissors and the hair was put on a plate with many flowers and 10 soles each (three dollars) and wrapped in a manta. The children were so thrilled and I really did feel like Freddy´s relation afterwards. He and his sister who was so shy I never learned her name walked us back to Pisac, which was almost as hard as walking up because of the leg strength required, although this time I could breathe. The sister picked handfuls of munu for us the whole way down so that when we stumbled into town we had it stuffed in all our pockets and smelled quite fragrant!
It was an incredible, eye opening, and most of all heart expanding experience and I feel such a combination of emotions when I think of it all. Gratitude and sadness, and an awareness of how fortunate I am, and of how much I desire to be comfortable. I realized I am not as strong as I thought I was, which is good to know. I have so many other thoughts and reflections about this experience, but am tired of looking at this screen now. Perhaps if some of you write me back, either privately or on this blog, I can discuss more, but for now I say I miss you all. Suerte! Jen
So much has happened since I left only a month ago for Peru. I miss you all and thought I would write a little about what I have seen and experienced here so as to share with you and to process all I am learning about a very different way of life.
I am now in Pisac, a small village of about 2,000 people a little less than an hour from Cusco. Pisac is in the sacred valley of the Incas, carved out of the spectacular green Andes by the Rio Urabamba, and there are spectacular Inka ruins above the town.
Anyway, I got the idea when I was on top of the ruins that I wanted to visit the tiny Quechua village I saw in the distance across the air on top of another mountain. I was hiking down (in the dark without a flashlight, another story) I could hear people blowing on conch shells high above us and became even more determined to visit.
A couple of days later my new friend Eva told me she had met a man in town who lived in one of those villages and invited us to stay there for a night with his family. Eva´s friend Otarunga (Jaguar!) who owns a small and very special store in town featuring shamanistic products told us we must bring gifts for the family and that we could pay them by buying their handicrafts when we got there. He told us we should bring flour, sugar, oil, candy for the kids, and a lot of coca to pass out to everyone we met.
We set out early in the morning with heavy backpacks for our rendezvous with Saturnino, but he was not there. Otarungo informed us that this was normal, not for him, but for people in general in Peru, so we decided to start hiking up the trail toward Viacha ourselves. About 15 minutes up we ran into Saturnino and his son Freddy on their way down to meet us so we all turned around and started hiking up again. I figured the hike would take us about an hour and that I would have no problem at all, even with my heavy backpack, but as I am learning quickly, the distances in teh mountains are far greater because you can´t get there in a straight line, but have to switchback across the mountains and that the trails wind around and around until you can no longer see where you started or where you think you are going! Also, the Peruanas always underestimate how far distances are. They either really want our money, or don´t realize how hard it is for us who are not born in these mountains to hike the way they do.
Pisac is at 10,000 feet, the ruins at 11,000. Once we got to the height of the ruins I started having a hard time breathing. We stopped at a little hut where Saturnino´s father lived, totally alone, with a burro tied up in the hard next to the house. All the houses are adobe with thatched roofs in the mountains. The inside was a total hovel littered with garbage, and I will have to admit that I was horrified that he lived there. We gave him a fat bag of coca leaves which seemed to make him happy, but he seemed a very unexpressive person. WE could only tell he was happy because he began shoving handfuls into his mouth. I figured since we had reached his father´s hut that Viacha, Saturnino´s village wasn´t much farther, which Saturnino and Freddy confirmed. However, not much farther to them, was much much farther to me, who found it increasingly harder to breathe as we ascended. Also, it began to rain quite hard and the paths, which are always rocky and uneven became slippery. I discovered that the best thing to do was not to look at anything but the path, definitely not down! I was breathing so hard I lost all pride, my breath so loud little Freddy became concerned for me and wouldn´t leave my side. I don´´t think he had any concept of altitude sickness and thought I was having a heart attack. We stopped a lot and they showed us many medicinal plants along the way, and finally Saturnino said he would carry my pack. I refused at first because he was carrying a pack, too, but he said he was used to carrying very heavy loads, especially since he was a porter on the Inka trail, and he was not exaggerating, for he seemed to have no problem at all with the load. Eva, who has been here longer than me, had no problems with the altitude, or so I told myself! On a side note, Saturnino told us that the work conditions of the porters on the Inka trail are very poor. Very little food or sleep and terrible pay, so if any of you who read this ever go on the trail, please remember to tip the porters as generously as Saturnino treated us.
Up and up, we walked, far past the original villages I saw from the Pisac ruins. It got rainier and much colder. Even without a pack I could barely walk for about the last hour of teh three hour trip. I had to literally go one step at a time, getting lost in the rocks and the plants and just wishing we would get there and it would all be over!
Finally, we reached the village of Viacha. Freddy had run ahead and told his mother Luisa we were coming. The house was a bit of a shock. I knew they were poor, but to be inside a very poor person´s house is different than looking at it from outside, which has been hard enough for me in Peru. The house was about the size of a small cottage, with two semi-walls dividing kitchen and two other areas. We went into the kitchen and unpacked our gifts and met Freddy´s little brothers Javier and Alex, who made a mad grab for the lollipops and stared at us in utter amazement. It turns out we were the first people to ever visit their house! I don´t think the little ones spoke much Spanish, just Quechua. They were very shy, unlike Freddy who was quite an extraordinary person, I could tell. He had one of those personalities that would flower anywhere, I think, bright and funny and so kind, as was the entire family.
The kitchen was also the home of 15 cuy, or guinea pigs who scrambled all over the floor and competed for space by the hearth with a couple of cats and two lambs. We drank mate de coca and they made us a delicious thick soup with vegetables and beans and we warmed up a little before exploring their beautiful garden and the plain where they lived. Freddy was thrilled to show us the plants he knew and picked munu for us to make tea with (mint) and told us that tomorrow he would take us up even further to the lakes at the very top of the mountains. The views were absolutely spectacular. We could see many lush green mountains as far as the eye could see, with mist weaving in and out of them. The clouds were just above our heads! I think we were at about 14,000 ft.
After dinner Saturnino played his flute and Freddy accompanied him on a drum made out of coke bottle. When it was time for bed, they tried to give us two beds for ourselves, but considering their were only three total for the seven of us, we refused. Eva and I took one bed, a twin, the three boys another twin, and Saturnino and Luisa the other. I was glad to sleep with Eva as it was very cold. I kept hoping that we were the only ones who felt the cold because we were´n´t used to it, but they were cold, too, because they huddled up to the fire shivering, especially the two little boys. I kept wondering why they didn´t build another fireplace in the sleeping room. It didn´t seem like it would be expensive, since everything is built with adobe from the mud around them. Maybe they could only use firewood to cook with, as there were no trees around except for some eucalyptus further down the mountain. I don´t know, but it seems to me that many of the people are somewhat defeated by their poverty and the legacy of violence they experienced at the hands of the conquistadores, combined with the current racism they experience now. I can see how much of an American I am in my solution oriented way of thinking, in my belief that there is always a creative solution to any problem, and also how privileged I am to be white and American, even though I am at the bottom of the economic scale in the U.S., it is by choice, not because I have no choices or education.
Needless to say, it was very hard to sleep, accustomed as I am to comfort and privacy. Even worse was the fear that I would have to go to the bathroom in the night, which would require a trip out to the muddy yard in the pitch black darkness, in the rain. When Eva asked where the bathroom Freddy pointed to the yard. We thought he was joking at first, but then realized he was not. I would have been fine with an outhouse, or even a hole in the ground, but they really did go wherever they wanted, and no one used toilet paper as far as I could tell. Actually, I don´t think it was a common thing for anyone to ever remove their clothes. I understand now why the women always wear skirts.
In the morning, Freddy, Eva and I headed up towards the lakes. I, however, knew that I could not make it, and told them to go on ahead. I was exhausted and needed to be alone. I fell asleep on the ground and rested finally and woke up to the most beautiful silence. I don´t think I have ever been somewhere so quiet in my life. Even the cries of the burros and sheep seemed a part of the silence. I walked up to some great rocks risng out of the groudn and watched the animals walk up the hill toward me, slowly grazing. Llamas, alpacas, sheep, and burros. A woman shepherd came by with a baby on her back and another child in tow, spinning wool in her hands as she followed them up the mountain. She seemed shocked to see me. I really do believe we were the first foreigners to come to Viacha. I was feeling so sad there. I don´t know if it was the altitude or the lives of our new friends, but it hit me strongly. They live such a hard time. Saturnino and Freddy walk all the way to Pisac and back every day to work and hardly make any money. I turned belly down to the earth and asked Pachamama to absorb my sadness as fertilizer, as I read the Quero shamans advise, and I really felt a surge of energy move through me as I lay there. After awhile Eva and Freddy came down from the lake and we left for Pisac after buying some beautiful bags and mantas and belts they had made. They invited us back for Carnival in a month to dance with them, but I honestly don´t know if I have it in me emotionally to go there again. It was just so sad and hard to be there, which I think is the case because they seem to know hard their lives are, too.
I forgot to write that Eva and I became godmothers to Freddy and Alex! There is an Inkan custom that when visitor comes to the house they must cut the hair of the children and give gifts (now a little money) for their future and education. I cut Freddy´s hair and Eva Alex´s with some very bad scissors and the hair was put on a plate with many flowers and 10 soles each (three dollars) and wrapped in a manta. The children were so thrilled and I really did feel like Freddy´s relation afterwards. He and his sister who was so shy I never learned her name walked us back to Pisac, which was almost as hard as walking up because of the leg strength required, although this time I could breathe. The sister picked handfuls of munu for us the whole way down so that when we stumbled into town we had it stuffed in all our pockets and smelled quite fragrant!
It was an incredible, eye opening, and most of all heart expanding experience and I feel such a combination of emotions when I think of it all. Gratitude and sadness, and an awareness of how fortunate I am, and of how much I desire to be comfortable. I realized I am not as strong as I thought I was, which is good to know. I have so many other thoughts and reflections about this experience, but am tired of looking at this screen now. Perhaps if some of you write me back, either privately or on this blog, I can discuss more, but for now I say I miss you all. Suerte! Jen
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