16 October 2003 Thursday Puno

I awoke earlier than the usual 5:15 this morning, feeling really lousy ... scratchy, tight throat, achy body - all unmistakable, but rare for me, indications of impending sick time. Triple up on the grapefruit seed extract and EmergenC, Kels ... we still have our final sacred destination to go later in the day.

Stepping out of the bus, the early afternoon sun blazing down on my head like a searing hot iron, reminded me we were standing at over 12,000 feet above sea level. Covering my eyes from the noon glare, I gazed up to the top of the mountain (called Apus in Peru) in front of me, where we would be walking within minutes. It looked like another 1000 feet, at least, that we were to climb within the next hour to get to the top. Instinctively my hand reached for the full bottle of water I had stashed in my backpack to make sure it was there.

The image was of tenderness, support and courage for both of them.

My second thought was of our 83 year old Waiki companion, precious Katie. How was she going to manage this, I thought? The next thing I knew another Waiki, Jim, tall dark haired, perennial smile on his face, took her by the hand and led her slowly next to him, as if leading a small child.

During the next week we would see more scenes of courage, more images of the Great Mystery, move deeper into our internal Cosmos while connecting to the filaments, as Don Americo calls them - the threads that connect all of us to all of ... well EVERYTHING - everything seen and unseen - every spoken word that ever was and ever will be - to all that is ... THE ONE, of which we are a deep and critical part, whether we sense it or not. When I could no longer pretend that this was all a dream, a figment of my imagination, it was late in the day of our journey into Andean Apu Country, when my body was so completely exhausted that my mind and internal doubting dialogue couldn’t resist the magic and mystery any longer. Heaving to the ground, taking long, slow breathes to collect myself before I went into the third meditation of the day, the last image I saw was of Eagle Rock towering above me, casting it’s stony eye on the group below, already sitting in meditation poses around me.

Eagle Rock

My eyes closed, my breath relatively calm now, I sensed something strange happening with my body, as if my skin and the air were no longer separate entities, but one continuous flow of energy. As witness, we are asked to I simply watch and feel the changes, without judgment, without editing, and without question. Time ceases to function in this stage, so I will describe this without time lapses, as I don’t have any idea how long any of this took place. The Eagle Rock above me transformed into my actually being the giant escarpment, then I was transformed again into a soaring, living, breathing, cawing eagle, peering down on the group below me. I could see my own body and that of Carla sitting next to me. I could see the familiar earth colors of Pacha Mama and my other Waiki friends, each sitting in their meditation. I circled, twice, before being altered again, this time to tiny flittering hummingbird, my movement swift, erratic and yet extremely peaceful and joyful. Suddenly, I could hear whimpering sounds coming from Carla below. Some part of me heard this as if I were still on the ground, which of course I was in my earth, human body. I could feel the familiar physical sensations of concern. As if my thought gave way to instant physical change, I found myself enter Carla’s body to assess her well being. What I saw were the "dark skinned beings" she was encountering (as she shared with me a bit later) and, sensing all was well, I returned to my body in time to hear the low, ancient hand whistling from Christian, signaling the end of our meditation time.

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