Til Next Time

     What do you say when a chapter of your life comes to a close and a new era of living and thinking begins? Can it be so that I am still the me I left behind so many months ago, what grand changes have occurred in my life, what struggles have I witnessed, what boundaries have been surpassed? So many achievements bagged and sacked, and so many stories to be told that finding a starting point is rather bemusing.  What odds and ends have been tied and untied, how many peoples and cultures from around the world have slipped beneath my skin? My heart beats with an ancient, musical, melody reminding me of my past lives, how many have been lived, how old am I really?  I once believed in miracles and now I live in one, a man born again and changed forever. I went south on a journey to find myself, true happiness beckoned my existence, my smile will forever endure.

a new beginning

So I sit here pondering my last hours in South America. I escaped for a couple days to the quiet of a little valley called Samaipata to seek some space to reflect on these last eight months. What can I say to summarize the impact this experience has had on my life? It is impossible, so I will share with you a letter that is written specifically to one person, but whose message and words are for all of you. When you meet me next you may think that I am changed, and you will be right...and wrong. I will never be the same again, I have come too far and seen too much to be that person anymore. But I am still me, nothing could ever change that. So tomorrow when my plane takes off, I will cry- they will be tears of joy and tears of sadness, tears of memories we have shared and tears full of hope for the future. I am feeling so many emotions at once, yet my heart is calm. I am in a good place. This is a beautiful life and I am so happy to share it with all of you. This is not the end, but rather the beginning of the rest that is to come. This trip has affected me greatly and I am forever indebted to these lands and these people. I will be back and I will bring as many of you with me as possible. Salud! to the many more adventures that follow.....

Valle Sagrada

A photo account of Cusco and the Sacred Valley...

una carta de ayahuasca

el 25 de abril

A los queridos de mi vida....

Todo será bien porque he histo la luz adentro. He sentido el amor que nos rodea y que viene de nosotors mismos- de la Pachamama, de la tierra, las flores, los arboles, las rocas, las nubes, las estrellas, la luna, el sol, los animales. Todos somos uno. Todos venimos del mismo lugar y allá nos volveremos. Somos viejos- mucho más viejo que estos cuerpos. Hemos vivido juntos antes, en vidas pasadas. Todos llevamos lo que buscamos dentro de nosotros mismos-ya tenemos todas las respuestas que necesitamos porque ya vivimos estas respuestas, solo hay que despertarse, abrirse la mente y el conocimento volverá. Todo es amor. Nada más es importante. El amor nos protege. El amor nos guia, nos cuida, nos alimenta. El amor ilumina nuestro camino. Con el amor todo es posible, y cuando entiendes eso, el amor es simple.

Ombligo del Mundo

I sit with my feet dangling over the edge of the world. It's a crazy feeling looking down upon what the world might have been had the Incas prevailed. My body is full of mariposas. I feel rooted here on this rock wall, but my brain screams to get away from the ledge. I breathe deep and together we sing to the ancient sky, calming the mind and regaining control over the natural fear that threatens to rise as I look down into the valley far below. There is a pressure in my chest, it's the air eminating from this place. It's in the grasses, ferns, orchids, trees- every leaf and blade and petal permeate a soft energy into the oxygen they release; caressing you, filling your lungs with love and a desire to live. This energy is our lifeblood. But there is a denser energy that is pressing into me, trying to saturate me; it's coming from the mountains, massive cones and cubes of granite. Their enormity is humbling.
The tiny tourists below are reduced to an unproductive group of worker ants, much weaker that the warriors that used to roam this land. We are nothing against the power of the moutain, guardian of the Sacred Valley. Gentle savages made wilder by the jungle that covers them, hiding the secrets of the past and destiny of the future. Encircled by these beasts, their om penetrates every pore of my body, illuminating my heart, revealing its great capacity for love and perseverance in struggle. And slithering its way through the roots of it all is the river Urubamba; roaring with a prana that is the passion and endurance that sustains us all. From so far away its intensity is calming, though one must remain conscious that there is always danger at the edge of passion, there is risk that it will boil over, biting back at the land that tries to restrict it. But ¨life itself is risk¨ and without passion higher life does not exist.

Machu Picchu Rat Race

My body is dripping with sweat, beads falling down my eyelids. It is only 4 am, too early to be working this hard, but this is Machu Picchu. You can feel the competition in the briskness of the air and we are number forty-one, forty-two and forty-three in line.

Under the Stars in Colca Canyon

The moon is nearly full. We will probably be hiking towards Machu Picchu at its fullest. I have as many questions floating in my head as there are stars in the sky. It is not often we are blessed with a sky as clear and bright as this. Our faithful guide, Orion, is shining with strength. A shooting star races across the sky...then another. The sound of the river below is a soothing melody floating into my ears and washing over my soul. Maybe it´s because I grew up in a valley, but being in this canyon (the second deepest in the world) makes me feel at home. Clouds illuminated by the moonlight show off a zoo of animals. The ridges of the descending canyon look like faces of grandfathers past. I long to ask them of my fate, my purpose in this life. They would only slyly smile back, for I know that these are not questions to be answered by even the wisest of souls. These are for me to discover for myself. I sit in silence for a moment of peaceful solitude in the grass. Silence provides my mind a break from the busyness of thoughts. A burning excitement runs through my being. A calm warmth resides in my heart. My lesson here is patience. In time, the answers will come.

desert oasis

Steph San

Ica Desert

shredding sand gnar in Huacachina, Peru...

Cordillera Huayhuash

She soaked my soul to feel this life...


To be humbled is to succeed
To grow is to flower from one´s seed
Limit the follies and store the feed
Don´t let boundaries give way to heed

Dominance I thought was a man´s domain
Yet here She steers me, Strider on a rein
Pulling me down into a whirling drain
Forcing me to embrace the cold, sharp pain

"Mother please relent and quit this show
I repent, I repent, my heart is beating slow
Give me a chance and withdraw this flow
I´ll make it, I´ll make it, I promise I´ll grow"
But fierce with terror She held me below
I suffered, I choked, I stroked one last row

Indifferent and insipid She held me hand on heel
Dipping me like a Christmas parchment in a lake as cold and hard as steel
"Wake up you foolish boy, and grab this ship by stern and keel
If you want to master me, you must take the wheel

Odysseus was lucky and Achilles too
But I doubt that you stand with one of these few
Take your lance and step away from the pew
It is I, Mother, God who is in front of you

Act afraid, I dare, I´ll devour you
But make a stand I demand you to
It´s your last chance no more clues
Fight now or forever lose"

And I as solitary and solemn as I was
Stood up and fought for one last cause
For life, acceptance, and humanity´s laws
I straightened my back, I tightened my jaws

"Try me Mother," said I, "I am more than flesh and bone
I stem from within you and therefore I will not die alone
Freeze me, squeeze me, trap me on a snow-peaked cone
Do it I´m ready, there´s no reason to post-pone"

And as I charged into the eye of the treacherous storm
She disappeared with a wink and a grace of form
And left among the mountains soaked and torn
Crying out, a new man was born

Yohan

Travels AS a Burro .:. Santa Cruz Trek

 

Perhaps the biggest lesson of all came a few weeks after the trek, as I was writing the blog itself. This lesson was in non-attachment. Because this trek was so awe inspiring, I couldn't leave out many details. This being so, I spent at least eight hours writing the first entry. I was revising it for the last time when I accidently erased the entire thing. In the moments of panic that followed, I had no choice but to be present during my freak out. My notes, of course, I had thrown out the day before. After some deeeep breathing and support from Vern and Katie, I decided that I would try to re-write it. With Cuba Libre (rum and coke) in hand...here I go. Maybe the first attempt was too long anyway...

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Although the following may sound like a tale of unfortunate events (omitting the above paragraph), let me assure you that every minute was an adventure. Had things not unfolded the way in which they did, it would not have felt like 'our' trip. Strange and random occurrences seem to be the norm of our travels. And besides, the amazing untouched beauty we experienced, as written beautifully in Vern´s pervious blog, made it more than worth it, but it always does.

Stream of Consciousness

Parque Nacional Huascaran

Being in this place I feel closer to God, or what they call ´God´, than ever before. This is the essence of the PachaMama in all her glory, although the mountains do have an innate male quality to them; seemingly tough and unforgiving, looming distant and domineering over the fertile landscape below. Their initial impression is altogether menacing but I am incredibly attracted to them, drawn to their sharp features and jagged peaks shrouded behind a fog of mystery. Their energy pulsates, dancing with the feminine flow of the river as it curves gracefully along the valley floor. Sister streams cascade down from hidden springs; deep seeded tears of a man longing to be truly understood by those who come to witness his splendor. Few are courageous enough to endure his unpredictable temper and bone chilling storms, but those who commit their hearts to the journey are rewarded with the knowledge of his innermost secrets and lifted to a beauty that is known only to these silent giants of the earth; angelic kings crowned with a halo of snow. But ultimately a mountain cannot stand without the intricate root systems of the PachaMama´s grasses, shrubs, and trees; without her support he would crumble. So as the mist swirls blue overhead, perhaps it is simply being in the presence of this beautifully delicate relationship, this natural balance of masculine and feminine, that brings me closer to ´God´, closer to myself. Perhaps there is something in the overwhelming feeling that I´m being watched, not just by the cows but by the air itself...




Cebollapampa, entre Nevados Huascaran y Huandoy
jjv

Cotopaxi

At 9:00 a.m., on a Tuesday morning, Ehren and I, along with two Danes named Jacob and Chris, were picked up from The Secret Garden hostel by a touring company called CarpeDM  Adventures.  From the hostel we were taken to a mountaineering rental shop, here we acquired cramp-ons, ice-picks, snow pants, boots, etc.

Origami Alien

In Vilcabamba Ecuador I met a man from Saturn.
He sat atop a mountainside folding an origami pattern.

Paper Pegasus in hand, a tranquil look in his eye,

why shouldn't I believe him, why would he tell a lie?

¨Music comes from Saturn,¨ he whispered in my ear

and suddenly I realized it was his clarinet that drew me near

as I struggled up the spine
of that treacherously beautiful climb.

Kindness of Strangers

There are times during travel that the place itself does not make much of an impression, but rather it is the people you are surrounded by that define your experience. This was the case for us in Cuenca, Ecuador in which we spent four nights with the Scherr family. Through one of those ¨random¨ chance meetings, Jessica had met a Canadian lady in Canoa who was happy to put up five traveling gringos in her home in Cuenca. By the time we had arrived, she had family in town but gave us the contact information for another family that she was friends with.

Until next time...

                 

Yesterday was our last night with Nard in the group, our last week in Canoa and the first time the traveling foursome (Ehren, Jonas, Vern and myself) were surfing and sharing waves together. The sunset is my favorite time in Canoa and my favorite time to surf. Things seem quieter at this time. Like the waves this particular afternoon, the vibe in the water is playful and jovial.

Puerto Lopez

 The quiet and tranquillo town of Puerto Lopez is bordered on three sides by Machilla National Park. In the evenings, to the west, the sun sets slowly across the Pacific, a shimmering sea gives off the final pink and golden glows of light before darkness secretely steals in.   The beach here is long and drawn-out, it takes over an hour to walk from end to end.  The beach is cresent to the Pacific, the north and south points terminate into rocky slopes and the sand is clean except for in the middle near the center of town.

Chillin' in Canoa

Ehren and I took the night bus from Quito to Bahia which we were told was close to our destination of Canoa. We had no plan and no idea where we were headed, but so has been the way of Ecaudor so far. The bus ride was abnormally bumpy for us gringos in the back and the smell of cheap air freshners didn't help us feel comfortable but we arrived safely in San Vicente before la madrugada (dawn). We grabbed the first mototaxi that passed and made our way to Canoa in the dark, with the smell of ocean air heightening our intrigue of what we were to discover come day time. We knew little of the surf and fishing town but hoped for prospects of work and board. We first found Olmito Hostel where our friend Nard was staying and then found hammocks to finally get some peaceful sleep.

San Agustin

Stars shine like pearls in a black sea over the mountains of San Agustin. The night air refreshes the senses after long hours of the the sun drenched day. Birds quiet their singing and are replaced by an orchestra of crickets and frogs. The moon illuminates the white clouds that drift overhead washing out bits of the glittering darkness. Sleep is easy...

Año Nuevo

January 1st, 2011
¨Año Nuevo, es bueno comenzarlo por encima de las nubes¨ - Avianca Aerolineas