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...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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.