El Brujo himself, waiting our arrival
In order to do justice to the most incredibly powerful day in my life’s history, I have to provide a wee bit o’ Andean history.
Keep with me now, it’ll all be worth it.
After the uber-amazing Fire Mesa, the crew enjoyed a down day, rested up, then hit the road. Our bus took us to Huachaco Beach, an awesome coastal town brimming with hostels, street art and lovely surf. We had a night of revelry, then arose early the next morn for our Power Mesa at El Brujo.
Prior to all these shenanigans, however, Howard took us to a museum so we could learn all about the Mochi. As the creators of El Brujo, our second Mesa stop, it was integral that we understand their path.
The Mochi were master Shamans. They were an Andean civilization that stretched all the way to the coast, reigning from around 400 BC to 300 AD. They had crazy cool rituals, amazing artwork and jewelry, and a really big fixation on power. In the beginning, I didn’t know how to take this; power is not my strong suit. I duck and cover in it’s strongest showings. I blame power for much of the world’s chaos. And yet, I know it can be so beautiful.
The Mochi uncovered a Huacha (energy vortex) in a desolate coastal area, and they built two small but amazing pyramids to harness the power. One is the feminine Huacha, or life-giving center, and the other is the masculine life-taking pyramid. You can’t have one without the other, after all; such is our undeniable spiral.
The Mochi had one gigantic problem during their reign; the weather. Every 40 years or so, El Nino would swoop down from the north and absolutely devastate their community. As masterful Shamans, however, they started upping the ante, built those pyramids, and decided to take on the task of controlling the weather. Lofty, yes, but with the Mesa magic, anything is possible.
They would stage enormous ceremonies, administering Huachuma to thousands of people. Everyone would be deep in the work, asking the Gods to please spare them the devastation of the next El Nino. It didn’t work, but they refused to give up.
The Shaman developed the idea that perhaps human sacrifices would appease the Gods and grant their wishes. Yet they didn’t plan to offer up the weakest of their tribe; no, they were serious about this contract. They created a blunt instrument that could knock out an opponent, but wouldn’t actually kill them, and they gave them to many of their strongest warriors. Every 30-40 years, when the signs of El Nino started appearing, they’d take these warriors, pair them off, and lead them to battle. Those that won the duels were heroes. Those that lost immediately became prisoners.
The Mochi would then begin another massive Huachuma ceremony, and even the prisoners would partake in the drink. They would lead the captives through a procession to the life-taking pyramid, and after a period of time, each would be taken to the top and executed.
Here’s the thing: it worked. El Nino, for a period of hundreds of years, ceased to create any more significant damage with the tribe, and they were elated. Life was prosperous, and otherwise peaceful. But when those spondella shells appeared on shore – the sure sign that El Nino was planning a return – the Shaman would prepare for another round of sacrifices. And the process would continue.
Eventually, however, controlling the weather simply wasn’t enough for these profoundly powerful people. And isn’t that the way with power – many of us don’t know when to cease the ascension? The Mochi began practicing black magic, too, using the lives of the prisoners as more than just offerings to the Gods. This proved to be the Mochi’s undoings. Within a comparatively short time, they were wiped out forever.
I took all of this information into my deeply open heart, but I couldn’t make peace with the human sacrifices. I couldn’t help but wonder if that was really necessary – couldn’t they have found a better way? Wouldn’t it have been more noble to just take on El Nino and weather the storm, as it were?
Knowing the spiritual portal that Huachuma provided, however, made me instantly connect with what the prisoners must have felt, walking into death while under his spell. I can honestly say there would be no easier transition. Huachuma takes you into the spirit world, the same way that death does. I can imagine that many didn’t even know the difference between “life” and “death.”
Still, this did little to comfort me. Before arriving at El Brujo, I had to acknowledge my judgment for their actions. It made me ill to consider such a tragic fate. But my Voice – the wise one – asked for a little reservation. She insisted I would see the beauty.
As we rode in our bumpy van down the long, lonnngggg dirt road to the ancient El Brujo site, all of these truths collided in my mind. Doing Huachuma at such a dark place felt a little anxious to me, but I was ready. Ready to take off the blinders and see the dark side of heaven.
Nice story, unfortunately there’s precisely no archaeological evidence to back it up.
Actually, there is – and after what I’ve experienced, it doesn’t matter either way. It’s not the past that resonates, it’s the lessons that were driven into me as I traveled through those portals. In any event, thanks so much for reading / commenting