The beautifully cultivated Chavin mountainside
After the Power mesa, after the journey into the bowels of both life-giving and life-taking energies and pyramids, we went to dinner.
Imagine 12 people, skimming across words like stones across a lake, sailing down off the most powerful psychoactive plant on the planet, knowing that we would never be the same – going out into the great big world to have a meal.
All I can say is, our poor waiter.
Oh, and best meal ever, though I had more lemonade than anything requiring jaw movement. But I sat next to Z and D, sandwiched by light and strength, and I just couldn’t stop … glowing.
How were we ever going to top El Brujo?
The answer lie at Chavin.
First, however, a bit of history:
Like the Mochica, the Chavin were an Andean civilation; in fact, they’re considered the first modern Andean community, and the cradle of Shamanism. The people and Shamans that would found Chavin first came from the Amazon – the womb of the world, and the earth-bound representation of the underword. The Chavin knew in order to ascend, they had to do so physically and spiritually. They had a calling, so they followed their voices. Hundreds of miles later, which they of course crossed on foot, and 10,000 feet above sea level, they found paradise.
The city of Chavin was founded in the most spectacular valley imaginable. When I say it’s the most enchanting place on earth, there isn’t an ounce of exaggeration. 10,000 feet up, with another several thousand feet of mountain on every side, Chavin is an absolute utopia. It experiences a rather tropical, mild climate, nestled at the site where the black and white ranges merge together – poetry in it’s own right, as it represents the merging of feminine and masculine energies. Just like El Brujo.
At the base of the city is a little river, which just happens to be the headwaters of the mighty Amazon. Everything about Chavin feels god-like. If I had to name a place that *feels* enlightened, it would only be Chavin.
Once the travelers found this location, they knew what had to come next; it was time to build a temple. They created The Temple of the Jaguar, an absolutely amazing, 3,000 year old mecca built for one purpose only: to spiritually ascend. The Chavin were equalists; anyone and everyone were welcome to join the journey. And just as they had endured unspeakable obstacles to find their way to paradise, so too did thousands of people travel from across the continent to partake in the sacred ceremonies. The appointed Shaman would administer the Huachuma medicine, and huge celebritions and reverent gatherings would take place. The temple still stands, and you can feel the heartbeats and radiance of everyone who has came before.
The Chavin had no need for weapons; they reigned in peace for a thousand years. Every ounce of their effort was put into helping all who came to them ascend, grow, break out the bounds of the tangible, and experience divine unity. And they did so with absolute genuis. Every last element of the Temple is pure perfection, built in an perfectly central location, equadistance from mountains and water, and centralized in an undeniable vortex of warm and enlightened energies.
This was utopia. There was no hierachy, no rulers or unnecessary structure. Technologically, they were rather like the Egyptians; so incredibly advanced, it defies logic. They formed the basis for all of us, to the extent that we clearly had nowhere to go but backwards.
As I have learned, if you want to get to the true powerful source of *any* movement or belief system, you have to go back to the beginning.
And so it was that we endured the 10 1/2 hour bus ride it took to reach Chavin. Seems a meager effort compared to those of our ancestors, who carried their lives on their backs for months until they found their hearts nestled in that valley. The bus ride, however, was perilous and long, sweeping through a tiny dirt road that criss-crossed up the Andes. I have never, ever seen such majesty; and I’m a Montana girl, and a bit of a mountain snob. But this place – it defies description. Chavin is an angelic dream.
The town stands today as if it’s been in a time warp; untouched by modern touches in every way. There are few cars, no billboards, no sign of anything else but a simply beautiful life. Stunning indigenous people in brightly colored skirts and sweaters meander through the streets, blasting smiling eyes at us, the obvious outcasts. The rare guests in their city. The roads aren’t paved, the buildings are charmingly old, and everything feels like it should. Quiet. Innocent. Alive.
We arrived to our modest hotel, and most of us slept like children. It felt so much like a homecoming; like God himself, or his gaggle of friends, were there waiting. We knew we were meant to be here, called to reach a higher state. All of us felt so lucky. So blessed.
So absolutely awestruck for the experience we were about to uncover.
