Dan, myself and David - overwhelmed after seeing the Lanzon. Yeah, it’s that amazing.
Howard led us all to the top of the Temple, stopping to share the wisdom of each brilliant area. Everything about this place was perfectly poetic; planned to an absolute T, remarkably symmetrical and symbolic, and just all kinds of sacred. I couldn’t really ponder the ultimate power of the place, I just had to stay in my heart and receive.
I felt anticipatory, shivery excitement as he led us to the top; an open door into the Lanzon labrynth welcomed us.
I had no idea what was waiting for me. I didn’t know what a Lanzon was, why it was, where we were headed; everything was a brilliant mystery.
All I knew:
These underground mazes were built 3,000 years ago to lead the Huachuma takers back to the beginning. They were dark, sealed up, with natural air tunnels and a complete lack of any sensories. Lights were minimal, if not completely non-existent. Smells were nothing but the fresh aura of life itself. It would be delightfully silent, and full of profound wisdom.
I paused at the tiny opening, startled at the narrow staircase and the darkness below. I thanked Mother Ayahuasca for killing me in her death vision; had I not already died by that sacred burial, I wouldn’t be able to face what was once my biggest fear. I sourced an ear to ear grin and scampered down the stairs.
Immediately, I saw the maze. The lights were on, so I could clearly see the available paths. I paused for the others, fearing a complete disappearance in these mysterious caverns. I felt drawn to right side path, feeling this whisper-calling – I had layers of chills. I felt like kid in line for a roller coaster. I wanted my epiphany.
Howard descended, and asked for three volunteers – the chosen path was narrow, and only a few could proceed at a time. As with every adventure on this trip, I chirped up first. Ever the gleeful guinea pig.
I walked briskly to the end of the tunnel, mesmerized by the light ahead. I reached a gate with square metal barriers, where I started to take in the image that faced me. Before it even came into view, I fell to my knees and clutched the iron handles.
“God?”
I said the word outloud unconsciously, gasping in my revelations. I felt such an enormous rush of mindless emotions, I could no longer connect to my ego or the voices in my head. Instead, I felt an explosion in my heart; I was decapitated, bursting, reverent and exuberant.
What I saw was a rock. Seemingly so. The Lanzon is a beautiful carved creation, and in the center is a smiling face. It’s God’s face. And it’s mine too. What I felt unequivocally was a reflection; in this rock, the energies of *utlimate* spiritual entities were encased. Just as the Chavin intended.
This was *it* — the holy grail.
I clutched my heart and tried to breathe.
I wanted to stare at the truth-filled reflection forever. I saw a million years or more of lifetimes flash before me; all saying the same thing: just love. Don’t just live in your heart, be your heart.
I knew the rock was god and I was god and my travelers were god and – the whole wide world. Everything so incredibly divine.
The Lanzon was used by the Chavin as the ultimate meditative, reflective creation. Somehow, through their shamanic magic, they infused the reflection of god, and sent it back into our visions, merging this image with our own. I have no other way to explain it; there’s nothing else on earth that can compare.
I relished my handful of seconds, reached out in a symbolic, farewell gesture, and stumbled back to the tunnel’s opening.
On the way, I left my body.
When I reached the end, I stood up a tad taller (narrowly avoiding a head-mash on the low hanging rock ceiling), and then collapsed onto a nearby wall.
I had seriously, totally, and completely lost control.
I cried hysterically. I feared I might stop breathing all together. I buried my face in the rock, and lost my conscious self; instead, I merged with my new revelations; wordless, but full of benevolent, powerful energies.
D, one of the wise and experienced among us, placed his hand on my back, keeping me grounded. He blew mapacho – the sacred tobacco smoke – all around me, protecting my vulnerabilities and helping me Return. I felt comforted that I didn’t ever need to explain myself; and humbled as I saw the others returning, equally awestruck.
Hard to believe; of course. It’s worth a trip to Chavin to see for yourself. I am forever changed, and I’ll never let go of that image. It’s proof of our power. Proof of our divinity. Proof that somehow, someway, things are going to get better. More than we could ever dream.
