Physically, I haven’t known a single threat. For that, I say thank you.
Emotionally, yeah, you could say there’s been a war or two.

There’s this thing about a book. I have had a contract for publication in progress now for the better part of 2 years. That may be over. There are lawsuits waging, horrendous accusations, and more than a few unkind words for me, one of the very few unwilling to blame anyone else but myself. Blame isn’t the right word. I’m not angry if this falls through, nor am I looking for a scapegoat. It’s all about the journey.
That’s not to say my heart didn’t crack wide open when I heard the news. It’s not official – the company is still trying desperately to prevail – but I can’t say it looks good. Maybe it never did. My rose-colored glasses are sometimes not see-through. I know this, but I also don’t know any other way to be.

I’ve already grown accustomed with the idea that my book may not be published how and when I thought it would. My heart breaks every time I think of it, still, but I can smile about it. I can believe there’s either another way, or a message in there that maybe that’s not the end goal. Doesn’t matter, I’ll just keep writing.

I’ve also been called to honor my duality in ways I never imagined these past weeks as well. See, I grew up most of my life relishing my darkness, unafraid of her depths, and admittedly indulged in the dark hours way too much. I took substances – any substance, really – to dull my senses and help me wallow more. All that is gone now, the obsession and escapist side, but what I realized is that I tried to dishonor that half of me – wish her out of existence.

It’s just not possible. How dare I think half of me had to go away.

When I was last in Peru, I went to a place called El Brujo, the site of human sacrifices during the mochi tribe. They killed some of their strongest as a gift to the gods, so they could be spared the wrath of El Nino. I came to completely and totally understand not only the necessity, but the beauty of these actions. I also came to know that no matter how much it tried to seduce me, I myself would never succumb to the allure of ultimate power and darkness. I could walk to the edge, however often I chose, to observe and witness and Know. But I would never go too far. Not because of some insane brute strength, but because of my goodness. We all have it, but I got to see mine. Indisputable.

I thought when I left that vortex, those sacred grounds, I could cast of the darkness and just revel in the light.
See, I still have so much to learn.

As a Gemini and a human, I walk in contradiction every day. I’m finished denying the parts of me that don’t look the way others feel they should – myself included. I will simply love. Myself, the god-realizeds and the murderers alike. No more resistance.

Life is changing. In a big, big way. All I can do is receive as best I know, and not let the judgments land. Listen as best I can, but never let it sway the inner voice.

Sounds simple enough, yes? I just wonder where it will take me next . . .

The more mine flood through my pours, the more I feel an immense, deep-seeded sadness. And I’m glad for it.

The dream involved a group of friends on drugs. No one I could really decipher, but they felt very precious and adored. They were hanging out at a house I was familiar with, and I left my car parked there (a VW Jetta, my last vehicle that I named Zoe), along with my purse/wallet and a few other treasures.
I took off on some night time journey with another dear female friend – again, no one I can tangibly recognize, but I loved her. I trusted her.
When we returned from the trip, my car and all my belongings had been stolen. Yet, my friends were still in the other room, high as a kite and totally oblivious.
I realized my cell phone was among the stolen items, so I borrowed someone else’s and dialed the number.
Right away, a bizarre and needy sounding male answered. I asked if Michael was there, intentionally lying about who I was looking for. He said no, but we leapt into a deep conversation. He went on and on about his own loneliness, and how he had just stolen a ton of things to fill a void. I cried with him. I totally knew that feeling.
“I fill my voids up with food,” I told him. “I used to do drugs. But now, to shut-down, I’m back to what I always did before – eat.”
“That’s better than stealing,” he told me. But I didn’t agree.
Nor did I ask for my things back.

What I remember most about the dream – my anger. I’m not really an angry person – I can’t hold a grudge past 5 minutes. I rarely feel this emotion. But in my dream, I was overcome with rage and disappointment. Not at the man who stole my stupid things, but at the vapid, disconnected group of friends that partied away and didn’t give a damn about my condition.
It’s ridiculous, really, that I would be so upset about something so meaningless, but I see the poetry of it. I was processing anger I still hold for myself. I don’t mind in the least what the people around me do to escape and cope – I wouldn’t dare pass judgment when I myself have done so much to hide. I realized, in retrospect, that I’m so mad at myself for wasting so much time. Television, alcohol, ecstasy, food – everything I use to avoid my emotions. Now, in my enlightened moments, I know that none of this has been a waste. That all of it is a treasure and I shouldn’t resist a thing. But there’s so much pain around this. I haven’t processed the pain that I’m attempting to gloss over when I escape to these indulgences, and that’s what I felt the dream revealed.

It means I’m ready for another trip to the Amazon. I read another blog today about Ayahuasca from a woman I met on my first trip to the jungle. She means the world to me, as our story is just so freaking awesome. We didn’t talk much during our face time down there – and for good reason. My then boyfriend was gearing up to become her boyfriend, and though we weren’t exactly privy to the details, we felt the need to keep our distance.
Later on, she shared the truth with me, and I loved her for it immediately. We had a pretty massive shared bond, because no one in my life outside of her knows what it was like to love him. We haven’t seen each other since, but she is my shamanic sister – eternally. Today, she talked about how Ayahuasca reveals the parts of us that aim to be destructive. It’s so incredibly true, and I know this is the heart of the dream. I’m ready for my next cleansing – for my next cycle with the healing plants. I’ll have to wait a few more months, but I know it’ll be here at exactly the right moment. I’m just so, so happy to have found my healing track, and to have so many luminous people who continue to light the way.

Time to shed these tears and tuck in for another tumultuous dream journey. Stay tuned.

And so, I wrote to one of my shaman and said – I’m coming home.
March is it – for a 7 day spiritquest – 4 more ayahuasca ceremonies. Then I’ll be returning in July for another 12 day Huachuma journey, back to the huacas, back to the elemental truth centers, and back to the core of my own glowing self. I am knotted up and electrified – remembering it all. Realizing that once again, I get to go there. I must. It’s my calling. It’s the way in which I find the strength to be a light, not another piece of the darkness.

March. I’ll make it happen. And really, you should join me.

Shamanika and the sky, Heaven’s Gate

A lot is happening. By a lot, I mean — a tail spin. The kind of carnival ride that makes you puke and grin at the same time. Wheee, I say. Hands free.

I’m moving to Vegas. I don’t know when, but I do know why. The end of the year is my goal – intention is clear, set, sent the universe, signed and sealed – yadda yadda.
Why?
Because Mom needs me. With Dad’s passing earlier this year, the hole she is trying to fill is too big for a solo effort. I have the light she’s seeking, and I’m selfish not to share. Plus, it’s a chance for me to escape the distractions of the familiar rut I’ve created and live a dream of sorts — to isolate myself, further my career, and get the second novel done — the one the Will Change Everything.

I am all kinds of faithful.

Here’s the kicker — Z isn’t coming with me. Talk about your bitter pills. I’ve been aching from it all, but now I see the gift. At long last. He’s on the enlightenment path — it’s who he is. And maybe it’s who I am too — I’m still finding that truth.
(OK, I know it’s my path too, I’m just not ready to fully OWN it yet. There, I said it.)
Anyway, I had the incredible honor of meeting his Ashram family and the omnipotent Guru. I had no context for this sort of experience – before Z, I had no idea what enlightenment really meant, or any experience with someone who had reached that state. Meeting Z’s Guru – it just changed everything. He’s the real thing; an absolute beacon of realness and service. I am still buzzing from the contact. And I realized, of course, that it’s where my love belongs. It’s what I love about him the most – this incredible path he’s found for himself. The greatness he is poised to achieve. I know he’s chasing the enlightenment dream not for himself, but for the elevation of us all. I am tearing up as I process this — there’s no greater gift. He is willing to give up EVERYthing just to help us cast off the shackles. If we all held this mentality, there would be no need to give up a thing.

We aren’t splitting up – quite the contrary. We’re stronger than ever. He’ll be in the OC, and then Maui, I will be in Vegas, and we are chucking the “It’ll never work” nonsense and creating the reality we believe in. An easy path, no, but ours all the same. We trust in the rewards. That’s all that matters.

And that’s just the beginning, as it were, but enough to gnaw on for now.

Let me just end by saying – mercy, I have missed you.

“I’m the fucking Buddha,
This is enlightenment.”
-Bjork

Bliss. Just. . .Bliss.

The Huachuma had sucked us all into the deepest recesses of our hearts, and we started our hike. I had no idea how long it would be, where we were headed, or how difficult the hike might appear, but I didn’t care. I had climbed Fire Mountain, I had taken on the energies of El Brujo, and I had looked into the eyes of God at Chavin. There was nothing unreachable, nothing I couldn’t achieve.

- Enlightenment.

The word rattled in my head as my feet fell, one before the other, in a steady stream behind my friends.

My boyfriend has experienced the true essence of enlightenment. The real deal. For over a week, he knew what is was like to be without resistance; to experience complete love, and nothing but. I heard his story initially and just fell awestruck; I hadn’t even known the meaning of the word before. I always imagined it was a Zen state of meditation; I really didn’t even know we could stay there, forever, if that was our dharma and desire.
Z is the one on the path of enlightenment. Why was this word echoing in my ears?

It wasn’t the first time, though — sitting on top of the life-giving huaca back at El Brujo, I was shown many visions. Z stood next to his former Guru, once again enlightened, and forever so this time. That made sense.
But the spirit whispered my potential too. She asked me to be open to my own greatness. I didn’t have to look up- I could just stand tall and know my heart too.

This time, as we walked, my hands trembled fearfully. This was a block even Huachuma couldn’t power through yet; I still couldn’t fathom it. I have issues with the word God, and all he represents, thanks to a difficult Catholic recovery. A familiar story. But that’s what I was asked to do, as I took in the majestic beauty of the most amazing place I’d ever seen – I was being asked to admit that I, and everyone else was God. That’s all we’re supposed to realize; there is absolutely no separation.
And if that was true…which I could agree too in spirit…
I was on the path to enlightenment. Me. The girl who once wore nothing but black and hissed at people who stared too hard. The girl so angry she could break walls and fists at times, and certainly no shortages of hearts.

We reached a space about 15 minutes up the mountain that felt like enlightenment should; bursting with love and lacking any fear or resistance. These amazing trees enveloped us, sporting several bright orange layers of bark, and a protective, energetic covering. We planted ourselves and found the deepest meditative state, collectively. We were helping each other ascend, and fall deeper into our hearts.
I couldn’t believe how easy it was….or how beautiful.

Suddenly, I started seeing myself back in that Peruvian hut; a lifetime ago, watching the world cave in. Watching myself be drowned in dirt as the earthquake that formed Heaven’s Gate killed 70,000 innocents. Jesus, why did this keep haunting me?

- Because you don’t believe.

I didn’t. I believed in past lives, almost completely, but this just seemed a tad too…convenient. How can it…?
There I go again, questioning divinity. It’s a bad habit.

We rose to keep walking once more, and about 5 minutes in, we all stopped to take in the view once again. It’s something we couldn’t seem to stop doing.

I plopped back-down on a nearby rock with V and we described the faces we were seeing in the rocks and clouds. Jaguars. Smiling clowns. Owls.
The usual.

Then I heard Howard say something. My hearing sucks, so I had no idea what the words were…I only knew I had to hear them.
I had an inkling, a little psychic thought — he was answering B’s question. He was telling us the date this Gate was formed. The day the killed 70,000 people and made Heaven on earth.
And I bet, I just bet…it’s on my birthday.

How did I freaking know this? What was making me think such things?

I sat up and raced over to Howard.

- Scuze me, what was that you were saying?

- Oh, well, B was asking when this whole thing happened.

- What date did you say?

- May 31st. May 31st, 1970.

My birthday is May 31st, 1975.
I lowered myself to the ground and placed my palms on her comforting firmness.
Oh. My. God.

I looked up at my Teacher with tear-streaks.

- Howard, that’s my birthday.

He grinned that trademark Chavin smile.

- Well then, two very important things happened on May 31st. Kitty was born, and Heaven was formed.

That was all I need to know – I, too, could be enlightened. And I died on this mountain once, just as I was finding Real Life again.

Me and Z, taking in the magnificent view.

We reached the top of the mountain after a long, treacherous climb. Flashes of the real world, and all it’s fear-filled consciousness, keep sneaking back into our sacred experience. Some of us were fretful about the condition of the bus. Some of us were feeling edgy, restless, and maybe a tad overwhelmed with the strength of it all, not to mention the finality. Our last dose together. Our last chance to let go and be real. To know our hearts just that much more.

At the top, a smattering of small buildings awaited, along with a beloved bathroom. We all bolted to our respective rooms, and I still held tight to my precious rock. I kept thinking about my best friends and tearing up. Jud and Aug and Nando and Gina and the Sacreds; people I would give my life for. I was infusing all these energies into the rock and clutched, hoping to grant them just a taste of what I had been blessed with. I was damn determined. I placed it all in the rock.

The bathroom was a mess. It was almost pitch dark, and in typical Peruvian fashion, didn’t have a toilet seat or a spec of paper. By now, we had remembered to plan ahead, but I stood in the stall staring into the black darkness, trying to remember how to unbutton my pants.
I think the whole process took about 15 minutes, but no one seemed to mind.

On my way out, I stopped at the ledge to look back down the mountain and take in the absolutely stunning view. P, an angelic female member of our posse–one that I hadn’t yet really connected to–stepped up beside me. I felt a jolt of familiarity rip through me, and I swung around to take her in.

- Oh my GOD.
She said, locking my gaze.

- The same? I mean, before?
I wasn’t making sense. But she understood.

- We’ve been here before.
She turned and grabbed my hands.
- We have, haven’t we? Right here. Taking in this view. We have!

I nodded in agreement; I was feeling the same trippy deja vu.
We clasped each other in a weighted, glorious silence and grinned stupidly.

- It doesn’t make sense, but there’s just no…

- Arguing it.

- Yes. Exactly.

It was such an absolute. Past lives were illuminated, and we felt infinitely bonded.
Just
Like
That.
Separation was no more.

We held hands and raced up the stone stairs, eager to rejoin our crew. But so freaking happy.

The entrance to Heaven’s Gate was just a short walk away. As we rounded the corner away from the buildings, everything came into view …
And by everything, I do mean *everything*.

It was mid-day, both cozy warm and crispy cold. Before us, the split mountain top stood, a giant chasm carved in the center. The 9.0 earthquake 37 years prior had split this majestic peak into 2, creating a mile-long crevasse where a gorgeous, deep green lagoon now stood. A few locals were riding a boat out into the center of it, and it appeared that they would disappear off the edge of the horizon. The water joined the two mountain peaks, creating on optical illusion; it really did look like we could walk off the planet and into heaven. The clouds touched down below the peaks, just out of reach, offering a ride to the top of the sky. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my whole life.

In the center of the lagoon, a concrete arrow was poured, connected to the shore. The arrow pointed toward heaven, and naturally, many of us wanted to be right there. Z and I bolted for the center of the object, and plopped down on our backs. I left my body and went hopping around the mountain tops and clouds, feeling protected and enlightened and so amazingly connected. I kept clutching my little rose quartz rock, talking to my best friends…telling them how beautiful life could be.
We make everything so difficult, I told the rock. All we have to do is let go and be love.

Z and I made eye contact, and I beamed my affections to him. He had been deeply reflective, and I knew what his next move would be. His large pyrite rock lay precariously in his hands; symbolic of his own power, and his resistance to his greatness. To prove he no longer wished to resist, he abruptly tossed the rock into the lagoon.

- I was waiting for you to do that.
I told him.
We shared a million words in one glance. It was magic.

I suddenly became keenly aware of my own rock, which had sat next to me on the concrete floor. I snatched it up and put it in a zippered pocket, as if to protect it from a certain dunking.

- Oh no you don’t. That’s for Judy. I can’t give it up.

Z gave me a knowing glance, and I fell back to my conversation with the water.

I lay on my belly and dangled my hands in the sea green liquids, asking for guidance. I was feeling a lot of conflict all of sudden; the Huachuma had gone full tilt. My eyesight seemed wacky, and I started to understand that I was diving farther in. My heart had released another layer.

I saw her – my best friend. I almost choked on the tears. I wanted her to have the same experience; to transcend along with me. I wanted it so bad I thought I would throw up. I was far too attached–I knew this. I knew that I had to let go. She had her own path to follow, and I had to respect the divinity, with or without a shared Journey.
Beyond that, I was told…well, there’s no need for symbolic gifts. I was asked to be the example of love I wanted for all of my friends, and none of that had to do with a rock.

I sat up quickly, grabbed my sacred stone, and tossed it with a dramatic plop.
Z nodded his approval.

- Judy doesn’t need a rock. She just needs you.

I squeezed his hand and agreed.

- Well, the mountain awaits.

We stood up a few moments later and joined the group. It was time to go on a hike, to tap into our creative cores and give one last shot at releasing all judgments, and merging with our divinities.

Some of the crystals for sale at the town near the base of Heaven’s Gate. I bought one of the sparkly pink ones for Best Friend Judy.

We stopped for a brief time at a little town nestled in a valley, right near the town’s square. We were all silly by then, looped up, vibrating, and wall-less. The bus halted outside an ice cream shop and we all sat, frozen and confused. Should we move? Talk? Get out? Stay forever?
Yes and yes.

Howard’s rallying cry lifted us into action.

We had 20 minutes. To shop, to buy water and chocolate, to ask the flowers the secret to their vibrant shades; whatever we needed. 20 minutes to lift off.

Z couldn’t move or function, so I had to give him my strength. He took it in spades, and we finally exited the bus. We headed for the street merchants; a whole scattering a lovely Peruvians, selling their various wares.

We saw some familiar bottles; these magnificent artistic carvings with gnomes and fantasy creatures emerging from the sides of the otherwise ordinary bottles. They spoke to us, but silently, and not strong enough to claim one as our own. We wandered the jewelry set-ups and clothing, bypassing a closer look.

Then we found the moving stones.

A kind woman at the end of the line had a line-up of rocks; and each one looked completely alive. I chose a rose quartz, Z picked a huge sparkling piece of gold fleck stone–we clutched them and sucked up the energies. I paid the modest fee and we triumphantly returned to the bus, rocks in tow.

- We’re going to the top of a mountain. There are hundreds of rocks up there.

Like it mattered. These were goddamn special.

Everyone slowly reassembled, and our chariot roared to life. Z and I both fell back into our headphones, and I consciously channeled my energies. I put every last powerful cell into my fingertips, merging with the divinities of my precious rock. I clutched the quarts so hard, specs pierced my flesh with tiny dotted markings. I loved her, my shiny rose memento. I loved her enough to give her away. I knew she’d be for J-Pie, my best best best best friend back in LaLa. My beacon of light. She deserved this.

The Sigur Ros tunes gave me a sense of infinite power, benevolent and holy. I swayed to the melodies, but over and over, I kept seeing the same image — I was standing in a tiny house, my eyes peering south through a miniscule square window. I was in a kitchen, cleaning dishes, absorbing the majestic blue beyond. Suddenly, I would hear a rumbling, and just as I turned to look, I was immediately buried in a wall of soil – and poof, I was gone.
Again and again, the skies rained the earth. Again and again, I perished, and rose again.

I understood the metaphor; we were about to pass over a burial ground; one formed 37 years prior by a 9.0 earthquake. The bodies of 70,000 innocents shivered beneath the tires. Their screams still muffled, their arms still outstretched.

Could I be one of them?

My mind still had a tiny echo inside; the remnants of my ego. She told me not to believe in past lives and such nonsense. She was trying to keep a grip.

But that didn’t last long. Before I knew it, Huachuma granted me another vision.

I saw Daniel Pearl. Daniel is the journalist who in 2000 was murdered by Pakistani militants. He was beheaded on video tape; a film that passed through millions of inboxes. Not mine, no; I couldn’t bare it, though my then-husband took the bait. Regretfully. Daniel, he always stayed close to me. I felt him the moment he was kidnapped, and I always maintained a connection.
And here he was once again, smiling before me. Why now? Why me?

That smile – it was so bloody familiar. I remembered quickly just how I knew it so well. There were photos that were shown during his kidnapped days, prior to his death; he had his hands shackled, his eyes blindfolded, and yet, he had a smile. This electric, divine, absolutely luminous smile. I knew I’d never forget it.
That was the first time I ever understood what it was to surrender to the Universe. The very first time. He was living the ultimate nightmare, and yet, he trusted. Even if he would lose his head, he trusted it would be beautiful.

I curled up on his smile and fell into the scenery. What did I have to surrender to?

- Everything, he told me.
- Everything, and nothing.

We reached our final pit stop just as he waved and disappeared.

A scene at Heaven’s Gate - those beautiful sky-kissing snow-capped mountains.

The next day, we loaded up our belongings and climbed the bus to Heaven.

We returned to a city we had passed through a few days before; a glorious place called Huaraz. This would be our home for the next 2 nights; the last stop on this cosmic journey. The next morning, we rose early, had the lightest of breakfasts, and started reveling in the bittersweetness of our last Mesa together. Once again, we had to assemble in Howard’s room to take our medicine, and there was such an incredible elation shared amongst us. Fearless and anxious, joyous and bonded, we buzzed and bounced as we waited our turn.

When Howard met my eyes, I exploded in light.

“Kitty,” he said simply. “Well, just look at you. Me-WOW.”

I giggled and MeWowed right back, then I dramatically slinked up to the Mesa and bowed on my knees. I didn’t even taste the foul elixir this time; I welcomed every last drop. Savored every element. This may be my last trip, so I needed to remember every piece.

God, we were so happy. As usual, we had little to no expectations, but all kinds of excitement. Heaven’s Gate was the destination…all we knew, historically, is that in 1970, a 9.0 earthquake ripped through this glorious section of the Andes, severing the mountain range in half. A lagoon sprung up in the center, and the most beautiful place on the planet was given life. The most beautiful. This, I promise.
But as this Mecca pushed through like a lifespring, 70,000 people perished below. A landslide wiped out 2 villages, and all that remains are the church steeples, poking through the soil. We were entering a burial ground. We were visiting Heaven on Earth.

The bus came around to gather us, and already…already I fell into the zone. There weren’t as many barriers the Huachuma had to push through these days; my heart was so hungry for more knowledge, for more life and love, that just the thought of our ceremony sent me into a sacred space. This was what I had to bring home with me; the ability to find such divinity, without the aid of the medicine. I grabbed a hold of the power and made friends.

Z and I sat in silence as the bus started climbing. We had 2 hours of treacherous, dirt road to embrace, along with a 5,000 foot climb – all the way up to 14,000 feet. Most of us brought along our MP3 players; the right music helps you transcend even higher.

I looked over at Z and saw the most intense, light-pouring expression. I tapped him on the shoulder to learn more.

“Whatcha listening to, baby?”

“My enlightenment experience.”

“Oh, heh, that.”

And then I surveyed my scene; one of those snapshots that we take stock of at larger-than-life moments.

I was on a bus, headed to a mystical burial ground were yet another transformation awaited. Deep in the Peruvian Andes, having the journey I always dreamt of…next to the partner who would slay dragons for me. Someone who already knew what it meant to be enlightened. Someone I could rise to meet, on a pedestal higher than our minds can comprehend. I saw the fellow travelers; everyone’s head chakras were bursting with light. I waved to Howard and smiled, bouncing along as the bus hit potholes and rocks. I would never know this moment again.

“Howard, the road to heaven is goddamn bumpy.”

He laughed and gave me a thumbs up.

“We wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I fell back into my chair, put on a little Sigur Ros, and awaited my unfolding mystery.

The only remaining head at the Temple of the Jaguar that is still intact - he’s The Greeter, so it’s rather fitting.

I walked with V, and rested my head on hers.

- Is it over yet? she asked.

I laughed and shrugged.

- You know what I’m going to say, I replied.

- Yes, I suppose. It’s just beginning.

The street we waltzed down was littered with little shop lights. Paved and peaceful, car-less and perfect. Peruvians swept sidewalks and scampered home for dinner. Children chased tires and watched us with curiosity as we all meandered past.

The little Chavin street felt like a stairway of judgment. Not in a negative sense; but oh so symbolic. Every step felt heavy and purposeful; I started feeling the weight return to my body. No longer able to fly, I was attaching to my awesome responsibility. Jesus, I have so much world to change. At least I knew I was capable.

We walked the hotel stairs in silence, all of us wondering what could possibly be next. Of all my previous Huachuma doses, this was by far the most potent. I couldn’t complete a thought, nor a sentence. I couldn’t remember my demons, my faults – nothing tangible sprang to mind. Just the need to hug Z, feel the earth, and get back to that beautiful mesa.

We deposited our packs in our rooms, then drew, one by one, back into Howard’s room. The mesa – our portal of sacred objects – awaited us, just as we had left it, some six hours prior. Candles lit the tiny space, and we hovered around the energies. The mesa covered one twin bed in the center; two more empty beds sat to the sides. I plopped down on the female life-giving side, staking my claim. I couldn’t stop staring at the jaguar skull – he kept turning to stare at me too.

Someone asked me to move the candle. I heard, but couldn’t bring myself to respond. I ducked shyly, trying to avoid any contact, any conversation, as I felt completely and utterly useless. Move a candle? How would I carry it? Where would I put it? No, it just wasn’t possible.

I shrugged, and everyone laughed.

The energy in the room was electric. We were coming down, yes, but there were hours more to go. People started scrambling onto the beds, falling into piles of entwined bodies. We were fully clothed, mind you – nothing you couldn’t tell mom. Except the fact that none of us could remember what “Sober” was like; and frankly, we never would again.

I finally found the strength to move three feet back, and fell onto the welcoming bed. D was there, my spirit-brother — he’s the one responsible for the beautiful pictures attached to each posting here. N was there too; the most fiery, gorgeous girl in our crew; she’s Bulgarian, and every time she said “Baby” in that thick, eastern european accent, I wanted to purr right back. This night, I actually did.

N and I floated our hands above our eyes, intertwining each in various poses, and laughing at our amazing creations. Movement was mesmerizing; you could see how just one flick of your hand mixes up the energies in the air. You can see how beautiful your body is. Everything just looked…like god.

I have no idea how long I lay there. Z joined us eventually, first standing beside the alter, than crashing into our welcoming pile. C came around as well; nervous as he was to be in his heart, to just release. N pulled him in with a big hug, and he collapsed in gratefulness. This, too, was so beautiful to see.

On the other side of the room, bizarre, nonsensical sentences would flash out of nowhere, and people would laugh.

- Worth the price of admission!

- Holy crap, holy grail!

- Now that’s what I call a rock!

- Are ya feelin’ it!

We had no words to describe our bliss, our mind-numbing one-ness, but we kept trying.

My body, she definitely put up a fight. I felt the insanely strong medicine seething through every pore, swishing around in my blood cells and making me feel hot/cold/hot/cold shivvery. My hands appeared purplish and pale in the moonlight, but thankfully, my heart thumped along at a perfectly normal rate. I knew I was OK. I just felt so much *change* inside. Love will do that to you.

Eventually, NZ threw on some of his trademark, bizarre-sounding electronic tracks. I thought they sounded demonic, just like at Fire Mountain, but I still grinned on through. There was no such thing as fear. Even if the devil himself (non-existent though he is) appeared before me, all I would have for him was a hug.

I could tell Z was not digging on the music, and within 15 minutes or so, I finally found my voice.

- Do you want to leave, baby?

- Yesterday.

I took that as a yes.

We found our feet, stumbled past our unresponsive friends, and made our way to our private room. We were up for hours more, pouring through the day’s pictures, telling magic tales, exploring our brand new bodies, and finding how deep our hearts could be.

To say it was magical – well, I can’t say that, because it was way beyond a bag of tricks. This was THE universal secret. The holy grail was inside us all along.

Even still, there was another ceremony to look forward to … Heaven’s Gate was calling.

Dan, myself and David - overwhelmed after seeing the Lanzon. Yeah, it’s that amazing.

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.