“Here we are on a journey from birth to death, with an opportunity to contribute a verse to the song of life. I want to sing of a deep awake world. I want to sing of a new tribe of compassionate, creative, wise, liberated, erotic, sublime, appreciative, unique individuals, living lucidly as one and many… If you do too, let’s sing together and raise the roof.”

How Long Is Now?, Tim Freke, 2009

A little over four years ago, on that first fateful date with Seeker, he gave me a copy of a little book called Lucid Living, by Timothy Freke.  I read it the following day in one sitting – only took about 30 minutes to digest, but the impact was profound enough to shift the course of my life for good.  It packs a punch, this little morsel, and I remember exactly where I read it (in bed, broad daylight, hungover from too much drinky with Seeker) and how I felt as I meandered through it (shocked, thrilled, awed, and holy shit – SAFE.)  The book outlines a little of life’s mystery – creating a beautiful metaphor between lucid dreaming, and our so-called “waking” lives.  It is audacious and yet loving, profound yet simple, and I started looking at my world in a new light after having read it.

Tim made such an impression with this bitty beast, I did a ton of research on the author himself, and found he had created a group called the Alliance for Lucid Living.  The ALL, for short, is a group that supports people who have found their way to this awakening – to bring us all together so we can keep talking the talk, and walking the same – with support and love.  I joined straight away, and started receiving the infrequent but magnificent emails.  I watched Tim’s schedule, noting that while he did all these intriguing workshops and talks, he didn’t do them often in the states, and never in a place I could actually attend.  As I read more of and about him, however, he quickly reached hero status to me – he’s written 31 books, has a freaking awesome, British sense of humor, and just absolutely exudes Big Love (one of his trademark phrases).  I was simply enamored with his mission to awaken people to their true natures – to show the door to the Oneness with such gentleness and humor.  And success.  He has legions of folks, myself included, testifying to the power of his philosophies.  His ideas are tried, tested, and true – I’m living proof.  He helped me wake up.

Then came the day I had been waiting for.  An ALL newsletter in the summer of 2009 revealed that Tim would be speaking at the Science and Non-Duality conference in San Francisco, and putting on a day-long retreat as well.  Orion and I made immediate plans to attend both, and we had an absolute blast.  The workshop did a number on me.  Not only did I start to really feel this space of Big Love that Tim talked so much about, I got to meet this Hero of mine.  Some of us even had dinner with him afterwards.  And as Orion and I sat talking to this remarkably humble, brilliant being, we said simply “Man, come to Vegas.  We need you out there.  We’re ready.”

A few months of correspondence transpired, and lo and behold – we actually inked this desert dream.  Tim and his long-time friend and assistant Anthony came to visit us last week, here to infuse Vegas with a big beautiful wake-up call.  I had one of my heroes STAYING IN MY HOME.  We spent the week together.  He makes it hard to hold him in hero-status, however, as he’s just so human.  So full of love and lacking all that superiority business.  I, at least, had a fucking fabulous time.  We had a sushi dinner to introduce him to the community, along with a local radio interview (which Orion and I were blessed enough to assist with.)  Then we had a Stand Up Philosophy events, another trademark of Tim’s, where he gave a teaser for the Main Event and gave people a glimpse into his insight and offerings.  It was a fantastic night.  50 or so seekers heard some truth, and felt a connection beyond their separate selves.  That would have been enough.  But the money shot was coming.

Last weekend, we hosted Tim’s famous Magical Mystery Experience workshop in our home.  20 folks from literally around the world (Mexico, Britain, Ecuador, Los Angeles, Las Vegas) joined us for a deep dive into the great mystery of life and love.  Tim combines a lot of revealing, insightful banter with a bunch of intensely beautiful exercises.  They all help each participant celebrate their separate consciousnesses (for without them, we would have no identity, and no ability to reflect and experience on what we *really* are, in that awesome oneness sense), and to step outside this space and into the realm of that glorious Big Love.  It’s a tough process to describe.  But oh my god is it ever powerful.  I cried a whole lotta happy tears all weekend.  I got to share this heart-exploding experience with some of my Very Favorite People (BFF + her Painter partner, Orion, several angels from Vegas, etc.).  And I absolutely, unequivocally fell more in love with myself, my friends, and the whole wide world.

Tim doesn’t pretend to have all the answers.  He’s refreshingly honest in the way he readily (and humorously) admits what he doesn’t know.  Which, as he states it, is just about everything.  But what he does is re-awaken us to the deliciousness of life, it’s very mystery and magic.  And he’s figured out a very gentle, hugely effective way to lift folks right up into the space of oneness – of complete and utter love like you’ve never experience.

Words simply cannot express how huge and awesome this weekend was.  Tim gifted us all with unspeakable awakenings, allowed us to bond and feel the oneness with each other, and just as precious to me, became a real friend to Orion and myself.  It’s quite a miracle when someone who literally changed your life from afar suddenly becomes a very real fixture in your waking world.  First Tori Amos, now Tim Freke – and this time it’s much more real.  I really couldn’t be more grateful.

We’re doing it again this September – we’ve tentatively chosen September 3-5 for the next big event – another Magical Mystery Experience, complete with a Standup Philosophy Event on Thursday, September 2nd.

If you gift yourself with only one consciousness exploration this year, this is really, truly The One.  I’m a retreat junkie – I’ve been to many experiences that are crafted to help wake us up to who we are.  But none are more powerful – in the most gentlest of ways – than Tim Freke’s Magical Mystery Experience.  This is a safe, intimate, heart-expanding experience, and everyone who came last weekend had a profoundly beautiful time.  We’d love to see you at the next one.  I’ll keep this blog updated with the next go-round, but seriously, set your travel plans now if you aren’t already in Las Vegas.  You deserve to know this love.  I sure as hell do, and every cell in my being is still rejoicing.

From http://www.webdesign.org/img_articles/12462/Exploding-Heart21.jpg

I’m having the kind of day the edges on the point of surreal – experiences so electric, so deep and meaningful, so heart-centered and connected and magical and lovely, I’m more than a little dizzy. This is good stuff.

So this may sound like a small thing, but I bought a new dining table / chairs combo, and it was delivered today. I haven’t had a dining table since I moved to Vegas. It’s been part of my reluctance to become fully immersed in my life here. I used to have famous dinner parties brimming with beautiful peeps, but I’ve deprived myself of being the social fiend that I truly love to be since I’ve moved here. Until recently. This table is a tangible symbol of my now-ness in this city, this space and time, and also my love of bringing people together. I can’t wait for the magic to unfold. Oh, and it’s a really fucking cool table / chairs / bench thingee. Yeah, there’s me being shallow. I like stylish stuff, and this set is smokin’.

But what I’m really all a-buzz about is more about the people that will share that table space with me. Every time I think I’m getting used to this connecting business, someone throws me a curve ball. Or something happens to fall further in.

Best Vegas Girl and I keep getting closer. She’s given me feedback many times that I am not vulnerable with her the way she has honored me, and I’ve been working hard to break down those barriers. It’s paying off in spades. I am over the moon about our chats lately. I’ve been so honest and real with her, and she’s so equally raw and so accepting – omg does it make me giddy.

Then there’s Sage. He got back from THE most wildly amazing, life-changing, divinely cosmic HOLY COW adventure in Australia today, and we just shared stories over Starbucks. I can’t even begin to describe what he’s experienced now with the Guru and the ashram (our spiritual teacher has an ashram there, and is down there now doing a retreat). It’s definitely the kind of stuff that defies explanation, and if I told you, most wouldn’t believe it anyway. I didn’t until I lived some of these moments too. But Sage, he took the baton I passed and ran full speed into the cosmos. He is teaching me so much about surrender and manifestation. I am so proud and awed by him. We had the best talk and these incredible hugs and I could just cry when I think of how precious he is.

I get to see Z and Healer this weekend too, and have a woman’s gathering at the ashram. I only know my Soul Sis and my Aya friend (a woman who will soon be doing Ayahuasca with me, hence the moniker) – the other women are virtual strangers, and that’s about to change. Very, very exciting. Z and I will no doubt have a huge weekend too – so much has been up for us, but we’re very surrendered to sorting our way through and finding the next level of our bond. Aw yeah, this is getting very interesting.

And lastly (but certainly not leastly), there’s Mr. Orion. My fellow seeker, truth slayer, deep thinker, and whoa boy, hardcore email-er. We wrote each other – no exaggeration – eleven page emails today. You know those kind of bonding sessions that are completely without walls, completely without expectations – just respect and safety and truth, coupled with loads of energy bolts? That’s what I have with him. Another kindred, another special someone that has so much to teach me, so much to offer – ah man. I’m so lucky and sourced and buzzy.

Sage also brought me back gifts from The Artiste – another soul-brother of mine that lives in Australia. I have yet to meet him yet, but I love him deeply. He’s a brilliant painter and a beautiful soul. Of course Sage felt him as a brother too – we’re all family, clearly. And Artiste sent back some CDs, paintings, photos, and a gorgeous bracelet for me to enjoy.

I’m spilling over. I’m loving life. I’m feeling more than I have ever felt, and although there’s some really intense firings going down, I know I can handle all this and more. I’m jumping deep, deep into the rabbit hole here, but I trust there’s a safety net. Better yet, I trust that there is no ground. There is no landing, no end to this if I choose to keep on keepin’ on. Which, of course, I do. There’s no stopping now.

From www.flickr.com/photos/sherrett/2214730263/

Since the dawn of the new year, every day has felt like a vortex. Like I’m falling just a little bit deeper into the Twilight Zone. That’s how the quest to heal has appeared to me these days – my balls-out I Want To Heal At All Costs attitude has thrust me into the hot seat. I am no longer on the fringe of an ashram, I’m fully immersed inside of one. A magnificent mystery school. A place where things I could never, ever give words to happen every single day.

The latest unfolding started with a higher consciousness party (these peeps know how to have a soiree, believe that.) There’s a new pivotal someone in my sphere of influence that must be named now – he shall be dubbed Orion. He’s a consummate hunter of truth and ascension, and he’s single handedly helping to unify the metaphysical community of this scorchingly beautiful valley. In just a couple short weeks, he’s been completely embedded in my heart space, and thanks to the events he helps to organize, my life has been sourced a million times over. I’m meeting empowered, electric individuals with their fingers on various cosmic pulses, and it’s just beyond awesome. So, hat’s off to you Orion – I’m so lucky to know you.

This last Sunday, another active member of the metaphysical crew hosted an enlightenment discussion at his east-side abode. An enlightened being named Jim attended, and I gotta say, it was a trip. It’s irrelevant to relay what was actually said, as the majority of the activity happened way under the surface. Despite my ego’s belief that nothing really transpired except some circle-esque banter and unsatisfactory commentary, something was clearly triggered. The results don’t lie.

Later that evening, I had a conversation with boyfriend Z that pushed me into a seemingly small but no less noticeable emotional state. I watched a groovy DVD (Marie Antionette) and felt a mini-crash coming on. Out of instinct, and slightly against my better judgment, I sent the Guru an email highlighting a couple of things that I felt consumed by – distance from those I love. He responded later the next day, and wow was it a bullet of truth. I got refined in dramatic fashion about my victim consciousness – the most harsh download He’s ever flung my direction. I could have let my ego have her way and retreated into a turtle shell to lick my wounds, but thankfully, the somewhat brutal yet beautifully constructive email made me laugh at first, and ultimately just feel positively loved. It’s so rare to experience such truth, for the sheer benefit of growth – and that’s what Guruji gave to me. In exactly the manner that I would respond to most. Again, I’m floored by how fortunate I am.

Now, it seems I have strep throat, which I also find quite symbolic – my words have been infected, and those that I’ve held back have done the same. I’m learning so, so much about just being honest. No matter what that looks like. That I don’t have to be perfect, that I don’t always have to be on my game or look good. And that if I don’t take chances and rip off the happy dappy bullshit when it just isn’t sincere, I won’t source the kind of feedback I’ve been receiving these past few days. Sure, sometimes I feel like I’m straight out of a Tom Cruise flick – that I might not be able to handle the truth – but how else am I going to snap out of this life-long infantile programming? It is exactly how it needs to be. I’ll just keep feasting on humble pie. I mean, who doesn’t like a good pie every now and again?

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.

Serpent heads carved at Chavin’s Temple of the Jaguar - representative of the underworld, the Amazon, and Ayahuasca

We walked up towards the temple, just a few minutes away. As it came into view, I had to look away. Too much to take in. Beauty, energy, history – so goddamn profound.

How is it that I was selected to come here? How did I become so incredibly blessed?

She echoed back an answer – because it’s home.

For all of us, I assure you – this is home.

Being there, it was a spiritual homecoming. Walking into the central area of the Temple, I connected with every being who had ever been there before – over 3,000 years worth of brethren. I was probably amongst the past visitors. It didn’t matter either way – I was here now. And here – was everything.

Howard meandered out into the center of the Temple’s square, puffing Mapacho smoke in each direction as an offering and announcement of our arrival. I saw him in his traditional clothing, and he wasn’t Howard anymore – he was an ancient, a Shaman; someone closer to God than I had ever known. I watched with a vibrant smile, giving thanks again. Perpetually.

Meanwhile, the beautiful surroundings began to dance for us. All the nooks/crannies/portals in the Temple started to beckon and seethe. As I scanned the horizon, I saw so much life. So many amazing, shining examples of why this world could be utopia. And is, if we just see it as such.

We walked up to a structure on the other side of the Temple; something Howard called The Cosmic Telephone. It’s a large rock, just slightly elevated off the ground, and inside the rock are 7 bowl shaped crevasses. In the Chavin days, they would fill these bowls with water, and they directly matched up with star patterns in the sky. It was a way to communicate with their spiritual ancestors, and with the Paladeas, and other far away life forms.
I wanted to dial my own past, knowing I wasn’t from here, that the first home was somewhere so far away … I teared up as I stared at the roof hanging over the sacred rock, preventing us from communicating.

And why, I wondered. Because we no longer believe. We don’t want to – it’s too profound and too vast and too tough to get our brains around.
Fuck our brains, I thought. They’re the reason we’re so isolated, begging for our separateness. Egos don’t love company. And because of this, we’ve lost our true connections. We’ve lost the bloody truth.

Then it occurred to me – of course, it wasn’t lost. We were finding these truths now. I was infused with my duty — something communicated countless times before — to tell this tale. To remind my people who we are, where we came from — and most importantly, what we’re capable of. It’s infinite. And it doesn’t have to involve wars and murder and darkness. We just keep choosing that path.

I sank into the grass and buried my face into the blades. The other travelers floated around the cosmic formation, talking in short staccatto bursts. We were trying so hard to understand. But when we stopped trying, all the answers came.

I sat up to glance upwards, to my sky-home, and saw the sun lingering just beyond the mountain tops. She was slipping away from us, and my heart surged at the thought of having the stars instead. Yes, I know she is a star, but she’s so freaking bright. I needed to be soothed. I craved the warmth a lack of light could bring.

Howard motioned for our ascension, and then I remembered — the labrynths were waiting. A maze of underground caverns, sealed up for maximum scensory deprivation, and built for one purpose: so that people could ascend. Back to where I longed to be. And no doubt beautifully dark.

I kissed the ground, blew a kiss to the sky, and rose to follow my destiny.