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.

Some of the amazing, intricate rock etchings at The Temple of the Jaguar

The Temple is 3,000 years old, but the lines of time have only made her more beautiful. It’s a highly complex place, full of mysterious nooks and crannies that beckon to us with mystical allure. The base of the Temple is shaped like a square, with stairs on each side (about that offer a slightly elevated view. Stairs ascend beyond the central area, leading visitors into the labrythns. But we’ll get there.

The process back then – and now, ever so rarely – worked like this:
All interested parties assembled in this ceremonial Mecca and joined the attending Shaman for a spiritual journey. He administered the medicine to the assemblers, and began the incredible dive.
Participants were then led around to behold a large number of *stunningly* beautiful rock carvings. There are faces, morphed into various stages of ascension, and profoundly detailed animals; all depicting sacred and spiritual messages. These rocks — you guys, they’re *alive*, and they’re pulsing with the most beautiful energy you could ever dream of feeling. Jaguars, condors, serpents — they’re everywhere around the Temple, in the most unexpected places. It makes your heart zing to life every time you spy a work of art – these creations talk to your soul, not your head. It’s amazing to experience the difference.

We saw enough to know where we would be, and we asked our questions. We were ready. Most of us had no clue what to truly expect, but the grandeur and the welcoming embrace of the Temple made us fearless and reverent.

Because the Temple is a public place (tourists are welcome, though rare) we performed the opening ceremonies in Howard’s hotel room. Each of us accepted our blessed dose of medicine, and with shaking hands, I once again jumped through the portal. We then gathered our core goods and headed out for the walk to her gates.

By the time we arrived, the strength of the Huachuma started to draw me in again. I felt dream-like yet lucid, strong yet incredibly malleable. Our crew was led through the gates, and we walked to our first destination: a small makeshift museum, which featured many of the sacred carvings under the safety of covered area. We posed for pictures, took in the messages of the stones, and felt ourselves … changing.

It was hard to name the feeling. Familiar, she was, and romantically seductive, but without and edge. Without any fearful qualities. This place felt safe beyond words; a place to truly just … release.

I kept thinking about control, and how ridiculous it was – notion-wise. It doesn’t exist. And why would we want it to? Why would we, as flawed and curious humans, want to control our destinies, when we have no clue about our mysterious powers? I kept glancing around at the majestic mountains that embraced our view, and once again, I thanked them. They had the secrets.

But as I meanered up the path and followed the group further into the temple, I felt myself … slip. An odd little release; silent and poetic, real and imagined. The voice in my head felt muffled; she wanted to analyze this space. She wanted to explain these incredible shifts. But there were no words. I could only feel the warmth of the energies that surrounded me.

We walked to the headwaters of the Amazon – this unassuming, perfectly beautiful river that lie at the base of the temple. This was our resting spot – our chance to fall into this experience and really just – let go. No control. No expectations. A chance to completely surrender.

We spent many minutes in meditation, each of us finding our own private spot along the water’s edge. Maybe it was an hour, maybe it was just a few moments – I don’t really know.
I lost myself there, soaking in the majesty and sacredness. I watched the tiny river trickle down her path, imagining her strength as she grew into the mighty Amazon. I saw myself, thirty years past, a tiny though powerful being, following her own trail. I looked at my hands and recognized that child; and this, this was my turning point. This was my chance to really find myself.

I fell backwards and lie motionless in the soil, watching the world tick by through the tiny blades of grass the inhibited my view. The whole wide world, inside a tiny blad of grass. It’s all the same, I thought – everything is necessary. Everything is sacred.

As I connected to this divinity, opening my heart to any and all possibilities, I felt the most unbelievably warm and comforting energy flash across my back. I turned my head – a laborious process, as the medicine had me in a deep grip – and rejoiced to find the sun revealed, and shining like a goddess at the base of the mountain tops. She had been hiding all day, and suddenly, I was illuminated. I knew I could trust in the profound goodness of this moment. I knew I was unlocking my own divinity.

I knew the Temple was waiting. What I would find, I couldn’t begin to name … but I wanted to know every last Secret.

The beautifully cultivated Chavin mountainside

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.