Traversing the Andes and Other Powerful Passages - Action—Chief-Warrior

Encounters with Power: Adventures and Misadventures on the Shamanic Path of Healing - José Luis Stevens 2017


Traversing the Andes and Other Powerful Passages
Action—Chief-Warrior

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Lena and I met Agustin, a slight, short mestizo curandero, for the first time in Lima, where we arranged for our seven-hour journey by bus into the mountains. We had been corresponding with him by email for a couple of years, but it took a while for us to actually meet him and experience his healing work with the sacred plants of the Andes. Now it was finally happening and we were thrilled.

Agustin introduced Lena and me to the hot springs on the west side of the Andes where we soaked for many hours in an outdoor pool at an elevation of ten thousand feet. He explained that it was possible to take horses from there over a high pass to the eastern side of the Andes and then reach the Stone Forest by bus. Totally intrigued with this promise of grand adventure, we planned a trip for our next two-year program. The trip turned out to be a dream, and after a couple of days soaking in the hot springs, twenty of us hopped on tough mountain ponies for the all-day trek over the Andes. We had to get an early start and were on the trail by 7 a.m. Although some in our group had very little riding experience, everyone did amazingly well.

On our way up over the mountains it sleeted, rained, snowed, and hailed and we took it all in stride. The trail wound through a beautiful valley and then through a steep gorge with waterfalls that got us quite wet. Once up through the gorge, we wove through a long valley with high peaks on either side and hanging glaciers’ bright snowfields. Below spread a verdant valley with llamas, alpacas, and the occasional vicuñas. In the afternoon we arrived at the base of a steep section that would take us up to the highest pass at sixteen thousand feet.

After a rest and a snack, up we went through some of the most rugged and beautiful terrain I have ever seen. We arrived at a turquoise mountain lake, threaded around it, and began our ascent of the pass. At one point we dismounted from the horses and let them climb by themselves. We climbed on foot, slowly and panting, to the top of the pass where the views of the Andes were stupendous. Late in the day, the winds were blowing hard and the cold was intense, but everyone was totally invigorated.

Next came terrain of ponds and marshes that we had to navigate to get to the small village where our bus awaited us. Somehow word that we were coming had preceded us and the town had prepared a celebration, a parade in honor of the visitors from another country who had come to their small village. That was when we discovered how rare visitors were here. While we were eager to get to the hot springs, we obliged our hosts and with them politely toasted our visit.

Then we took a two-hour ride in an ancient bus whose floor had been cleaned using diesel fuel. It reeked of the stuff, and the choice was to freeze with the windows open or choke with them shut. We chose to freeze until we couldn’t take it anymore. The ride took us through the Altiplano (high plain) and then into rugged mountains where very big mining operations were under way. The mountains had been gouged out with massive equipment, and construction was going on everywhere we looked. This was painful to see after all the beauty we had enjoyed.

We arrived at the Stone Forest after dark and put up our tents in the intense cold of thirteen thousand feet. Although we sat in a cold open-air room, a warm dinner gave us new life. It was not until the next day that we were treated to the spectacular terrain that is the Stone Forest. Great dragon spines of huge rock came down from the steep sides of the mountains on either side into the valley where we were camping

We discovered we were camped right next to local hot springs with some developed pools that the local miners and their families used. That day we climbed into the maze of rocks above us and conducted an amazing huachuma ceremony and enjoyed the thousands of faces of animals, spirits, and characters among the towering rocks. For several hours, each person had the opportunity to wander alone among the castle rocks. Finally a bell called everyone together for the walk back. Huachuma is the ancient medicine that has been used for a documented five thousand years in this part of the Andes. Basically, it is derived from the body of a huge cactus that grows at high elevation and looks similar to the saguaro of Arizona. There is almost no way to describe the experience other than to say that it opens up the mind to higher states of awareness, beautiful light, and expanded intelligence. This medicine is not unlike peyote. During a huachuma ceremony, it is possible to download great wisdom and understanding about the nature of reality and your purpose in being alive.

Upon returning at the end of the day sunburned, tired, and happy, the whole group chose to go into the hot springs pool that contained the entrance to a cave at one end. The cave is long and completely dark, filled with hot water and a rushing cascade at its end. There we reveled for hours, soaking in the hot waters and the dark, talking, laughing, and sharing a wonderful camaraderie. After several days of climbing among the rocks and visiting the hot pools, it was time to return home. We returned to do this trip with every two-year group we had for a number of years, and naturally each trip came with its own unexpected adventures and wonderful discoveries.

Then came the fateful time when we arrived with the Owl group, and of course because they were Owls, many of our adventures happened at night. This time we arrived at our starting point, the first set of hot springs, and soaked for a couple of days before mounting the horses for the trek over the Andes. However, the day of the trek was right after one of Peru’s biggest holidays, and unbeknownst to us, all the gauchos were dead drunk by the time we were supposed to leave. Also, only a handful of horses had arrived to take our group of twenty across the Andes.

We wasted hours rounding up enough horses and sober gauchos to make the trip. By the time everything was in place, it was around ten in the morning, very late to set out. But we had very little choice because a bus awaited us on the other side, the luggage with all our tents had already left in a truck, and we couldn’t get where we were going any other way. Although we hustled, it was getting dark by the time we arrived at our usual snack place before climbing the pass.

Then it started to rain. As we rode up the pass, it got completely dark. The rain turned to sleet, and problems were beginning to happen. Sixty-eight-year-old Flora had never ridden a horse before except for a little training run. Ben’s stirrup broke, sending him flying and breaking a rib. Steve’s horse threw him and he screamed so loud we thought he was dying. Among the twenty of us, we had only a few headlamps, but we were told to turn them off because the horses could see better in the dark without them. The gauchos kept yelling to keep track of the donkey that carried some of our supplies. Some of our people were furious that the gauchos seemed more worried about the donkey than about us, but as it turned out, the donkey was the only one who knew the way in the dark. I could not see my hand in front of me over that sixteen-thousand-foot pass, and while I had been keeping track of everyone prior to this, I now had no way of doing so. I was blind like everyone else and simply following voices in the dark. It was every Owl for himself.

As we threaded our way through the marshes, a horse reared and threw its occupant into a pond. Fortunately, she was able to get back on but was now soaked through. As we entered the town in the dark, Brad was knocked off his horse when it struck a wire across the trail, and a little bit later another rider’s horse reared up when dogs ran out barking. He crashed to the ground right in front of me and didn’t get up for a while. Finally we tied up the horses and crowded into a little store that sold crackers and things. I looked around with grave concern. Thank God we were all accounted for, but as I looked around I saw bloody faces, tears, torn clothes, exhaustion, wet boots and raincoats, and intense shivering in the cold. I heard groans and whimpering and the chattering of teeth. Townspeople brought us blankets and hot drinks and we were ever so grateful.

To make matters worse, the bus had left, the driver thinking we were not coming because it was so late. Eventually the bus was called back and we had to wait a long time for it to arrive. Damned Owls — everything in the dark. The ride was a somber affair. No one had the energy to even talk; there were just huge sighs and more groaning. I was really worried. This adventure had gone very badly, and I felt completely responsible. I was sure no one would ever want to go on a trip with us again, much less continue this program. I just hoped everyone would recover from their injuries and that no one would die of hypothermia.

When we arrived at the hot springs, it was very cold and I could not imagine everyone setting up tents and sleeping in them. Fortunately, Agustin had called ahead and arranged for us to stay in a new building there. It had a fireplace with a crackling blaze, and a hot meal awaited us. Then everyone spread out on the floor and went to sleep. There was much snoring that night.

The next morning Lena and I decided to have a big check-in to see how everyone was faring. I was prepared for the worst. I figured at the very least we would get yelled at. We got in a big circle and each person spoke. As we went around, my chagrin turned to amazement. People were laughing, excited, telling war stories. Flora, our oldest member who I thought would die, was smiling brightly and said she’d just had the best day of her life. Others who were hobbling around with sticks said they wouldn’t trade the experience for the world. Lena and I were stunned.

Some people like an adventure gone bad more than any other kind; they get to feel their mortality. The Owls had survived. They showed themselves they could come through something very difficult and live to tell about it. It was a victory, and of course they knew it had to be done in the dark. In short, this was a massive bid for power and they knew it.

The next day we did our traditional huachuma ceremony and it was truly amazing. Some of our people could not navigate so well because they were hurting from the harsh journey, so they just found a good spot and settled down with the medicine and enjoyed the hell out of it. Others, sailing on the high of their survival, went deeper than ever before into their own sense of empowerment and discovery of the strength within. The day was filled with awe, laughter, smiles, and deep contentment.

Although years have gone by, the veterans from this trip still regale others with the tale of their trip across the Andes and what an amazing ordeal it was. As I look back I just shake my head and marvel at how things work out even in the direst circumstances.

On a poignant note, Cathy, one of the most vocal about how amazing her trip was, died several weeks later of sudden-onset pancreatitis. When she was in the hot springs she shouted out, “I love all you. You are all my family.” We had no notion that very soon she would no longer be with us. In retrospect I now know why she came on that trip. She had been going through some very difficult times: a divorce and other big challenges. At some level we all know we are going to die and she wanted to do something extraordinary before she did. She was also able to let us all know how much she cared for us before she went. As it turns out, one of our group saw Cathy’s death coming during the huachuma ceremony. She said she just knew but did not know exactly when it would be. It turned out to be sooner than she expected.

Cathy was a heart surgery nurse — an extremely stressful occupation. Some months before this trip she called me and told me that a good friend of hers, a doctor, had dropped dead of a heart attack while performing surgery. She wanted to process this experience with me and I obliged her. A couple of weeks after we returned home, I went to San Diego to pick up Enrique and Herlinda, who were arriving from Peru. We did a couple of ceremonies together in Encinitas, and as I was walking out of the house in the morning, a fair-sized bird suddenly fell out of the sky dead at my feet. I looked up and saw no wires, branches, or obstacles overhead, just clear sky. Instantly I knew someone was going to die; I just did not know who.

I drove Enrique and Herlinda back to Santa Fe and on the way received the news that Cathy had gone into the hospital. Now, Cathy had been to the jungle with us a number of times, and she loved Herlinda and Enrique. So I flew with Enrique to Phoenix, rented a car, and drove to the hospital where Cathy had worked and was now a patient. She was unconscious and had endless machines wired up to her. Enrique and I went to work doing what healing we could in the hospital setting, trying not to interfere with the machines. Enrique and I looked at each other, and we silently communicated with our eyes that we knew she was going. All we could do was help prepare her. I sat next to her for a long time with my eyes closed, and she confirmed that she was exiting this life and it was her chosen time. Enrique and I returned that evening to Santa Fe, and a few days later she was gone.

Although I accepted her choice, it was hard because I had just come through such an adventure with her and saw her at the peak of life. You never know what is going to happen next.

I have come to the conclusion that some people who are attracted to the shamanic path want to use it as preparation for leaving this life. This is not a bad thing, since other than Tibetan Buddhism, religion does not usually prepare people for death very well. Shamanism is comfortable with death and handles it as a rite of passage or state of transition. Thus, some people want to get comfortable with making a transition before choosing on an essence level to do so. Most mature and older souls don’t want to view their death as some kind of failure. They want to see it as a natural transition after learning the lessons of self-acceptance or after having the realization that they are loved after all.

POSTSCRIPT

Sometimes the hardest experiences in life turn out to be the most revitalizing and empowering. One important lesson is to never jump to conclusions about what other people are experiencing. Death sometimes does come suddenly, like a thief in the night. Yet it is never an accident. There are always little signs and warnings along the way. Sometimes it comes with the announcement that one finally feels really and truly loved. That is what Cathy came to learn, and that is where she chose to transfer out. Death is always powerful.

EXERCISE

Think back to a difficult experience that pushed you to your limits: physically, emotionally, and psychologically. Perhaps you thought you were not going to get through it, but then you found the extra strength to navigate it and were able to reach the other side. What warrior actions were required of you? What leader-like responsibilities did you need to take on? How did you manage to find clarity in a confusing, challenging event?