Morning in the sacred valley
I am sitting in pisac valley surrounded by sacred mountains who’s names I have yet to learn. I am smoking a cigarette in the early morning, listening to the waking of the birds. The purple corn stalks are still this morning, despite the cool breeze across my legs.
I have been on the road for a month now, and have lived through so many different experiences. And seen so many parts of myself bloom and wilt and seed themselves all over again, returning to the mystery of the wild. All of it, every person, place and moment I encounter is cut from the selfsame cloth of love. All showing me how to soften, the Value of focus and feeling alike. Some moments I have met with grace, and others with old fear brimming again. But all of it is gift, and where I am moving I touch all I can, giving back my own gifts and feeling them held. This is newness, somehow seen through barriers of language and custom alike, I remain apart, encircled and handheld by other lives waking, by other minds dreaming, all of us burning in a flame of encounter, of all us quenched by the waters of recognition.
The yellow flowers in my tea are melting, and outside the window women begin to pour out the sounds of healing songs. In two days, I sit in ceremony under the full face of the moon.
I miss the home I have made, but know it alive and yet changing day after day. As I rode the tiny path up the side of the Andes I exploded with a laughter only a child can know. How funny to feel so much a woman and still with these moments of pink babe new.
Wonder, I think is the best medicine I know.
Fear I believe is learned, as we grow…
Well on this road I made and I meet
Wonder welcomes us home.
I share the two words that hold the key to a life full and felt with depth, or at least that’s what is working for me, as I wander and I see. May they aid you to in whatever way you need:
Remain open.
Sending love to you all. There’s so much to say. I’ll be writing more in the coming days.