My new life

23 Jan 2011

Updated Aug 21, 2008; adds "Toughest Workout"...

Second Despacho, Cacti Love at Grayhawk

"Great Arch" couple grow a "steeple," new flower

SCOTTSDALE, Aug 11, 2008 - It has been a little over a week now that I have felt really at home. By "really," I mean that I have had more than just a few days during which I changed clothes and got ready for another trip. It was the first time since June 27, the day I left for Peru, that I have had a chance to start to integrate our Peru experiences into my everyday life. And it's been a hit and miss record.

Last night, for example, I felt guilty that I had not done any ceremony for three days. So I held a real fire ceremony in my back yard. By "real" here, I mean a fire ceremony around my fire pit with real flames shooting skyward, not just with a white candle in the living room or on the patio. And I felt so much better afterward that I slept for nearly nine hours straight. That's some sort of a record for me.

That emboldened me to do create my second despacho today (left). I inserted the names of the Peru Holy Mountains in the

picture for those who may not be initiated in the symbolism of a despacho. Also, “Apu” is the Quechua term for a mountain spirit. So Apu Ausangate, for example, the mountain where we received the rites of passage, means Mountain Spirit of Ausangate Mtn. There are actually 12 Holy Mountains in Peru. But I added Waimi Picchu, Machu Picchu’s twin mountain, because that’s the peak we all see in pictures and think of when we think of Machu Picchu (right photo).

"Armed with all that shamanic knowledge," you can now follow what happened when I actually got to Camelback Mtn, my home mountain in Arizona (the right two shots). Even though it was 107F (42C) at the time, I wrapped myself in the poncho I got at Urubamba monastery in the Sacred Valley. And then, just as I said my four winds prayers, strong gusts of wind hit me (again!), knocking the camera out of my hand. As a result, you got to see a close up of the poncho (rightmost shot). :-) But at that point, I was still too slow to understand what was going on... that the spirits were actually communicating with me in their inimitable way.

Check out also a short video clip I made at my Camelback "prayer rocks" (above). I posted it later on at YouTube for faster viewing. Then, just as I was about to add a "post script' to the video...

...another strong gust of wind materialized out of nowhere, sending the camera tumbling down the "prayer rocks" (above). :-)

One final omen happened at the prayer rocks after my despacho ceremony. As I was packing up my mesa, another strong gust of wind knocked a beautiful red coral rock (left) out of it. The rock tumbled right down the altar into the dying fire of the despacho. I instinctively reached for it and took it out, careful not to burn my fingers as I did it. Then another gust of wind hit my mesa wrapper before I was able to tie it up. And the same beautiful rock (!) tumbled out of it again, down the same alter back into the fire. This time, I left it there. I got the message. The Apus wanted the rock. They did not want it in my mesa.

Now to understand why I was so fond of this rock, you have to believe in birthstones. Red coral is one of my birthstones,

according to Indian astrology. I got the one I left on the mountain this afternoon back in April, when I learned that fact from someone who had studied under an East Indian guru for years. It is the largest one in that right photo. But I forgot to pack it in my mesa when I left for Peru. So this rock was NOT a part of the mesa that the mountain spirits blessed several times and initiated during our Celestial Despacho ceremony on July 8, and during the final rites of passage the following day. And today, the Apus reminded me of it. Twice! To me, that seemed like a definitive proof that they received my despacho, wouldn't you say?

I chuckled at THE WAY they communicated with me - through all those gusts of wind. "Typical," I thought, remembering what Apu Ausangate told us before our mountain trip (to look for his signs in the clouds, rocks and lagoons). And considering what happened to me on McDowell Mtns before my trip to Peru (see McDowell Mtns: Farewell Hike, June 2008).

"Thanks for the reminder," I told the mountain spirits as I gave up my most beautiful mesa stone. I tucked it in for the Apus where it fell in the smoldering despacho.

At the end of my despacho ceremony, I played some Inka music that I had recorded earlier for just this purpose. So when I started to climb down Camelback, I was still playing it. Check it out in this short video clip...

By the time I descended from Camelback, the shadows were lengthening as you could see in the above video. I had forgotten that I still had my poncho on. I was reminded of that by curious glances of a couple of climbers I had. They were heading up the mountain. So I took it off. It felt good, too, to have it off, given that it was still about 107F (42C). I've come a long way down to the desert from the freezing temperatures of the high Andes.

As I was walking down the mountain, I also thought of a question I had just received in an e-mail from a dear friend in Ohio. This former newspaper reporter and editor who rightfully checks and triple checks every story with an "I am from Missouri" (the "show me" state) frame of mind, asked the following question about my Peru experiences:

I had not yet replied to her, but I was doing it now - while kicking up dirt on the Camelback Mtn trail. And it was an unequivocal - "YES!" My experiences did provide invaluable answers to love and life. I only wish more people had the good fortune to discover them. There were only 35 of us from the West on the shamanic journey in the Andes.

My writer-friend also quoted one of my own favorite sayings when I face a challenge: "It's a matter of mind over matter: If you don't mind, it doesn't matter." :-) Except that when it comes to universal love, "it is a matter of heart over both mind and matter."

For, the answers my spiritual journey has provided so far are more in the category of FEELINGS than thoughts; more about matters of the HEART than of the mind. The Peru mountain spirits have let me experience UNCONDITIONAL LOVE in a way that I had felt it only once before (also while on my recent spiritual journey - on May 11, 2008 in Montenegro (see "Out of This World"_. [Oh, my God... I just realized: Today is also an 11th day of the month!] But back to my earlier train of thought... it is the kind of love that is so all-encompassing that it is not focused on any particular person. Yet it is so powerful that it shakes you right down to your roots. And it leaves you filled with utter bliss.

"So, yes, yes, and yes," I said to my dear friend from Ohio. "I did find some amazing answers about love and life in Peru."

No sooner had those thoughts crossed my mind and those feelings entered my heart, when something happened that made me realize I was not alone; that there were some "eavesdroppers" on my above thoughts and emotions. I was thinking I was all done for the day on Camelback Mtn, but the mountain spirits weren't finished "talking" to me.

To see what they had to "say," out this video clip (below) that I made at the end of the Camelback Mtn trail...

"I love you, too," I replied to the mountain spirits off camera. I could see that they evidently agreed with my "written," but as yet unsent, message to my Ohio friend.

"Strange how things like that happen," I thought afterward on the drive home. I must have stepped on that rock a hundred times. But it was only today that it carried a LOVE sign for me, at least in this three-dimensional world.

Then I chuckled again, quickly changing the film. This time, I was smiling because I managed to burn another despacho without getting arrested for starting an open air fire in 107F weather in the middle of a desert city. "Thank you, my dear Apus," I said out loud. :-)

And that's all she wrote from my home mountain in Arizona. What happened was evidently a continuing echo of our Peru adventure. Like the first despacho, this one started with prayers and ended up in smoke... that carried the prayers all the way to the Andes' Apus. And they responded to it in their own inimitable way.

OTTSDALE, Aug 14 - Remember the song "Puppy Love?" What did it mean to you? To some, the term

connoted the love of pets, like the two cute Golden Retriever puppies in the left picture. To others, like Donny Osmond in 1972, "Puppy Love" meant a young love, an explosion of unexpected feelings between adolescent humans. But ever heard of "Cacti Love?" Well, that's what I saw in my back yard this morning.

But first, we need to go back that story from April - about how I took off two arms that were threatening to topple a large cactus in my back yard, and stuck them

in the ground, making the shape of a "Great Arch?" (see "Grayhawk Blossoms," April 2008).

"Who is to say that St. Louis is the only place in the U.S. with a Great Arch?," I joked. I added that, "the more romantic among you may think of this nature's sculpture as 'kissing cacti'." (right photo)

"But don't ask me what I had to do to induce them to do it," I teased. "That's a secret. What happens at Grayhawk, stays at Grayhawk... :-) [On the other hand, if you want to guess what I did - guess away! And let me know]." (an excerpt from "Grayhawk Blossoms," April 2008).

Well, little did I know... (that they were doing more than just 'kissing'). Look what the Great Arch couple produced this summer while I was gallivanting around the world... (left).

One of them put a "steeple" on the arch (one on the left), while the other one (right) blossomed a beautiful flower, as if it were springtime instead of the middle of the summer. Not hard to tell which is a male and which a female, right? :-) But my caption for this shot would be "Cacti love" (also see "Sex on the Mountain," May 2008).

By now, you probably know about my "birds and I"-stories? (I suspect some of may be thinking of "birds and bees" stories? But that's not it). :-) Various kinds birds always seem to find me and hover around me, even at 14,000 feet on Waiki Willa in Peru. Perhaps as Spirits' messengers? (also see "The Birdman," June 2008, and "Climbing Camelback," Apr 2008). Guess we can start to count in some plants as such as well.

So "Birdman" with a "green thumb?" Well, I can't really say that I have a "green thumb." Mine looked more like a "red beet" after picking out the cacti thorns from it during the transplant operation last spring. :-) But in the end, the two cacti stopped fighting and started loving each other (click on "Besame Mucho" ["kiss me much"]).

"It's a matter of mind over matter: If you don't mind, it doesn't matter" (Bob Dj. of the old)

"It's NOT a matter of mind over matter: It's a matter of LOVE over BOTH" (Bob Dj., a newly minted shaman)

SCOTTSDALE, Aug 21, 2008 - Most of the day today, I felt sort of sluggish. I did not get my usual amount of sleep last night. Whenever I feel draggy like this, I usually kick ass - my own. Well, today's kick propelled my posterior all the way to the top of the McDowell Mtn's Windgate Pass (over 3,000 ft). And it happened quite unwittingly. So what started out

as sluggishness, led to the toughest workout in a very long time, if not ever. Yes, even harder than the toughest day in the High Andes in Peru. Consider the facts... (and see the map - right).

Overall, my today's workout lasted six hours (2:30PM - 8:30PM). During that time, I did an eight mile-round trip (13 km) mountain hike that included an elevation difference of 2,600 feet. The hike was bracketed by two bike rides in the McDowell foothills of about 45 and 25 mins respectively, with a half-hour workout with weights in the gym squeezed in between. When I began my hike, the temperature at the trailhead was 115F (46C). At the top of the Windgate Pass, it was 85F-90F (29C-32C). I started my workout in the heat of the day, and finished it in pitch darkness, 1.5 hours after sunset.

By comparison, the toughest workout in Peru in a single day was a four-hour 1,600 ft climb up Mt. Ausangate, from 13,900 to 15,500 feet where our base camp was set up. So if you trade off the Arizona desert heat for the Andes high altitude, you can see why I thought today was "tougher than the toughest day in the High Andes."

Once again (just like during "Divine Hike & Wet Dreams," Aug 14), I did not have my "regular" camera with me. I did not intend to set any personal hiking records today, just shake myself up and out of sluggishness. But once I got on the mountain, I just kept going, and going, and going... to places high up and deep inside the McDowell Mtn passes to which I had never been before.

My biggest challenge was a lack of water. Pretty stupid, I know, for a "desert rat" like yours truly. I actually did take two bottles of water with me, "just in case," but left one on my bike at the club. I finished the one I had with me just before reaching the Inspiration Point at 2,800 ft (two right shots - isn't that a great name for it?). Which meant that I had to cover about 60% of the eight-mile mountain hike without water. Pretty stupid, as I said. My only excuse is that I wasn't planning to get this far. I know, it's a lame excuse.

Anyway, it was at the Inspiration Point that I not only paused to take pictures and rest up, but also performed my shamanic ceremony, my second of the day. I found a natural "uaca" (sacred site or an altar) there, with gorgeous views to the west sprawling below. It is truly an inspirational spot for ceremonies and meditation.

"Curiosity killed the cat," they say, "but satisfaction brought her back." Having gotten this far, I had to satisfy my curiosity and keep climbing till I reached the Windgate Pass (above) at a little over 3,000 ft. I did not realize at this point that I had already hiked four miles up the mountain (and, therefore, would have to cover the same distance going back). Nor did I consider the time of day, or the time it would take me to get back to the clubhouse.

What I did notice was a little bird, about 20 yards off the trail. He was chirping so loudly and persistently as he was trying to get my attention. "What else is new?" I thought. "It wouldn't be a mountain hike if I didn't have some sort of a bird encounter" (also see even at 14,000 feet on Waiki Willa in Peru; "The Birdman," June 2008, and "Climbing Camelback," Apr 2008). I resisted a temptation to go over and see what all the shouting was about. I looked at the setting sun and thought, "Hm... maybe I'd better get started down the mountain."

Anyway, it was 6:15PM by the time I headed back down the trail. Sunset in Arizona at this time of the year is around 7PM. I realized by then that it would be pitch dark by the time I make it to the club. If I make it. For, my throat felt parched dry, as dry as the desert ground around me. And my knees were killing me. No injuries. Just overstressed. I also had some other physical issues that I'd rather not talk about here.

But I never lost faith. I knew the spirits would pull me through. Not "hope." "Knew!" Just like during the "Divine Hike & Wet Dreams" last week. I could hear the voice of Jose Luis, the leader of our expedition in Peru, telling us before we headed out to Mt. Ausangate, "The mountain will carry you. It will absolutely carry you, if you have faith and open your heart to it."

So that's what I tried to do. The whole time down the mountain, I kept humming Peruvian tunes, as well as "Chiquitita," the ABBA song that has taken on a special meaning for me in the last couple of months (see Chiquitita, as posted on YouTube; 2:59 mins, June 2008). And I was also giving myself a pep talk, saying out loud, "Don't stop. Just put one foot in front of the other. The mountain will carry you. Just put one foot in front of the other. Keep moving. Don't stop."

Meanwhile, my eyes were getting blurry and my ears were popping. I wondered if those were symptoms of dehydration and losing consciousness. But then, I couldn't be losing consciousness if I am thinking about it, I kept reassuring myself.

I also had visions... or maybe hallucinations. First, of that bottle of water I had left on my bike. I kept playing the scene in my head: I am walking toward it, taking it out of its pouch, and draining it in one fell swoop. Second, I also dreamt about the ice cold smoothie I was going to have at the club. It tasted "oh, so good! Third, I was cooling off in an imaginary club pool.

The entire time, I was the only human on the mountain. That's one of the reasons I love hiking the McDowells. No crowds. Solitude. Just me and the mountain and occasional birds. But I could see by the droppings on the trail that there must be coyotes and mountain lions around, too. They'd be probably looking for their dinner by nightfall. I brushed the thought aside. "The spirits are with me," I told myself. "They will help me get down the mountain unharmed. So quit thinking stupid thoughts like that."

And I also kept telling myself as well as the mountain spirits, "I will walk down the mountain on my own. My thirst and the knees will not stop me. I will make it."

It was just like that happened on Mt. Ausangate, after I had injured my left knee on our last full day in the mountains - during descent from our "rites of passage" ceremony on Colka Cruz Mtn. I kept telling myself and the mountain spirits the same thing. "I will walk down the mountain on my own. My knee will not bother me. I will make it."

And I did. The mountain carried me. My injured knee only started hurting again in England, five days after our descent from Mt. Ausangate. Recalling that helped embolden me. So I kept repeating this evening, "I will not cramp up. Thirst will pass. I will make it to the clubhouse on my own. The McDowell Mtn will carry me. I just did a ceremony in its honor, as well as that of the Apus in Peru and Camelback Mtn. The Apus will not let me down."

And they didn't. When I finally reached the club's parking lot, I started counting the steps to that bottle in my bike. And I did drain it in one fell swoop, just as I imagined it on the mountain. I also had four or five other big cups of water and a large strawberry and mango smoothie. Yum!

Then I jumped on the bike and rode it home, in pitch darkness again. Once again, I knew I was going to make it. I kept saying out loud again, "I will not cramp up. I will make it home uninjured." And did. Just had one small glitch. My front bike wheel hit a curb which I did not notice in darkness. So I sort of "fell." But it was a slow motion fall during which neither the bike nor I were harmed.

But even that incident had a silver lining to it. Or two. First, just before the fall, my right leg muscles behind the knee did start to cramp up a little. After the fall, I pushed my bike for about 10-15 yards, just to make sure I was okay. When I jumped back on it, the cramp was gone. So who knows, maybe I took a spill for a reason... to cure the cramp. For, I don't remember the last time I fell off a bike. It must have been decades ago.

So what's the second silver lining? Well, while I was pushing the bike, I noticed that my hind wheel was "catching" a bit on every turn. It is quite possible that that's something that had been there all along, and that I have had to use extra "oomph" on every turn of the pedals. I had had that problem once before with this bike. I just never noticed it "catching" before starting to push it. And I have been thinking about getting a new bike anyway. This one is pretty old and beat up through constant use. And now I might get a new one, and donate this one to a poor Mexican family I know. After I get it fixed first, of course.

The bike incident reminded me of a similar slow motion fall I had at our base camp on Mt. Ausangate during which I managed to preserve my breakfast cereal in the plate I was holding. It was quite funny. So I chuckled again tonight.

Finally, again, just like in England, a delayed reaction. I did get a mild leg cramp this evening at home, while stretching in the pool. The other leg. It was my left adductor or soaz muscle that was unhappy for a few seconds. It reminded me that I am human, and should not be taking chances like that on the mountain today. The benign warning came more than an hour after I had returned home from my mountain adventure.

"Got it!" I told the spirits. "Won't do it again. But thank you for bailing me out again this time. I love you. You're great!"

A few days ago, another writer-friend of mine reminded me of my old saying, "It's a matter of mind over matter: If you don't mind, it doesn't matter."

What happened today would seem to fit that one-liner perfectly. But doesn't. Not anymore. Not after Peru. Not after our shamanic initiation at Colka Cruz, and all the hard steps we had to take that led to it. I now know is that it is not just "a matter of mind over matter." "It's a matter of love over both."

(I am referring here to the universal, unconditional love that engenders faith and trust, and ultimately... PEACE, including the peace of mind. Also see " My Second Despacho Ceremony" - above - and "Divine Hike & Wet Dreams" - for more celestial reaffirmations of that new truism).

And so, that's all she wrote from an unwitting six-hour record breaking workout that followed a feeling of sluggishness. An unwitting workout led to an unexpected spiritual reaffirmation.

SCOTTSDALE, Aug 22 - Well, I spoke too soon when I said there was no harm done either to me or to my bike. I am still okay. But when I took my bike to the shop for repairs to fix that "catching" problem, I discovered that my front tire was flat. And I have the "thorn-resistant" tires, too. So had to put my bike on the injured list. Still, the good old two-wheeler got me home last night before giving up the ghost. For which I am grateful to it as well as to the spirits that kept it going so I can recover and write about the adventure.