Above all things, reverence yourself...

The following day wachuma had left us a little fuzzy mentally and a little lazy physically.  In fact, it took us until four in the afternoon to action our plan of a walk in the hills.  The idea, which began as a five hour trek along the full length of the island, had been demoted to a visit to the ruins north of Challapampa. There were yet more well-preserved ruins along the way including a stone circle with what appeared to be a sacrificial table, labyrinthine ruins and la Roca Sagrada (the Sacred Rock).  An easy walk on paper was made more difficult by the altitude and intense sunshine.  On our return we headed back to the usual restaurant for more food from a limited menu.  Where's the pizza when you need it?

 

 

Saturday was another chance to work with wachuma, this time we'd decided to approach the ceremony with more reverence.  As before, we created an altar combining offerings of sweets to Pachamama with crystals, incense and images.  Centring ourselves with some meditation first brought us into the right state of mind.  The San Pedro was dispensed into cups as I focussed some positive intention into the water we were to use for mixing.  One by one we drank the liquid which resembled dried spinach in water, it went down fairly well with only a little difficulty.  A little Agua de Florida was used to help cleanse the aura and protect us on our journey.  Once the initial actions had been completed we settled down to wait quietly for the effects to manifest.

The journey, as always, increased in intensity very slowly.  It was only late in the afternoon I realised how strong it was.  It's incredibly difficult to describe in words what is really a felt experience.  One thing which is common to all my wachuma experiences is the altered perception of time.  As we sat on the roof terrace throughout the day I had an increasing sense that other places beyond the shores of Lake Tiiticaca didn't exist.  That only what was in my immediate perception was of significance.  Past and future were irrelevant and all  my attention was in the present moment.  Birds performing acrobatics to catch insects, children flying makeshift kites in the wind, pigs furrowing in the sand for scraps and the occasional hysterical bellow of a nearby donkey.  All motion came together as one giant piece of theatre staged in a landscape that was so staggeringly beautiful it was hard for the eyes to take in.

As the day wore on we became increasingly absorbed in music, particularly that of Snatam Kaur, whom I was lucky enough to see in London before heading out to Peru, a real blessing for the trip.  We discussed thoughts that arose, laughed together, meditated and observed curious passers-by until the sun began to set.  We held the space far more effectively than the previous day and all three of us confirmed we'd got a lot from the ceremony.  However, it's always strange for me in the middle of the day, I much prefer the dark of night.  I felt the calling of ayahuasca once again.

On heading to the beach for a snack we encountered a calf which had become stuck under the ramshackle wooden jetty.  Whilst Chantal tried to calm the distressed beast, Lieve went to seek assistance.  A local treadesman reluctantly agreed to help, however, he was afraid of trouble as he was not the owner.  Despite his fear he trod through the mud and untied the rope thereby freeing the calf.  We bought him a stash of goodies from the shop as a present leaving everyone very satisfied.  There was something about the episode which was enhanced by wachuma.  The distress of the animal was felt far more strongly, empathy for the suffering of others being more intensely felt.

Satisfied and tired we settled down for a meal when I spotted John, an American I'd met in the Museum of  Sacred, Magical and Medicial Plants.  There we'd been talking about San Pedro and here I was, journeying.  Synchronicities like this, as well as phenomena such as deja vu, seem to increase in frequency when working with plant medicines.  We spent the evening together making plans for future journeys whilst the inky black night took over from the blues, greens and oranges of the sunset.  What a day!

The rest of our time on the exquisite Isla del Sol was spent sunbathing, reading, swimming and relaxing before catching the boat back to Copacabana on the Monday.  The island was a rare gem within the Andean Odyssey.  One of those places that, only three years ago, had very little in terms of development for tourism.  Now, it has facilities enough to be comfortable without being over-developed.  Local traditions, of day-long town meetings and weddings at which only one song was played for eight hours straight, are still alive and kicking.  The people are gentle and kind, the pace of life so slow it's difficult to get into initially.  Perhaps that's why so many tourists barely put down their bags, too busy to see the paradise before their eyes.