Trekking the Inka Trail to Machu Picchu with my guru and sangha brought me into a macrocosmic, unimaginable awe. Descending into the Amazon immersed me in the microcosmic bounty and beauty of all that travels, slithers, grows, walks, crawls, swims, and climbs upon this incredible earth and through its waters.
When I arrived in Cusco, my first priority was to see the Andean condors—one of the largest flying birds in the world. On our way to a canyon where they are known to gather, we had the fortune of visiting an Inkan moon temple on the day of the full moon, a sacred site that is still used for worship today. Sitting in the very place where the Incan queen mummies were once honored was a magical and deeply moving way to begin our journey through Peru.
Where the queen mummies were found and the moonstone
As soon as we reached the canyon, we spotted two condors soaring high overhead. It felt like a welcome. In Inka cosmology, the condor is associated with Hanan Pacha, the upper world, and with freedom. Watching these enormous birds glide effortlessly thousands of feet above the canyon floor took my breath away. Their grace brought tears to my eyes.
We spent several hours watching them come and go from a towering cliff above the Apurímac Canyon. Just as we were preparing to leave, a family of condors—two adults and a juvenile—began soaring beneath us, above us, and so close we could hear the rush of their wings. Witnessing their effortless flight, I found myself contemplating freedom. Where am I bound? How do I clip my own wings? Where am I afraid to soar? Is freedom ingrained in every being’s DNA, like it is in the condor’s?
Continuing in the footsteps of the Inkas, we trekked for four days to reach Machu Picchu. It was the most physically demanding hike I have ever undertaken. The high elevation and endless stone steps were both humbling and intimidating. On our second day we crossed two mountain passes, including Dead Woman’s Pass at 13,828 feet.
With each step upward, I returned to my breath. The altitude and relentless climb could easily leave me gasping for air and stir feelings of panic. Yet through the powerful practices my guru has taught me, I was able to remain close to my breath, using it as both an anchor and a guide—helping me know when to slow down and when I could continue. My breath became my closest companion on the trail.
The breath is a profound teacher. It reveals where I am physically, energetically, and emotionally. Whether I am climbing a mountain, sitting with a client, eating a meal, or preparing for sleep, the breath is always there, inviting me back into awareness.
Arriving to Machu Picchu
Pause for a moment and notice your own breath. Can you tell which nostril is more open right now? Can you feel where the breath moves your torso—or doesn’t? Can you notice the temperature of the inhale compared with the exhale? As you became aware of your breath, did it change? Did that awareness shift the state of your mind or energy?
The final part of my journey brought me deep into the wilderness of the Amazon. The people, plants, insects, animals, birds, rivers, sounds, and colors were mesmerizing. Our guide, Fernando, told us we had an 80 percent chance of seeing a jaguar because it was mating season.
In Inka cosmology, the jaguar—or puma, depending on the region—is associated with Kay Pacha, the earthly realm, as well as inner strength and courage. On our very first day on the river, we were blessed to spend thirty minutes watching a jaguar lounging on a log across the river, all while a caiman quietly stalked beneath the surface only a few feet away. I never wanted to leave that place, held in the quiet power of her presence.
As we climbed back into the boat, tears came with gratitude for a moment I will never forget. I found myself contemplating my own power. Where does my inner strength come from? What allows me to access it? Where do my fears arise? When do I have the courage to meet them, and when do I retreat?
Throughout the trip, it became a running joke that we were going to see an anaconda, despite how extraordinarily rare they are to see. We didn’t see a snake until our final day, when Fernando led us to visit an ancient tree. There, we were blessed with time alongside a five-foot mussurana.
In Inka cosmology, the snake is associated with Ukhu Pacha, the underworld, the ancestors, death and rebirth, the cycles of renewal, and wisdom. Watching this shimmering black snake move effortlessly across the forest floor, tasting the air with her tongue before disappearing into the earth to capture her meal, we all found ourselves coming to the earth to be closer to her.
As I watched her disappear, I reflected on the teachings of my own lineage, where kundalinī lies coiled three and a half times at the base of the spine in the mūlādhāra cakra before awakening and ascending through the cakras to the sahasrāra at the crown of the head. I contemplated wisdom as an awakening force—one that can carry us through all the worlds. When I remain trapped in the past, clinging to what is already dead, I lose access to the power of the present. It is that attachment that binds me and keeps me from flying free.
My guru often speaks about the concept of khecarī—one who moves through the sky, naked, boundless, and free. Throughout my journey in Peru, I found myself returning to this image.
Whether lying on my back watching the condors and remembering that freedom is part of our nature; standing atop a mountain trusting my breath to guide each step; sitting before a jaguar and recognizing the courage and power that is within me and all beings; or witnessing a snake embody the eternal cycles of birth, death, and renewal, each experience became an invitation to touch that boundless state of khecarī. It is found in the present whenever I return to my breath, meet my fears with courage, recognize when the dead past or the unborn future are keeping me trapped, and awaken fully to this moment.