by Ross Heaven
In the late afternoon I went atop the Temple of the Moon to watch the sunset. I had recently started the practice of sun gazing and coming down from huachuma was the perfect time for it. I stared into the sun for the final five minutes before it reached the horizon, and as I watched it I went into trance.
In this state I began to see very specific geometry emanating from the sun: a sacred geometry. With my bare feet planted on the Earth and the sun entering my eyes, I felt I was a plant myself, between Mother Earth and Father Sun, there was nothing separate; all existed together along with the planets, stars, moon, galaxies all being one. A difficult moment to put into words, but I felt totally present. Every cell in my body was connected to it all, no past, no future, just present. I was in rapture with the beauty. I thought it would be a lovely thing to paint even though I am not a landscape painter.
Just before arriving in Cusco I’d been contacted by a hospital in the States inquiring about a possible commission. They wanted an artwork for the entrance of the hospital’s heart center wing. They sent me a handful of words and phrases for the subject matter of the piece, but none of them except “nature” resonated with me.
Having visions such as those in San Pedro or ayahuasca helps tremendously for translating images into visual art and so does a strong sentiment, but without the visuals it can be more challenging to execute. In this case I got a strong feeling of a woman emerging from the Earth who was the Earth or a part of it anyway. In the background she was framed by the thing that gives me most peace: sunsets. That image eventually became the basis for the hospital commission.
While in Cusco I got into the practice of despachos. This is a ritual that is done to show gratitude to the Earth and involves burying totemic objects in the ground. If the despacho also involves your personal wishes and intentions, it is burned instead. I had done this kind of offering before, but never really knew about the fine workings of it. While I was staying in Cusco I did a despacho with a friend of a friend who taught me about the process. He was a Q’ero Indian, one of a small Quechua-speaking community who live at high altitudes in an extremely remote corner of the Peruvian Andes. An isolated people for five hundred years until the mid-1990s, the Q’ero traditionally worship Pachamama (Mother Earth) as well as other spirits of the mountains. My friend was a sweet man with an angelic demeanor and he shared everything with me. He even gave me the confidence to do the despacho ritual solo.
Later, four friends and I decided to take a trip to Tiahuanaco to see some sacred sites and do a huachuma ceremony. We got to the Bolivian border after an overnight bus to Puno and a combi (“rough bus”) to Desaguaderos. There were complications with the paperwork for my British friend and me. My residency was in transit and I could have lost it by crossing the border. We thought about sneaking across, a suggestion of my Peruvian artist friend who had done it before, but five people was a bit more complicated than one and so we came up with another plan. We stayed in Peru and went north to Amaru Muru (in Quechua, “Willka Uta”) outside of Juli on Lake Titicaca.
Amaru Muru is an ancient portal carved into a massive rock that resembles a dragon’s back surfacing from the Earth. There was no one else there except for the local farmers who look after the place. We decided to stay and do a ceremony. It is said that if you leave all worldly attachments behind you can pass through the door to other dimensions.
Since I had a good handle on the intent of doing a despacho from the Q’ero, I figured this would be the best place for it. The energy of the site was already high vibration and with huachuma I imagined the intensity would be off the charts. We spoke with some of the local caretakers for permission to stay, and then asked for some wood for a fire later in the night as it was quite cold. They came back with dried cow dung that we could burn and we set up camp. Afterward we all went off on our own to clarify our intentions for the night. We went in different directions. I scaled the top of the rock almost directly above the door itself. It was near sunset so I did sun gazing and saw the same exact sacred geometry swirls emanating from the sun. I thought perhaps they are always there and I just never noticed them in daily life. Perhaps huachuma helps you to see the beauty that is always there.
My intent was clear: I was going to ask for guidance in making the commissioned hospital piece to create something that spoke of showing gratitude to Mother Earth, exactly what I experienced at the Temple of the Moon. It was clear to me that I was not going to be confined to the parameters given.
As I finished sun gazing I looked down to my left and there was a flat piece of rock and in the middle of it there was a little pool of water. I could see a star and a few clouds reflecting in it. The more I looked the less natural it seemed, and sure enough it had been put there by someone. I set my intentions again and put three coca seeds into the water as a trinity of Mother Earth, Father Cosmos, and connection with the Holy Spirit.
Later my friends and I met up at the campsite, lacking tents and sleeping bags, with just layers of ponchos and small backpacks, a casual and spontaneous camp. It was my first nighttime ceremony. We drank huachuma at nine o’clock and soon my friend Sampi was in full conversation, channeling all sorts of fascinating themes and theories. Normally I would jump right in with Sampi, but this time I was not drawn to conversation and kept to myself waiting for the proper moment to proceed with my despacho. A few tourists attempted to pass through the doorway but none succeeded.
After about two hours I got up and went to the door myself. My friend Alex and I spoke for a while and then I asked if I could do my despacho there. I had gathered the proper materials for the offering in Cusco—coca seeds, coca leaves, scallop shell, incense, and a beautiful hand-made alpaca cloth. I laid out the cloth on the inside base of the door and slowly began the process of infusing intent into every object as I had learned to do from the Q’ero, comprising every aspect of my making the artwork including envisioning it complete and the feeling of what it would be like. I spent about an hour and a half blowing my intentions on every symbol, including a crystal I had carried in my pocket for years. I find this very powerful: to give away something you are very attached to and do it with love.
I wrapped up the offering and tied it with string then sat there in silence listening to Sampi ranting in full trance, ridding himself of demons in the near distance. It was the twenty-first of December and a full moon night and the light was fantastic, but well after midnight the clouds started to come in. I went over to the burning dung to warm my body, taking my despacho with me. I sat by the fire for a while and when the moment felt right I set the offering on fire and allowed the air to carry my wishes.
I dozed by the fire, opening my eyes occasionally to look across Lake Titicaca and watch the lightning way off in the distance. I opened them later on and it seemed that the storm was closer. I dozed off again and the next time I looked the storm seemed right on top of us. I felt a few drops of rain and, though wanting to sleep and stay next to the heat, we were all compelled to grab our belongings and run to a small stone shed nearby. By the time we got there, hail and rain had engulfed the area, and we couldn’t hear each other over the noise of the rain and hail on the tin roof. There was no floor, just a pile of stones, as if it were a stone shed to store stones.
We eventually went to sleep and awoke as the light came, without getting much sleep, although I felt an unusual fullness within me. I would not be aware of the full impact and power of the ceremony until a year later, however, when I was back in the States putting the final touches to the painting.
I returned to the Amazon to begin my studies for the piece. I did a sketch out of my head of the ceremony in Cusco and used that as a base. I had a few months to send a more refined sketch of the composition for the approval of the hospital officials who had commissioned it. From the huachuma it was evident what to paint, but it was still a commission and the hospital had given me parameters. I scrapped the parameters, however, and went with the inspiration of the ceremony.
I e-mailed
them an image of the 2 x 4–foot drawing along with a breakdown of the meanings of the symbolism it contained. They approved the idea, were very pleased with it, and said it was exactly what they wanted. They even sent me a poem that one of the donors wrote from being inspired by seeing the drawing. They told me, “Just do it, we love it,” and I was amazed at just how easy it was.
I started on a 4 x 8–foot version of the image next, using numerous studies of landscapes, figures, serpents, gilded symbols, and hummingbirds. I researched the sacred geometry I had seen around the sun as well, and found that it actually exists and has a name: twelve golden ratio spirals with radials.
There is inspiration, and there is another thing maintaining it throughout the making of art. From my experience with ayahuasca I believe that dieting is crucial for showing devotion toward what you are doing, representing the power that comes from giving up something you are attached to. The first couple of days may be uncomfortable, but in the long term it is much more rewarding. It had been almost two years since I had been back to the States, and after I arrived there I went out drinking for a few nights in the beginning. But I began to see the escapism and sadness that is inherent with alcohol. There were some people I had known since grade school and I don’t think they ever took a break from it.
I saw in them a lot of negative emotional stuff, which came up more and more as the drinks continued, and for a few it was the same stuff they were talking about twenty years ago. I thought of Ganesh Baba who warned against the “beefy alcoholics” who ate and drank them selves to death, and observed that “a nonpsychedelic can never enlighten a psychedelic.” That is to say, meat-eating drunks have little to teach a person who has taken psychedelics and (by extension) a person who lives a healthy life.
It was evident that I would have to adjust my lifestyle and stick with the 90 percent raw fruits and vegetables I had worked with back in Peru. Maintaining the inspiration for the art I was working on required devotion, and true devotion comes from within. The actual practice might seem to delve into the mundane, but I was ripe for the mundane. This was contrary to all those years in Italy where drinking wine and celebrating Bacchus was almost a daily ritual, but that energy did not work any more.
The raw food approach has been a lifestyle for me for about ten years now, and I find it works wonderfully with plant medicine. Two blocks from my rented studio were friends who have a healing center and a full-time raw food chef, and they offered me open doors. They introduced me to phytoplankton and the mineral indium and a few other nutritional delights. I brought back kilos of freeze-dried acai and aguaje powder from the jungle, two outstanding superfoods.
I gave myself three months to complete the hospital piece. I set up my temporary studio and got to work. I purchased the materials, prepared the wood panel, gessoed it, and while waiting for curing for the panel I would make subtle changes and refinements to the cartoon. By the first month I had the panel etched and gilded and was ready to begin the painting. Normally I work in natural daylight and the studio was big but not ideal for this, an old house with little light, so I got natural daylight bulbs to compensate.
I got into a rhythm taking care of odds and ends during the day, and then painting in the evening and through the night, finishing between 3:00 a.m. and dawn depending on my energy. Then I would sleep until noon and have a superfood smoothie and do it all again. As long as my nutrition was sufficient I did not lose inspiration, but there is a fine balance between inspiration and burning yourself out. I have forty-five years of experience of going to extremes, but what I practiced here was a constant, steady stream of inspiration and I was always open to take breaks when necessary. I motored through the first nine weeks of work, and then as the painting got more complex I began to slow down. (When starting a painting I usually paint 80 percent of the time and observe for 20 percent, blocking in the bigger images, but near the end that gets reversed.)
It was not until the twenty-first of December rolled around again that I thought back to the despacho I had made at Amaru Muru exactly a year before. Over the last three weeks of work until the painting was finished I had been gobsmacked at where all my energy had come from, almost looking at the work and wondering how it had got there. There had been some challenging moments in it but on the whole it turned out to be the most fluid, joyful piece I had ever created, and there is no doubt that the spirit of huachuma was with me as I made it.
16
San Pedro and the Healing of the Divine Mother
Peter Sterling
Since I was a small child, I have been mystified by the standing stones and pyramids of the ancient sacred sites of the world. Their enigmatic presence has captivated my imagination along with millions of other people around the world.
It seems as though I have been on a quest in one form or another to travel to these mystic places in search of ancient knowledge and spiritual insight, and I have been lucky enough to experience firsthand some of the most famous of these mysterious wonders of the world. From the Mayan jungle lands of the Yucatán to the desert lands of the pharaohs and the stone circles of the British Isles, I have quested to discover their hidden meanings and the sacred knowledge they have held for millennia. Out of all the sacred sites I have visited, however, there is one that has inspired me most: Machu Picchu.
Rising from the veiled rain clouds that surround its lofty peaks, this mountain kept its presence hidden to the world for centuries until its discovery in 1911. Now a symbol of the mystery and magic of the ancient world of the Inca, its terraced ruins and magnificent stonework have stood for centuries and still inspire modern seekers to marvel at its architectural uniqueness and rarefied spiritual atmosphere.
In the winter of 2009 I found myself part of a small, intimate group of people being led on a shamanic journey through the sacred lands of the Inca in Peru. This was to be a transformational journey. Not only would we explore the ancient cities of the Inca and all the wonder and mystery that they hold, but participate in shamanic ceremonies where we would ingest the powerful plant medicines used by indigenous shamans to cross over into the realm of spirit and soul.
Although I had been familiar with the plant teacher ayahuasca before coming on this trip, my primary interest now was to experience its companion medicine, wachuma, or as it is more commonly known, San Pedro. I had felt a connection with this plant for many years as we share the same name—Peter—and I have been referred to at times by the name Saint Peter because I play the heavenly instrument of the harp and create transformational musical experiences inspired by the angels and heavenly realms.
So for many years I felt an intuitive connection to this powerful medicine plant of Peru. I sensed that when the time was right I would have an experience with it and through it would no doubt be transformed in one way or another. I’d heard from people familiar with this medicine that it is psychedelically similar to peyote, which is used by Native Americans and also part of the cactus family. Apparently both San Pedro and peyote share the main active ingredient of mescaline, which is a highly light-infused psychedelic that tends to bring a shimmering brightness to all the eye beholds. Whether one is looking within or outward to external reality, mescaline brings a halo of light to all the eye perceives.
I had tried peyote many years before while living in Arizona and had very powerful and unusual experiences with it. In the books by Carlos Castaneda, who speaks of his apprenticeship under the shaman don Juan, there are many references to the use of peyote and connecting with the deva of the plant, Mescalito. In my experiences with peyote I recall very clearly having the experience of meeting with the spirit of the plant, which seemed to communicate with me in an inner dialogue that brought me to various realizations of my spiritual process and personal relationships. It was healing and illuminating in many ways. Now it was time for me to connect with peyote’s cousin, the great San Pedro.
We arrived in Cusco and made our way to our accommodation for the next few days, a little hostel called Cas
a de La Gringa, a quaint and funky international hostel owned and run by a beautiful South African woman called Lesley or, as she is known in the area, La Gringa. It is at this casa that people come to connect with the powerful plant medicine and teacher San Pedro. La Gringa came to the area thirteen years ago on her personal journey to explore the lands of the Inca. It was on her trip to Peru that she was first introduced to San Pedro. Her experience was life changing and inspired her to learn more about the medicine and share it with others, so that they could transform their lives as she had. She ended up buying a hostel in Cusco and creating a place where people can connect with the sacred medicine.
I remember walking in the front door and down the hall into the main gathering area. Immediately my attention was drawn to a hand-painted sign with an image of a beautiful flowering cactus that said “San Pedro journeys.” At first I was a bit surprised by this openness, but subsequently discovered that San Pedro and ayahuasca are both legal in Peru and ceremonies are advertised around many of the cities and towns of Peru. As I walked around and looked in the various rooms of the casa, to my surprise I saw a Paraguayan harp in the corner of the TV room! I took this as a very good sign and immediately felt at ease, as if angels were guiding my journey.
After a couple of days exploring Cusco and acclimatizing to its altitude of eleven thousand feet, it was time for our first medicine experience at another retreat owned by La Gringa in the hills above Cusco. This special hacienda is called the Mountain House and sits adjacent to the ancient Incan Temple of the Moon, an enigmatic ancient structure carved out of solid rock by ancient shamans, where elaborate ceremonies would be performed at the time of the full moon. As the moon would rise in the night sky, its light shone down into an inner sanctum of the cave and illuminated an altar carved by hand many centuries ago, where sacrifices would be performed to honor the lunar goddess.