Finding Pachamama
Finding Pachamama
Finding Pachamama
“Sometimes we have to lose ourselves to find our Selves – again.”
Peru reminded me of this—not with a gentle nudge from a forgiving stranger, but with a cosmic whisper growing louder and louder until it became an impatient (yet loving) konk on the head. “Remember?” she seemed to say. “RE-member??!”
It’s hard to deny the power of Peru. This land is a mecca of ancient sacred sites and majestic natural wonders, spanning ecological extremes—from the towering Andes, reaching nearly 20,000 feet, to the vast lowlands of the Amazon basin, home of the world’s longest river. It once held one of the most powerful pre-Columbian civilizations, whose people worshipped Pachamama, the Earth Mother—a goddess of fertility, nature, and truth. Even today, her presence lingers, reminding us of our connection to the world and to ourselves.
Pachamama teaches through cycles. She knows that growth requires change, and change often asks us to let go. While her guidance is rooted in love, it can feel harsh. We see it in nature, in politics, in the upheaval of our personal lives: the old must break apart to make room for the new.
During our time in Peru, I joined a 10-day shamanic retreat deep in the Amazon Jungle. I imagined transformation, lessons, and growth waiting for me. I prepared for weeks, nervous yet excited. But when I arrived, illness hit hard.
For the first five days, I could barely move. Fever burned through me. I couldn’t take conventional medicine. The air was thick and stifling, electricity scarce. Even the bed and pillow offered no comfort. I worried about my health, yet something inside whispered: The show must go on.
Sometimes we have to lose ourselves to find our Selves – again.
The retreat stripped me bare—body, mind, heart, and spirit. On the fifth day, exhausted and broken, I dropped to my knees in tears. And that’s when I finally heard Pachamama’s voice:
Holding onto fear, the world can never feel safe. Holding onto anger, no one can truly be free. Holding onto shame, love’s door can never fully open.
Attachment, I realized, is a sign that something new is aching to be born. Pain and suffering, as unbearable as they feel, are acts of divine love—gifts and invitations for liberation.
Whether through icaros—the magic healing songs of shamans—through witnessing the miracle of life, or even by being tossed beneath Class 5 whitewater rapids, we are reminded of our connection to something greater. We let go of our attachments. We remember that love is, and always has been, the true nature of all things. We were never really lost—we were eternally found.
“The doors to the world of the wild Self are few but precious. If you have a deep scar, that is a door. If you have an old, old story, that is a door. If you love the sky and the water so much you almost cannot bear it, that is a door. If you yearn for a deeper life, a full life, a sane life, that is a door.”
—Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Women Who Run With the Wolves
There is something inside each of us aching to be born, dying to be remembered—and infinite love is always there, holding open the door.
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