Posts on the Andean Cosmovision

Year: 2011 (Page 3 of 8)

Salka

Salka is like a wind that blows through consensus reality from beyond, bringing us into contact with the great mystery and beauty of existence.

‘Salka’ is a Quechua word (the language of the Andes) for ‘natural’ or ‘not domesticated’ energy. The wolf, for example, is more salka than the dog, the condor is more salka than the chicken, and the deer is more salka than the sheep. Salka is the natural energy of all life, it is not quite accurate to say that some beings are more salka than others, it might be better to say that some are more domesticated than others. Domestication is like a veneer through which the light of salka shines through.

People in my culture, including myself, are very domesticated. Much of our attention, energy, and activities are shaped by the social/industrial/technological environment that our society has created. What time I get up, what clothes I put on, how I make a living, what I do for entertainment, are all organized around the rules and options provided by our society. Even more important than the domestication of our time and energy, however, is the domestication of our understanding of who we are as beings in this Cosmos.

The very concept of ‘who we are as beings in this Cosmos’ may seem strange as many of us think about ourselves in terms of our roles in our society, or in our family, or in our place of work. Our ideas of ‘self’ tend to be very domesticated. My society has ideas about what it means to be human (drawn largely from science or religion), what it means to be male (drawn largely from Madison Avenue), what it means to be a professor, a father, a husband, and so on. There are some options supported within those roles, and there is always the possibility for rebellion, but even then my thoughts about myself are largely in relationship to what my society proscribes.

Being a domesticated human is great, it opens the door to all of the comforts and opportunities that our society can provide. There are, however, two major drawbacks to this domestication. One drawback is that our society has created an environment where what it takes to survive in a city or thrive in a business involves behaviors that are killing our planet, and this is accompanied by incentives to downplay or hide this consequence. The second drawback to domestication within our society is that it only recognizes and supports part of the totality of who we are. In modern society who we are is mainly a ‘consumer’ and we (at least in the U.S.) are bombarded with thousands of messages a day designed to reinforce that aspect of our existence. The good news is that we are vastly more mysterious beings than our society would have us believe.

Salka is also part of our heritage as beings on this planet. There are people in the high Andes who are very salka. Imagine being a young child living at 15,000 feet in a tiny settlement in the Andes. You live in your family’s small stone house, built of the material of the Pachamama, such a house is known as a ‘wasi-tira’ (literally a ‘house of the Earth’). The heart of the house is the q’uncha, an oven made of earth, a hardened hollow dome of adobe that has a opening on the side for feeding wood into the fire and a few openings on top that are just the right size to sit the pots. You awake in the morning to the warmth of the q’uncha and the aroma of the soup that your mother is cooking for the family. Climbing out from under the llama skins you prepare to take your family’s alpacas up the mountain to feed. You take along your warak’a, a woven sling that you use to throw rocks to the side of the herd to direct them where you want them to go and as protection from the pumas, the condors, and the foxes of the high Andes.  As the sun licks the frost off the ground you slowly lead the herd up the mountain, to perhaps 16,000 feet, where there is ichu grass upon which they can feed. You find a comfortable place to sit. A thousand feet below is your home, a little smoke coming out of the hole in the roof. But up here it is all wild. Despite your being at 16,000 feet the Andean peaks tower high above you. All you hear is the soft steps of the alpacas as they graze, and the wind coming down from the mountains. The air is clear and the towering peaks, although they are miles away, seem almost close enough to touch. Below you a condor glides down the valley, barely moving its wing tips to control its flight. You notice clouds gathering around the Apus, perhaps the Apus will send rain in your direction, or even the deadly thunder and lightening. And you know that the Apus are as aware of you as you sit there as you are of them. This is salka, you are surrounded by salka, and you are salka too.

As much as it can be defined in words salka is the essence of who we are, our domesticated self is built on top of that as we mature in our culture. To reach the full expression of being human we need to know both, it just happens to be that in our culture the emphasis is overwhelmingly toward our domesticated self. The Andean meditations help us get in touch with the salka aspect of our being.

Salka is beyond definition, beyond comprehension, it is vastly mysterious, and tied somehow to innate beauty. As we are, in essence, salka the same can be said of us. I suspect that the nature of great art is that it provides a path for salka to emerge into our domesticated life. We don’t need to be skilled at drawing, or music, or poetry to express salka. “My suggestion is that you make your life a work of art.” (Americo Yabar)

Epilog One: Some friends and I were bumping along a dirt road through the Andes in a minivan. The Beatles are rather big in Peru and the driver had put on a cd that could be described as ‘101 Pan Pipes do the Beatles’. We were all singing ‘With a Little Help from My Friends’ as we passed through a small village in the mountains. What struck me suddenly, very deeply, was that the Beatles were an expression of something, some way of being in the world, of some way the world could be, and that somehow, despite its surface appearance and its poverty, the village I was looking at was the world the Beatles were singing about.

Later I read a story about the anthropologist Gregory Bateson (1904-1980). A student asked him what the purpose of art was. He replied that the purpose of art was to make life seem worth living. The student then asked him if he knew of any contemporary artists who had actually pulled that off. After a long pause, he replied ‘The Beatles’.

Epilog Two: On one of my trips to Peru we traveled to a very salka village high in the Andes. To get there we had to drive for six hours on a dirt road from Cusco and then get on horses and travel for two days through the mountains, going over two 17,000 passes. The village itself was at 15,000 feet. We set up camp on the other side of a hill from the village. The next morning I got up and had a cup of coffee and sat on a stone watching the sun rise. I began to write in my journal. Looking up I was surprised to see a small girl staring at me from a few feet away. She was very salka, and she had come from the village to check us out. There began one of the most touching moments of my life, and my friend just happened to lean out of her tent and take our picture.

Oakley meeting a young Q'ero girl.

I didn’t speak Quechua and she of course didn’t speak English. But I have been the father of young children and I know how to communicate without the necessity that the words be understood. I touched her necklace and told her how pretty it was, I said other nice things to her with an open heart, and then she settled down with me and together we watched the day slowly begin to unfold.

Oakley and girl watching the morning.

Sharing a Salka Moment

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Ayni

I would like to turn now to what may be the most fundamental aspect of the Andean Cosmovision, ‘ayni‘.  Ayni is the principle of reciprocity. The essence of ayni is that when you receive something you give something back in return. This keeps balance in the relationship, but it also does more than that, it nourishes the relationship as well.

Ayni informs the Andean people’s relationships with each other, and in that context it can be easily understood. It is when the Andean people apply ayni to their relationship with Nature and the Cosmos that we move into mysterious territory and begin to glimpse the profound beauty of their Cosmovision. To understand how ayni works in this context we first need to understand their very different view of Nature and the Cosmos. It is not possible to have a true relationship with inert, mindless, matter, and in the Western view of reality that is how rivers, and stones, and trees, and the Cosmos itself are basically seen. We can love a forest, or the Earth, but within our world view it is hard to conceive of them loving us back. The Andean people have a very different experience of reality, one that allows true relationships with Nature and the Cosmos. This was covered in the earlier post  Andean Cosmovision: The Basics and I recommend that if you haven’t already that you read it and the post Barefoot in the Mountains before proceeding so that you will be better able to understand what I am going to say about ayni.

Village men threshing wheat

Village men threshing wheat.

Let us begin by looking at ayni in the context of the Andean people and their relationships with each other. Ayni shows up clearly in the work that the people in a village perform together. When it is time to work a family’s field the men and women in the community unite to work it as a community. The sowing of a field, for example, involves a line of men working foot plows to overturn the soil, followed by a line of women who plant the seeds. When such communal work is done the recipients rarely express thanks, for it is just part of life that they will then establish balance by working their neighbor’s fields in turn. When you give you receive, and when you receive you give, balance is maintained, both sides are nourished, and the community is healthy.

Reciprocity is like a pump at the heart of Andean life. The constant give-and-take of ayni…maintains a flow of energy throughout the ayllu [community]. Allen, 2002, pg 73.

I would like to share some of my own experiences with ayni, from the perspective of a Westerner entering into a relationship with the Andean people. My trips to Peru involve working with various paqos and healers, and this ‘working with’ often involves my participation in the ceremonies and healing rituals that they provide. What I can give them in return to balance our relationship, what they really need that I have, is money.

At the beginning of my exploration of the Andean Cosmovision I felt uncomfortable about giving money in reciprocity. From my Western perspective it just didn’t seem quite right to give money for a sacred experience. There is a lot of cultural background to those feelings, tied to our views about the relationship between the sacred and the secular and how– when the two are mixed in the wrong way–the sacred becomes profane. Ayni, however, is not the same thing as payment. Ayni brings people closer together, the goal is balance rather than gain, mutual support rather than advantage. When I was able to shift from my culture’s Cosmovision to the Andean Cosmovision I was able to enter into the true ayni of the relationship. On their side they were willing to do the same, to interact with me in ayni within the context of the ceremony, rather than slipping into the Western capitalistic relationship that is encroaching into their culture. It is interesting that when the ceremony is over, and ayni has been completed by my giving them money, then the context usually does shift, the sense of the sacred evaporates, they pull out their goods-for-sale, and some hard haggling begins. The two ways of being in relationship, one of ayni within the context of the sacred, and one within the context of selling, could not be more different.

I would now like to share another context where I experienced how ayni works in Peru. This specific instance occurred in one of my more recent trips. I had brought along some extra money to give to the people of the Andes, not much, but it doesn’t take much to really help out someone who lives in the high Andes. The challenge was to find a context where the money could be given in ayni, for it is so easy for it to shift into a context of “the (comparatively) rich Westerner giving money to the poor and needy indigenous person” which is not ayni at all.

I was able to proceed with the help of an Andean friend (who is a genius at getting around my misled but well-intentioned efforts and helping me to do something even more beautiful than I anticipated). In this case we were in a very small village high in the Andes, which was probably important as there the people still lived a life governed by ayni. The following story is perhaps the best way I can share how ayni works.

Women of a village Club of Mothers

Club of Mothers

I was introduced to several people whom my friend knew could use some help. First I was introduced to a middle-aged man who was suffering from severe diarrhea, he asked if I had anything to help. Being the well-prepared gringo that I am of course I had some medication that is good for diarrhea, and I gave him some with instructions on how to take it. He thanked me most sincerely, and a few minutes later he returned to give me three eggs from his hens, which of course I thought was pretty nice of him. Then I was introduced to two young girls who were orphans and needed some money to get school supplies (in the small villages there are few resources for people who are outside of any family). They smiled and looked shy. I gave them some money and with big smiles they each gave me a hug, then one ran out and returned with a belt she had made to give to me as a present. The village Club of Mothers (who meet weekly to pursue activities for the benefit of the children in the village) gave me a live chicken in ayni for my support. I contemplated texting my sons that I was bringing them home a sister but we ate the chicken that night instead. And at the end of the day I was introduced to a very old woman whose family were all gone and I gave her the rest of what I had. She gently grasped my hand with both of hers and looked into my eyes with a gentle smile and said something to me in Quechua, which my friend translated for me. She said that she had nothing she could give me, so she would pray for me instead. It was a beautiful day.

While ayni in the relationships among humans may be easy for us to understand from our own cultural perspective, when we look at the Andean people’s ayni with the animals upon which they depend then we start to move into territory that is both different and beautiful. I would like to talk about the relationship between the Andean people and their traditional domesticated animals, specifically alpacas and llamas. The following description pertains to people who live in isolated villages in the high Andes, at or above the tree line, and who still live the Andean Cosmovision. These people, and their animals, and their plants, eek out a living at altitudes as high as 15,000 feet, in villages that may be a good two-day walk from the nearest road.

The alpacas and llamas make it possible for the Andeans to live at such altitudes. Unlike other ruminants, alpacas and llamas can graze upon the sparse, high-altitude, grass without damaging it . Llamas carry loads to and from the fields, and from one village to another. They can carry 70 – 90 pound packs, up to 16 miles a day. The hides and wool from both llamas and alpacas are used for clothing. Wool from the alpacas is sold in market towns to obtain sugar, and flour and other materials that cannot be produced in the village. When an animal is slaughtered or offered in a sacrifice every part of the animal is either consumed or used to make things. Dung from the animals fertilize the high-altitude fields or when dried can be used as fuel (it is not a very hot fuel, one time we decided to make hot chocolate at 17,000 feet and it took over an hour for the water to get kind of warm).

The Andean people recognize that their alpacas and llamas cannot survive without human protection, and they equally recognize that humans cannot survive without the alpacas and llamas. The people and their animals share the same resources, and the same weather, and the same hardships of life at high altitudes. The llamas and alpacas are not seen as resources to be managed, they are seen as partners in a mutually supportive dance of reciprocity among beings.

The llamas and alpacas are treated with love and respect, an Andean herder knows every llama and alpaca by sight and all are given names. The llamas and alpacas participate–adorned–in sacred ceremonies, so that the ceremonies may make them happy too. They join the people in appealing to Nature and the Cosmos in times of need.  Special ceremonies are held in honor of the llamas and alpacas. In the llama ch’allay ceremony, for example, the llamas are given chicha (locally brewed corn beer) to thank them for all of their work in carrying the harvests up the mountain. During the ceremony a small bell is rung near the llama’s ear to clean its energy.

When an alpaca or llama is sacrificed or slaughtered the event calls for a special ritual. The animal’s feet are tied together and it is laid upon the ground with it’s head in a person’s lap. The person sings to the animal and strokes its head and gently feeds it coca leaves. At the appropriate moment the animal is killed swiftly, and as it dies its feet are untied so that its spirit may begin its run to the sacred mountain Apu Asungate, accompanied by prayers by the people that Asungate may receive the spirit and send it back to be born again in the same corral. Through its death the animal’s spirit is a gift to the Apu who returns the spirit back to the herd in ayni.

As the life force [of the animal] flows towards the mountains and back in perfect reciprocity, the cosmic balance is maintained. (Bolin, 1998, pg 56).

Market at Pisac

Bounty from the Pachamama and her daughters

Now we will take a step yet further away from the Western view of reality to consider ayni in the relationship of humans with the Cosmos when it comes to raising crops. As the Pachamama (the great mother who is the planet Earth) is but a part of the conscious Cosmos yet has her own consciousness, and the Apus (majestic mountain peaks) are but part of the Pachamama yet have their own consciousness, the chakras (fields in which crops are grown) are daughters of the Pachamama and have their own consciousness as well. Each chakra is responsible for the crop that is grown upon her, and each chakra has a name given by the people who work that field. Before entering a chakra to work a brief ritual of gratitude and respect is given to the Pachamama and her daughter. A little chicha (corn beer) may be poured upon the ground to slake their thirsts. Upon leaving the field another brief ritual may given to thank them for their generosity, in this way ayni is nourished. At that time a little thanks may also be given to Illapa, the god of thunder, thanking him for sending the rain (and for not sending lightning).

Patchwork quilt of chakras on the lap of the Pachamama

Patchwork quilt on the lap of the Pachamama

On one of my trips to Peru we stopped to watch the people gather a harvest of potatoes. It was in the high Andes, on the land between Cusco and the Sacred Valley. The numerous plots were all small, and at different stages of ripeness and containing various crops. The ground stretching up to the mountains looked like a patchwork quilt upon the lap of the Pachamama. Thin trails of smoke rose from a dozen small camp fires scattered across the land. The fires were tended by young mothers and older women. The first potatoes taken out of the ground in the morning had been placed back into holes dug in the Pachamama, covered with earth, and then a fire was lit above them, cooking the potatoes for a meal later in the day. The custom is both practical and sacred, honoring the Pachamama, nourishing her children, and maintaining the relationship between the earth and those that live off of her bounty.

After appreciating this sight, we piled back into our van to continue on our way. As we pulled out my gaze fell upon a young woman tending a fire near the road, perhaps 20 yards away. She looked to be in her early twenties. She was wearing the traditional full skirt and sweater of the Andes made of a woven fabric dyed in colorful shades of green and brown, and a tan hat with a rounded top and a wide flat brim. She was sitting on the ground, in contact with the Pachamama, and nursing her child. As the van pulled away she looked up and for a moment our eyes met, and she smiled. It was the most beautiful smile I have ever seen, a smile that conveyed an absolute contentment with life-at-that-moment, a smile from the heart of the Pachamama.

In the Andean Cosmovision humans are not distinct from Nature, nor is Nature distinct from the Cosmos. The role of humans is not to use Nature for our own good, nor to serve as stewards over it, but instead to interact with Nature in a dance of respect and mutual support. We are but part of the fabric of life, not its apex; children of the Pachamama, but not her special children. Is it any wonder that the fields that the Andeans have cultivated for thousands of years feel as wild and natural as our National Parks?

In the Andes ayni goes beyond the people’s relationships with each other, and with animals, and with fields, to inform their relationships with the Cosmos. When the Andeans gather together socially, or in ceremony, or to do communal work, they perform brief ceremonies to invite into their circle the Pachamama and the Apus and other great Beings of the Cosmos, to honor them and to express respect and gratitude. In their sacred ceremonies, the Andean people offer gifts to the Pachamama, to the Apus, and to the various other Beings of Nature and the Cosmos. This is all done as ayni, to nourish a relationship of mutual support, of mutual service. They serve the Cosmos and the Cosmos serves them, and from this their sense of relationship becomes stronger.

Inge Bolin (1998) summarizes a night of ceremony among the Andeans as follows:

These ancient rites reconfirm a close interdependence among humans, animals, and nature. This night, through a dialog with gods and spirits, we entered the realms of the sacred. We wove threads which symbolically bound us to our physical, social, and spiritual worlds. We reinforced ties with the past, with the Apus, with those ancestral spirits living in mountain peaks, and we looked toward the future, hoping for the aid and compassion of the deities from whom we requested health, prosperity, and peaceful coexistence. We engaged in reciprocity, the hallmark of Andean life; we were offering and asking, giving and taking.

Every gesture and movement was performed with great dignity and elegance. Every ritual carried an expression of respect for others—for gods, humans, animals, plants, and the spirit world. On this night and in the days to follow, the message of the rituals is clear. Only where there is respect can we find a way to live and act together. We must adjust and readjust to accommodate the various benevolent and malevolent forces within the cosmos. Pachamama, the giver of life, is also responsible for earthquakes and other disasters. The Apus are protectors of the herds, but they also send malevolent winds which can bring disease and death. There is no trace of aggression or hostility, domination, or subjugation in any of the rituals. Our offerings, our thoughts, our efforts in dedicating this night to a spiritual dialog among humans, animals, and the powers of nature are meant to reinforce the positive,, to give hope to a life so harmonic and serene, yet so vulnerable in this marginal environment. (pg 43)

This I believe is the heart of the Andean Cosmovision.  Ayni is the pump that sends the energy flowing through the people and their Cosmos. There is a mistake, I think, in our culture to remove the Andean meditations from their context, to see them only as a technology for personal transformation. The meditations, however, are fundamentally about our relationship with Nature and the Cosmos. The benefits of the meditations come from this relationship, and being a relationship we need to attend to our side of the relationship as well, with love and mutual support and respect.

There is one level of ayni I have not talked about yet that I would like to mention. The Andean people are willing to share their Cosmovision with the West and many of us feel that we have benefited greatly by their willingness to do so. For the circle of ayni to be completed, so that not only balance is achieved but that both sides may be nourished by the exchange, we need to give back to the Andean people, particularly those who have given this gift to us. I recommend that if you pursue more knowledge about the Andean approach from various authors and workshop presenters that you look to see if any of the money you give them goes back to the Andean people.

If you find this Salka Wind web site to be of value to you and would like to donate some money as ayni you can do so at the Donate page. This nourishes my efforts in this work and leaves me feeling like we are on this path together and that this project is the best thing since puffed rice. I always give a goodly chunk of any money I receive from my Salka Wind work to the Andean people to insure there is ayni at that level as well. If you would like to give some money to nonprofit organizations that work to benefit the Andean people–in a way that is guided with wisdom so that their lives and their culture are nourished rather than damaged–you will find links in the Resources page of this web site, there are undoubtably other good nonprofit organizations working to help the Andean people out there as well.

Note there is a subsequent post on ayni called ‘Ayni Revisited‘.

This post on ayni draws heavily from the work (cited and uncited) of Inge Bolin. I strongly recommend her beautiful book Rituals of Respect: The Secret of Survival in the High Peruvian Andes. I would also like to thank Monique Duphily whose dissertation-in-process on the topic of ayni also contributed to the writing of this post.

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Exploring the Three Centers of Being

This will  be the last meditation (at least for a while) that pertains to our three centers of being, after this we will turn to other experiential aspects of the Andean Cosmovision. To me, at least, this seems a rather advanced meditation, partly because it builds upon other meditations but also because its effects can sometimes be quite profound. If you haven’t yet, please first read the post The Three Centers of Being (Part 1) so that you will know what the three centers are, where they are located, and how they organize our experience of reality.

I like to prepare myself for this meditation. I often go about it somewhat like this: I go to some place in nature where I am unlikely to be disturbed; when I sit down I do the Touching Pachamama meditation just to get out of my head and into the here-and-now; and then I do the Releasing Hucha meditation to clear my energy. Either before or after releasing my hucha I like to perform a small ritual of ayni (reciprocity) for Nature and the Cosmos; I bring a little tequila with me and I pour a few drops onto the Pachamama, if I’m sitting next to a river I give a few drops to my brother the river, and then I fling some into the sky for the Apus, this is all done with the intent of sharing my gratitude and respect for them and with the desire that they benefit from the energy of the offering. As a final preparatory step for this meditation I usually do the Tuning the Three Centers of Being meditation, to ready the three centers for the following meditation.

Here is the ‘Exploring the Three Centers of Being’ meditation. While it is worth the time to prepare for this meditation (as described above), the meditation itself is really quite simple.

Before you begin this meditation notice your energy, how it feels to be you right now.

Begin by sitting (on the ground or in a chair) with you spine erect. Using your intent (sincere pretending) move your consciousness from your head into your llankay (located three finger widths below your navel and a few inches within your body). I like to do this on an out-breath, I take a slightly fuller than normal breath and as I breathe out I let my consciousness sink down to my llankay. It may seem strange to talk about moving your consciousness to another part of your Being other than your head, but that is the best way I have of describing what you are doing with your intent …play with it and see what happens. Spend some time with your consciousness in your llankay, experiencing what it is like to be connected to and perceiving the world from there.

Then, move your consciousness to your munay (located in your heart). I like to do this on an in-breath, I take a slightly fuller than normal breath and as I breathe in I use my intent to move my consciousness from my llankay up into my munay. Spend some time with your consciousness in your munay, experiencing what it is like to be connected to and perceiving the world from there.

Next, move your consciousness to your yachay (located at the crown of your head). I also like to do this on an in-breath, as I breathe in I use my intent to move my consciousness from my munay up into my yachay. Spend some time with your consciousness in your yachay, experiencing what it is like to be connected to and perceiving the world from there.

The final step is to move your consciousness from your yachay into the profound silence of the Cosmos…

When you are finished exploring what that is like, notice your energy, how you feel now. That is the meaning and effect of the meditation. Give yourself some time to develop this meditation, at first you may have only an inkling of having moved your consciousness to another center and only the slightest taste of how that affects your consciousness. If that is pleasant and intriguing enough to keep you going then return to this meditation from time to time to explore what it has to offer.

Bon appetit waikis.

Waiki’ is an Englishized form of the Quechua word for what a male calls his brother, but Americo uses it as a term of affection and closeness to people of both sexes.

Source of the meditation: Don Americo Yabar

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Internal Dialog

We have 10,000 thoughts a day…and 8,000 of them are the same thoughts we had yesterday.–Buddhist saying.

Our ‘internal dialog’ is the constant flow of thoughts we have about the world and our condition in it as we move through the day. While this flow of thoughts may contain images for many of us it also contains an internal dialog, a flow of comments that represent our evaluation of what is going on. I am going to start by belittling the internal dialog and then when I’m finished I’ll come to its defense.

If you have ever spent time monitoring your own internal dialog you might have found it to be a humbling experience. When I have done that I am appalled by the mundane inanity of my thoughts. It is like discovering that I have Howard Cossell in my head making a running commentary on my life (you probably have to be my age or older to understand that reference). Our internal dialog is sometimes referred to as ‘the drunken monkey’ in our head, as our stream of thoughts, when examined from outside the process of having them, are of that approximate quality.

The problem with the internal dialog is that it takes our consciousness away from experiencing reality and focusses it instead on our interpretation of, and reaction to, reality. When we are heavily into internal dialog we experience the world through a thick layer of interpretation, attending to the meaning we have assigned to what is happening rather than to what is actually going on. A problem with that is that we will often miss information that could change how we interpret what is going on. Ways in which reality doesn’t fit our interpretation don’t make it to our consciousness if we focus exclusively on the interpretation. The internal dialog often takes us away from the present moment to rehash what has happened in the past (justifying how we feel about it, or what we should have done differently, or what we wished would have happened) or to what is approaching in the future (perhaps running through various scenarios and how we will react, or simply looking with dread or tedium on what is coming up). It also takes us away from what is in front of us to other things we want to think about (e.g. thinking about work while being at home). The internal dialog is pure yachay, 100% thought.

The challenge in almost any meditation I can think of is that to pursue the meditation involves attending to something other than the internal dialog, and our internal dialog is so habitual that after a few seconds of putting our consciousness somewhere else we find that we have drifted back into thinking and interpreting, back into our internal dialog. To a large degree the skill that develops with practice at meditating involves being able to spend longer and longer time periods free of internal dialog. My strategy is, when I notice I have gone back to my internal dialog, to just smile to myself and gently pull my consciousness back to the focus of the meditation. That, and a lot of practice. Even then I find there are some days when turing off my internal dialog is like trying to ignore a marching band passing a few feet away. Then there are the times when I’m meditating and the thought arises “Hey, I have managed to turn off my internal dialog!” (which of course is my internal dialog speaking).

I mention all this for those of you who are trying out the Andean meditations and who don’t have much background in meditating. Be gentle and forgiving with yourself, if you like the experiences enough to keep going, if they touch you at a deep level, then persevere with patience. If not, well, there is no moral imperative to continue. Over the years my friends and I have explored many non-Western paths, Buddhism, Taoism, Sufism, and otherisms. They are all worthy paths with a heart. Most of us have, eventually, found a path that just feels right for us. That is how it is with me and Andean mysticism (as I have learned it), it feels right for me without any implication that this would mean it is right for everyone (see the post Fallacies). It might be the same way for you, or perhaps not.

When learning to meditate a lot of the focus is on turning off the internal dialog so that the alternative focus of the meditation can be attended to. The internal dialog, however, is not a bad thing, it is incredibly useful to us. To get around in our world, particularly in our society, we need to be able to interpret things in a way that is similar to those around us. In addition, it is my internal dialog that convinces me I need to get up in the morning, go to the store , save money to go to the Andes, mend a spat I’ve had with a friend, take my vitamins, sit in front of my computer and write my posts, figure out ways to help the Qero, and so on. It is just that (at least for me) if I operate on autopilot then my internal dialog, my yachay, makes up 99% of my way of being in this world, and there is so much more to explore, so many other ways of understanding and being in this world, ways of great beauty, sometimes scary, an adventure that makes my life worth living to me.

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Tuning the Three Centers of Being

As background for this meditation I strongly recommend that–if you haven’t already–you read the posts: Andean Cosmovision: The Basics, Intent, and The Three Energy Centers (Part 1).

This is one of the two meditations about which I’ve heard don Americo Yabar say that if we would only do this on a regular basis it would have a very beneficial affect on us (the other meditation was described in the post Bellybutton to the Pachamama). Most people (including myself) hear something like that and say ‘yes, great…..what else can you teach me?’ I wonder what it is about (some of) us that we want more and more rather than to develop and explore what we have? As I have mentioned in other posts I have found myself, after years of learning more and more, returning back to the simpler and earlier things I’ve learned in this approach as being the best way to work this path into my life. Anyway…

For this meditation you need to sit on the ground so that you can comfortably place your hands on the Earth (the Pachamama).

First, notice what your energy feels like before you start. How does it feel to be you right now?

Begin the meditation by placing one of your hands on the Pachamama and the other on your body over your llankay (the center of your physical being, located a few finger breadths below your navel). With intent (sincere pretending) form an energetic connection between your llankay and the Pachamama, and ask her to bring your llankay into harmony with her. Notice the effect of this connection, and continue until you feel that the energy of your llankay is in harmony with the Pachamama (usually a few minutes).

Then, take your hand from your llankay and place it on the Pachamama, and take the hand that was on the Pachamama and place it over your munay (your heart, the center of love). Again, with intent, connect the energy of the two and ask the Pachamama to bring your heart into harmony with her.

When you sense that this harmony has occurred take your hand from your munay and place it on the Pachamama and put the hand that was on the Pachamama on your yachay (the center of thought, the yachay itself is centered at the crown of your head). Continue until your yachay has come into harmony with the Pachamama.

Now follow the same process but this time coming into harmony with the refined energy of the Cosmos. Start by putting one hand over your llankay and raise the other hand toward the sky to connect with the energy of the Cosmos. With intent open a connection between the two and ask the Cosmos to bring your llankay into harmony with it. Repeat with your munay and your yachay, switching hands each time.

When you have finished notice your energy now. How your energy shifts from before the meditation to after the meditation is the true (and only) meaning and significance of the meditation.

I recommend that you do this on a regular basis for a while and see how it affects your experience of the world.  There is a nice follow-up to this meditation that I will be posting soon.

Source of this meditation: don Americo Yabar.

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