not everyone wants everything to go smoothly. my microcosm was watching Rose attempting to pour a 20 liter water bottle into a 1.5 liter bottle. when it began to spill she then thought resting the giant bottle’s weight onto the smaller one was a better idea, so she could aim better. of course since it couldn’t support the weight, it fell over, knocking over Liz’s aromatherapy bottles too. after that she put the large bottle to her lips, cradled it’s weight on her knees and began to sip what rushed in her mouth. Rose sat the bottle down laughingly, stating how much fun the experience was. the silent owl in me knew what her results would be prior to they unfolded; the silent owl watched the moon in her. the owl shook her head at the spacey moon. she was completely fine with what transpired. I saw flaw & therefore failure. but not everyone requires flow in their actions to have success. not everyone thinks something through or tries to cover all bases before stepping into action.
Rose certainly teaches me that; she’ll come to class without a pen, think about picking up her laundry without the pick-up slip and use everyone else’s stuff, not procuring her own. I see her as flaky & tie it to being a non-prepared midwife with an empty birth bag, in the grand scheme of things. but why is being organized any better? maybe she’ll bring something to a birth that is innate, unprocurable. we’ve been studying Egyptian medical astrology, learning what a person’s base planet influence is, since the planets are said to “influence” us more than a constellation. beyond that, there are phases or cycles in life we all go through. the first 7 years of life for everyone is the “moon cycle”; kids are spaced out, in their own world, unconstrained. this makes sense when you see an adult asking a child, who’s far out in a theda brain wave, to step into the beta wave & be “present” in the everyday world, and how frustrated the adult can become. learning that Rose has moon as her base planet, has allowed me to have some compassion, lol. besides, I take me too seriously sometimes. I look forward to looking at your chart when I’m back, all I need is your date & time of birth – it’s fun.
I’ve been noticing some of my traits, which are perfect for birth: being really comfortable in other people’s homes, having no hesitation to roam their cupboards if I need something, being able to “go with the flow”, being unattached to “time”, being organized, having patience, being familiar with a wide scope of emotions and being able to change my mind regularly; simple little things. I know I can frustrate others with such characteristics sometimes, but it’s totally aligned with being a midwife.
what a strange week…many “plans” fell through or were super hazy to even come together. Isabel’s is closed until February as the clinic is moving to a new location. I’ve been sick on & off and have missed a couple night shifts at the hospital, not wanting to infect anyone. the showers have been outputting unfriendly cold water and after the weekend I really needed some hot cleansing, so I headed to the local sauna. Rose, Aerina & I massaged each other, I applied some raw salt to my body then soaked up the heat. afterwards, I was so heated up, I had mostly a luke-warm shower – funny what i choose when all choices are available! but it was great showering with good water pressure. there is no heating in Peru, let alone hot water. the few showers the house has with heated water only heats a tiny bit via a coil above your head and the one time I touched the canister it passes through, my hand violently retracted after feeling the electrical current flowing. But i´m sure it´s safe, lol.
getting to the weekend, I knew I was heading to Q’oya to hang out with Lori and explore Pisac again. there had been talk about doing another San Pedro ceremony in the mountain this time, since San Pedro is best explored in nature. I’d been a yes and a no, all over the place, then thought staying open would be easier so I could choose my choice when I chose it! this trip so far has been all about letting go, which essentially also represents birth.
Lori & I were both a “no” to doing ceremony and decided to part from the group to head to Casa de Milagros (Home of Miracles, an orphanage created by a woman named Mama Kia, who’s grandson came to her in a dream after he passed away, telling her to create an orphanage). Kate & Claire would later join us, while the rest of the group was awaiting Abel to arrive to begin ceremony at his good friend’s home, Tareo. we weren’t even 5 minutes from the plaza in Q’oya when a man with his young daughter, stopped us to talk. this is really common in Peru, as someone always has something to sell, but his arms were empty. we were on a mission to leave and it became funny how much we were being side-tracked, now here was another situation. Lori’s Spanish is fairly fluent so she explained we were heading to the Casa; he replied it was only a short walk past his house and that he’d show us the road to walk. the man then mentioned something about his home shop where he makes djembes and didgeridoos, then we asked if he knew Abel, to which he replied “Cusco tattooa?” Abel also makes didgeridoos & is his “comrade”. before I knew it, I was laughing inside, as this man was Tareo! Q’oya is a small town, but come on!! this was just ridiculous! Tareo explained he felt drawn to stop us not knowing why and said “you could’ve been crazy women” but instinct over-road logic.
we walked back to his casa, met his son, pregnant wife, the 2 dogs, 1 kitten and other family members. he brought us into his large barn-like shop, the earthen floor strewn with wood chips and a hammock that could easily observe the outside. he pulled out 2 bottles of fresh San Pedro, resembling a thick green cacti smoothie. he unscrewed the lid, the gases released and it began to ooze out the top. he scooped some on his finger then applied to our foreheads, took an eagle feather to gently smear the goop and bring it down along our faces, then he lit the Palo Santo (type of wood burned for smudging) and told us to blow on it three times. Tareo explained we were to feel into the medicine and it would tell us if we were to drink or simply to pass this time. about 20 minutes slipped by and although I was a definite yes, I wanted to respect Lori’s plans, so again I stayed open to going either way, wanting her to make the choice. I’ve been witnessing how powerful my choices are when made; I didn’t want to influence her so I kept my internal vibe quiet. he read the markings on our foreheads and said we were to drink. Lori asked how he could read it; he made a “phish” noise, then said he’d been working with the plant for 22 years, learnt from his uncle & that it’s been in his lineage for a very long time.
at one point Lori said to me “I really need your help with this” but when I went to lay out all the options possible, I could only come up with one, which was all inclusive. the choice was extremely clear by now – yes, we would drink. Tareo left to pick up fire wood and we headed back to the plaza to fetch the women, unfortunately it was now dark and the women were gone. Abel was hours late by this point, although we’d heard he was on route. after looking around a bit for the group, we trusted they’d find their way and sure enough when we arrived back at Tareo’s home, everyone was gathered around the burning fire. we departed shortly after that backpacks on, firewood in arms, while some held flashlights lighting the way for those who had none.
our track was easy enough while we traversed part of town, though we soon arrived at the mouth of the trail, our feet met the rocks and upward we went. our core muscles kicked in since our arms were otherwise occupied with wood & light, certainly unavailable to grab hold of a branch or rock for support if necessary. we were told it wasn’t too far, I remember hearing ½ hour. keep in mind it’s easy to get winded from the altitude by climbing a simple set of stairs, so we took many breaks, especially when the group continually separated. all I could do was focus on my footing & breathing regularly. I kept hearing “just a bit more, 5 more minutes, ½ hour more”.
after about an hour, my internal resistance was really building, I was resentful, pissed off, super annoyed: this was not what I had intended! there was no place to stop and say “I’m staying here, see you in the morning” or “I’m going back down” when I had no idea where down was, so we had to stick together. (I found out later this was a different location than our class had originally intended on visiting before and that Abel had never been here, so he hadn’t known what to expect either.) I began vocalizing my frustration, I felt the victim arise, who I’d not seen in quite a while.
we finally reached a plateau, my arms let go of everything they’d been carrying, I peeled my back pack off my sweaty back, changed clothes so I’d be dry and piled on the layers to skip becoming chilled. Tareo & Abel lit candles, prepared the San Pedro, began offerings to Pachamama, to each other and the group. they poured a small cup for each of us, one by one; the cup was offered by two hands & we were to receive it by two hands, then drink in one continuous motion to respect the plant. the djembes were warming up along with the flute and didjeridoo. after everyone drank, we all took ½ to 1 full cup more since the 1st offering had been small. 30 minutes passed and the fire hadn’t been started yet. the men were concerned of the nearby cliff & stated it wasn’t safe for people to be journeying on their own and that we needed to move…an hour higher up.
I unlayered, we packed up and continued hiking straight up the mountain. though my anger within increased a simultaneous shift was occurring. thoughts began to flow: “what would choose to grow up here?” I asked with complete discontent to myself, “plants & cacti grow up here, unconflicted even! you too are choosing to grow on this mountain.” okay, well what could I say to that? but I wasn’t done hearing myself bitch. a conversation I’d had in the fall with mom & dad popped into my head: mom told me they were happy with the place they’re at in life, they didn’t require me to push them to grow in any way and were quite self-sufficient. wow, of course they are!! I get so excited for my own life, that I often project my seemingly “right actions” onto many around me – that must be a challenge to be around! (lol) then I wondered, at what point did mom choose her boundary and comfort zone? maybe she’s still growing in her own way, a way that’s not in everyone’s face, but is there a point where someone says “I’m done, this is as far as I’ll go”? and if so, is that wrong, because I’ve certainly judged that action.
the rest of the way up, i was battling my internal voice that said “this is ludicrous, I need to stop, no one should hike after just taken San Pedro, i’m going to throw up, I’m being pushed too far or this is beyond my physical limits.” where was my limit? do I even have one? because despite the complaining, I wasn’t stopping. the victim was duking it out with the obstinate within, and neither are “who I am”. so quit the b.s. and show me my true boundary!! I never found it, really. any boundary is only self-limitation and doesn’t truly exist. I was only verbalizing that which I’ve been battling for a while: the element of me that “must be heard” and validated by my external.
it was all tying into birth & midwifery. i kept thinking about the holistic stages of labour:
- embarking: preparing for the journey, she’s excited, anxious, chatty
- entering the veil: giving herself to the journey, holding space to climb the “mountain”
- between the worlds: finding her own rhythm, focused on her inward world, making sounds, toning
- transition: see the mountain top & say “I can’t do it”, thoughts like “I’m done” become so tangible
- quiescence: peace, stillness, deep calm, huge download of information; fully dilated, however she won’t naturally push here, that would be like running back down the mountain after she’d just gotten up!
- the birthing tides: a contraction brings her back to “reality”, she’s galvanized
- the breakers: pushing is NOT managed, she pushes how her body feels, the pressure & torque required are intrinsic to her
I’d been going through the stages as I hiked upward. how do I even know 100% what I need for me? the mountain knew & it was dishing it! how humbling…
as soon as we reached the next plateau, Lori explained to Tareo that the women needed to STOP!! he finally agreed. a man’s journey is so very different from a woman’s. Tareo’s expectation was way different from mine. I wasn’t looking to hike for days, I don’t “need” to climb a mountain all night long in the pitch black – I would’ve been happy back at his house, nesting, lol. I dropped to the ground to catch my breath & reapply my layers of clothing.
then something I couldn’t translate occurred: Tareo kindly came around to each of us to check in with where we were at. when he kneeled beside me & placed his compassionate hand on my knee & asked if I was well, I felt an opening in my heart to let go. I began sobbing hard. (it reminded me of doing the 60km walk for breast cancer, where I broke down at the end.) he put his hands on my head & started repeating “tranquila” like they do at the hospitals. wow, that’s the wrong thing to say to any emotional female, lol. Lori rushed over to me & began translating to him that the hike was too much and I’d not wanted to continue. I was now maxing out. she was mistranslating me & he was telling me to calm down. I yelled “back-off, I need space” and they withdrew. Lori came over a while later to sit beside me while I cried. this was one confirming reason in my opinion why men should not deliver babies: they can’t be with the intensity of women’s emotions. I also saw that knowing the language didn’t equate knowing someone’s thoughts. How many times had I filled in someone’s words, assumingly? I was upset because I saw I was holding onto my position of having limitations – when was I going to finally let go of that? I’m 30, how much more time was I going to waste?
Lori was hustling the men to get their act together. they were chatting, setting up tents, and goofing around. she said “the women need you! get a fire going, start the music, stop the mindless chattering!” but men like direction, right? the men’s “midwifing” was showing weakness. after I emotionally cooled off, I moved closer to the fire. The music was going & now Tareo was barking at us all to dance, “bailar, bailar!” give it a rest! I darted him a look & firmly said “tu bailas if you want to dance, but I’m sitting here”. Grrr… again, it came back to men delivering babies – no wonder they jump to c-sections so quickly, the patience of unfoldment was lacking. Of course I’m generalizing, but you catch my drift. The fire took hours to get going, we were all attempting to keep warm, it just wasn’t a dancing night. His attempt certainly wasn’t inspiring to any of us.
It seemed to be the longest night of my life & I’d never felt so far from Vancouver. I was several flights away, not even in Cusco, but an hour bus ride away, past Pisac, in Q’oya, up a mountain a few hours, where no vehicle could travel. I could almost touch the stars, it was so beautiful, but I couldn’t stay present or go as deep as I’d anticipated. I was laying down & Carlos tripped over me, landing straight on his face. There was a sketchiness with some of the guys. They were wandering around, Carlos seemed unsafe to himself, people were standing tall compared to my ground view, carelessly pointed flashlights continuously landed in my eyes…I really wanted the night to be over. I saw my desire to sleep couldn’t even be satisfied since I was “night-watching”, protecting my personal space and choosing my state of internal unrest. It wasn’t a complete waste, of course I was fine (I always am!) & some light bulb moments had been triggered, but i was lacking the satisfaction of coming away with revelations. I believe there had been more waiting for me to tap into during that event. But that’s my addiction in life: the constant seeking of growth, to go deep, to never cease expanding and to believe if I cover more in one moment, the next will unfold something new. where’s my mastery & refinement in that? perhaps the thing that had truly been missing was my ability to elevate my experience.
The light in the sky finally began to shift, the dawn was coming & it would be my 1st sunrise in Peru. I felt the heaviness within lift, I could leave in a few hours. when the light infiltrated more, I found out we were only a 3 minute walk from Tareo’s uncle’s home. our camp was fairly surrounded by homes actually (considering we were in the middle of the Andes), animals were feeding and dogs could be heard barking up in the hills. The view was amazing!!! I giggled and thought, “I doubt my bitching would’ve gone on so long had I been able to see where I was.”
Kate, Carl & Brook headed down the mountain around 8am while Claire & I followed shortly after. Lori & Max were still coming around and the rest were at “uncle’s” for breakfast and more ingesting of San Pedro. of course it only took an hour & a half for Claire and I to descend. the morning sun was chasing us down & we were grateful to have left when we did as things were heating up quickly. I stopped for the occasion photo & video clip, to remove a layer here or there, to fend off the seemingly innocent children with slingshot in hand, to say morning to the farm animals, then traverse a corn field & hop an earthen fence. we dropped blankets off at Tareo’s home, I said my goodbyes to the sweet kitten I’d cuddled with the night before & would never see again.
we caught the bus back to Pisac for one sole then booked it to the market for fresh fruit. it was only 10:30am & I knew Lori wouldn’t arrive in Pisac until about 12pm. I chilled in our café, almost passing out, sunglasses on (Peruvians sell sunglasses but no one wears them) until she arrived. there was no way I was able to stick to our original plan of me spending the day with her as I was too exhausted, but Jaydee was willing. Zuki, Rose & Aerina (who’d stayed at Brittany’s in Q’oya) and I took a crazy bus ride back to Cusco, where the bus driver took the corners too quickly and the people were telling him to slow down (which does nothing much for machismo). I’m grateful for my life every time I step out of a vehicle here! you’d think the buses would go slower than the taxis, but they don’t always, in fact they’ll pass another bus on a blind corner. it’s loco. memories of dad driving fast & mom’s foot automatically pressing for a phantom brake in the passenger seat pop into my mind. I’m desperate to visit Machu Pichu, but a tad freaked out about the ride there. Carl apparently researched the stats on bus company injuries & fatalities and now only buys tickets from them. I’ll have to acquire that info before taking off the last week.
while heading to the sauna, the day’s finale was toped by the cab ride into town. I sat in the passenger seat & conversed in Spanish with the taxi driver. he asked me if I had a family: when I responded no children yet, but “un esposo” (direct translation = 1 husband) we both cracked up laughing. I pushed on, still in Spanish, saying “you know how it is in Canada, we have multiple husbands”…we didn’t stop laughing until he dropped us off. I slept for 14 hours that night.
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