An Andean healing ceremony and the beginning of a deeper pilgrimage

I wake up with the feeling that this day will change me forever.

I feel it in my bones. A sense of joy, excitement and a dash of anxiety all rolled up in one. For I am about to participate in a healing session with an Andean wisdom keeper visiting from Peru.

I stand in front of our beloved Tree House apartment here at Meditation Mount, gently gazing toward the Sun, towards the western sky.

The year is 2017. Springtime, when the Matilija Poppies begin to bloom and the scent of orange blossoms fills the air.

I lift my arms high towards the SUN and offer a prayer of gratitude for the journey I am about to embark upon. I pray for a graceful passage and for the journey ahead. I offer gratitude for the privilege of being here on this sacred land.

It’s late afternoon and the Sun is still relatively high in the sky, a few hours before Chief Peak turns pink and the Ojai Valley begins to settle into a soft evening glow.

I walk towards my beloved pickup truck, Garnet Pearl, and make my descent down the winding hill, through the gate and towards the valley floor.

Greeted by aromatic orange blossoms, avocado orchards and the spaciousness of the East End, I make my way through downtown Ojai and out towards Ventura Shores.

Arriving at my destination, I feel the excitement building. Partly for the joy of what may be revealed and partly from nervousness, as wires had crossed earlier that morning regarding an unintentional schedule mishap, placing a little pressure on the moment.

I ring the doorbell.

Cheryl opens the door and welcomes me in with a kind smile. Beside her stands Jorge Luis Delgado, an Andean wisdom keeper from the Lake Titicaca region.

Greeted with reciprocity, a smile and simple pleasantries, I am welcomed inside and led immediately to a small room to the right. Cheryl heads upstairs towards her main living space where the Shaman Circles regularly take place.

Don Jorge points me towards the healing table set up in the center of the room. He walks away for a moment, offering me time to land and settle into the space.

He begins to prepare our ceremony together.

I settle in, observe the space and wait for the session to begin.

Don Jorge walks into the room. He picks up his rattles and ceremoniously begins walking in circles around me. On about his third cycle around, he gathers a bottle and spritzes the room with floral water, blessing and welcoming in the space.

He begins to sing and offer prayers, welcoming the ancestors and offering gratitude for Pachamama.

His presence, voice and prayers enliven the space.

The small room with four walls I entered just moments ago has become a wide, multidimensional field of light.

The veils feel thinner here.

Imagination soars.

Don Jorge pauses.

Stops.

Silence falls upon the space.

He asks me to share what I would like to focus on for the healing today.

I share what is on my heart, a heaviness I desire to heal so that I can be lighter on my journey.

My request is listened to and cared for with absolute unconditional love.

Don Jorge begins to speak.

“Hucha. Hucha is heavy energy. We want to transform hucha into munay. Then to sami, which is Unconditional Love. This is the work we will do today.”

“Anything else?”

Yes.

“I feel a lot of joy around my travels and how I would like to continue my journeys to sacred pilgrimages.”

I notice a medicine bag beside the small table adjacent to the healing table I am lying on.

Don Jorge picks it up.

He invites me to choose several stones.

“Go ahead and gather the ones that speak to you.”

I gather seven.

He invites me to place the stones, one by one, on the areas of my body where I feel heavy energy, hucha.

“We carry hucha at times. Hucha is heavy energy. We replace it with sami, munay, love.”

One stone rests up

on my forehead.

Another on my chest.

Another on my stomach.

Several more are placed in between.

Don Jorge invites me to pick up each stone, one by one, bringing my awareness to my breath and allowing the heavy energy to transform naturally.

As the heaviness begins to soften and become lighter, he guides me:

“Blow directly into the stone.”

Through the breath, awareness is brought to the heavy energy.

The hucha begins to loosen.

To decompose.

To make room for lightness and love to shine through.

“Yachay, wisdom, arises when hucha is released so that one can return to the radiance of the inner Sun.”

Don Jorge continues to offer his prayers and songs.

Then he says:

“You have been blooming. Your garden is beautiful.”

His words land kindly upon my ears.

Don Jorge continues his prayers, his songs and his ceremonial ways.

As the ritual completes, Don Jorge guides me to come down from the table.

I lift off the table as if light as a feather and land my two bare feet upon the floor.

I feel lighter.

Brighter.

Transformed, really.

Don Jorge gestures towards the western corner of the room, in the direction of the setting Sun.

“Stand here,” he says with a wide smile.

He positions me towards what appears to me as a luminous portal.

An abstract archway appears.

The shape of a door emerges.

Don Jorge welcomes me to step towards it.

He speaks:

“AliSun… A child of the Sun comes with joy and gratitude for her life.”

He asks me to affirm my prayer and request so that it may be spoken to the Ancestors.

I affirm my prayer and speak my request into the space before me.

I feel lit up from head to toe.

I feel a sense of clarity on my path, one that I know will serve me in the days ahead.

Don Jorge offers a closing prayer on my behalf.

Thank you, Pachamama…

As the ceremony comes to a close, Don Jorge looks at me with compassionate eyes. The kind of look that somehow lets you know something in your life is about to change.

He gathers the Sun disk necklace from around his neck with a gentle sweeping gesture and places it around my neck as an offering.

“This is for you. This will support you in the coming days. Keep it close.

The ceremony completes and I stand there smiling and laughing.

The Sun disk rests against my heart.

Something has shifted.

And somehow, I know I have crossed a threshold into a life I cannot yet imagine, one still hidden from view.

—A Spontaneous Opening on the Venice boardwalk, many moons ago, on a truly auspicious morning.

The Sun parts its luminous rays through the misty clouds above the Venice boardwalk. I am on my way back to Ashland Street after my morning walkabout when I hear a spirited voice calling out toward me.

“Excuse me, but don’t I know you from somewhere?”

I glance back behind me toward the ocean’s break.

“Aren’t you the woman I met at the party last weekend? You’re the woman from Brazil, right?”

Haha. Really? I think, laughing to myself.

“No, sorry. You must be thinking of someone else. Have a nice day, though.”

The man comes a little closer, bright eyed and enthusiastic.

“Are you sure we haven’t met before? I feel like I know you.”

I tell him quite confidently, “No. I think it’s pretty unlikely. I haven’t lived here for several years. I’m just visiting for the week. I did live here quite a few years ago, but that was a long time ago.”

“No, that’s not it,” he says. “Hmmm. I swear I feel like we have met before.”

Then he pauses.

“Well, I’d like to know you. Will you join me for a cup of coffee?”

“No, thank you. I’m on my way to a very important gathering this morning, and I am starting to run a little late. Nice to meet you, though.”

“How about later?” he asks.

Gently, I turn to him and say, “No, thank you. I have a boyfriend, and I really do need to be on my way now.”

“But I really want to get to know you. Can I at least have your phone number?”

My God, I think to myself. Persistent, this guy.

Yikes.

Wow.

Really?

This guy is not giving up.

But something inside me prompts me to listen.

To stay open.

Not to abandon my boundaries, but to pay attention.

I am on the boardwalk in broad daylight, surrounded by people walking by. I feel safe enough to pause and listen more closely to what is really being asked of me.

So I turn to him and ask, “Why? Why do you want to meet with me so badly? What is so important about meeting with me?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “You just have something. You have something I don’t.”

“Really? What is that?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” he says. “It’s just something about you. Are you sure we can’t meet?”

I take a moment to drop in and listen deeply.

I recognize that this experience is here to teach me something. Otherwise, I would have already gotten the signal to be on my way.

What is keeping me engaged with this person? I wonder.

I allow my thoughts to slow down and tune into what is really being asked of me.

Aha.

That’s it.

Today is graduation day for Art of God, a three year program devoted to being who and what I am in reality.

And here it is.

An opportunity to put it all into practice.

To bring the experience into life in an authentic way.

Right now.

Right here.

Spontaneously.

On the Venice boardwalk.

With a complete stranger.

So, with enthusiasm, I turn toward him and say, “Ok. I will meet with you.”

“Really?” he asks, his face full of astonishment, completely stunned by the sudden turn of events.

“Yes.”

“Great. When will we meet? Where?”

“Right here. Right now. For FIVE minutes.”

He looks at me, startled.

“Now? Five minutes?”

“Yes. NOW. I have five minutes before I need to go so I will not be late.”

“Here? Really? Right now?”

“Yes. Right here. Right NOW. For five minutes. Ok?”

He becomes flustered with excitement, almost jumping up and down.

“Ok,” he agrees.

“Ok,” I say. “Let’s get started. Are you ready? Remember, I only have five minutes.”

I start to feel his resistance grow as he withdraws a bit in my presence.

This must be completely blowing his mind.

Unexpected.

I am not sure what he had in mind, but here we are.

I turn toward him.

“So, you said that I have something you don’t. Did I hear you correctly?”

He nods.

“Do you know what that something is? And do you really think that is true?”

Looking a bit stunned and perplexed, he stammers.

“I don’t know. It’s just something about you. You’re different.”

I respond in a calm and steady tone.

“What if I told you that what I have, you have too?”

“No way,” he says, waving his hands in the air in complete disbelief. “Absolutely not.”

“Trust me,” I say. “You do. We all do. Some of us are just more aware of it.”

I pause.

“Would you like to experience it for yourself?”

He looks at me.

“Ok,” he says sheepishly.

“Here,” I say. “Take hold of my hands. And remember, what you are about to feel is what you are. I am simply holding a space for you to experience your own capacity to feel it for yourself.”

I can feel my teacher, BrooksY, smiling from afar.

We first stand in silence facing each other.

Holding hands.

Grounding with our feet firmly planted on the Earth.

Preparing to go further.

I ask the enthusiastic man for permission to continue.

He responds with a resounding yes.

I feel his gratitude. His warmth. His willingness.

He begins to relax deeper into the space. I can feel that he trusts me, and that I trust him.

A few moments pass.

The energy begins to build gradually.

Palpably.

A warm glow appears on his face. He responds beautifully to what is flowing between us.

“Wow,” he says. “What is happening to me? What is this? Who are you?”

“This is you,” I say. “This is you experiencing you.”

I explain gently.

“What is happening is that you are opening and remembering who and what you are. The light within you is being rekindled. The same light that lives within me, within everyone, within everything. This is happening naturally and spontaneously because you are choosing to be open here. It is your natural state.”

Animated and excited, he says, “No way. This is you, not me. This is you. It has to be.”

“Trust me,” I say. “This is you. Yes, you can feel me here holding space, but what you are feeling is your own light. Your own connection. We are opening here together.”

He continues to soften.

Before me, I witness a beautiful and radiant man emerging.

A bewildered and stunned look appears upon his face.

“Who are you?” he asks. “Are you like Jesus or something?”

I giggle.

“No.”

He seems elated. Happy. Still quite surprised by it all.

I continue to hold space as he relaxes and integrates what has opened.

Slowly, he returns from the expanded state into full awareness of our surroundings.

The cloud cover has now moved in, and there is a little chill in the air.

He notices my hands are cold.

“Did I do this to you?” he asks. “Your hands are cold.”

“No,” I say. “Don’t worry about that. I get cold easily.”

“Did I hurt you?” he asks.

“No. You didn’t hurt me at all. The weather shifted. I will be ok. Thank you for asking though.”

Both of us smiling and giddy, with a bright new glow, everything relaxes.

We stand there for a moment longer, grateful for the exchange. Returning to a more embodied and grounded sense of Self.

There is a feeling of kinship and trust between us now. Something has completed.

Spontaneously, we let go of each other’s hands.

Five minutes have passed.

It is time for me to be on my way.

He thanks me.

I thank him.

We say our friendly farewells.

No further inquiry about phone numbers.

No further invitations for a coffee date.

Nothing of the sort.

He goes his way.

I go mine.

It truly is amazing what can happen in five minutes. And what can open when we stay just curious enough to listen.

CIRCLING UP WITH THE SHAMAN WOLVES – A true story of women, wolves, and the healing field that opens between worlds

Tug. Tug. Pull. Pull.

Little Wolf pulls me forward.

I feel her strong vital pulse and surprising grip twisting my shirt, gathering it into a spiraling knot at the center of my back.

Before I know it, she has positioned me directly in the front row of the group.

Strategically placed.

Directly in front of the Shaman Wolf of the pack.

A gorgeous white wolf rests peacefully on an old wooden platform.

His presence is calm. Grounded. Mystical. Otherworldly.

A hush begins to move through the space as we are invited to connect with his healing energy.

Moments before, we had signed the legal consent forms.

The kind of forms that feel like you are signing your life away. But something compels you to do it anyway.

These are not domesticated animals. They are not completely wild either. There is a protocol in place to ensure everyone’s safety.

Just in case.

These are Shaman Wolves.

So we are told.

And here we are.

Standing in the desert Sun.

Being invited to hang out and commune with the wolves.

Little Wolf’s breath grows warm upon my neck.

I turn to face her.

Little Wolf is the alpha of the pack in human form. The bridge and guide between the Shaman Wolves and her guests at the Wolf Sanctuary.

I turn around again.

And strangely, mysteriously, she is now out of sight.

I hear a gentle stirring from the corner of the wide open wolf pen.

Where did Little Wolf go?

What compelled her to pull me close to the Shaman Wolf just moments before?

My mind begins looking for clues.

I remember her words to us just before we entered.

“Listen up,” Little Wolf had shared with the group. “There are shamans among this pack of wolves that you are about to meet. You may be approached by one of them. Let them come to you. Let them sniff you. Stay calm. They will not bite. They like people. There is nothing you need to do. Just follow my lead and you will be fine. It is important that they come to you. You will be wise to give them space.”

I scan the wolf pen, trying to locate her.

Then I hear a sigh.

And then another.

A few women catch sight of Little Wolf.

I turn to look.

“It’s Little Wolf. She has collapsed. She has fallen to the ground.”

Through the settling dust, I can see a faint glow in the distance.

Like a mirage.

Two women are lifting Little Wolf from the ground and ushering her as discreetly as possible out the gate.

Chatter begins to ripple through the space as Little Wolf heads back to the house.

A sense of uneasiness rises in me.

Not fear exactly.

Although, it makes me wonder who the “alpha wolf” in charge is now.

The energy in the pen has shifted.

It is palpable.

I make my way toward a close friend of Little Wolf’s. She is also a friend of the wolves, and a new friend of mine. She is who I traveled with to the desert.

I wonder if this is why Little Wolf pulled me close to the wolves.

Had she sensed something was about to happen?

Had the wolves?

I turn to this woman, the second alpha wolf in command now, and ask how she would feel if we invited a few moments of silence to honor Little Wolf and bring a sense of calm to the space.

She responds immediately.

Enthusiastically.

“Yes.”

Right away, she calls everyone to gather in the center of the circle.

Everyone arrives from all four corners of the wolf pen.

We settle in.

I thank everyone for gathering and share a few words about why I felt inspired to invite silence.

Everyone seems pleasantly surprised.

And willing.

We attune.

We settle in.

We invite a silent moment to connect.

Tuning into the land, we naturally begin to align our energy with the spirit of the wolves.

A wave of energy begins to rise and build within our circle of women.

The desert is active with life.

Roadrunners and wolves.

Humans and sunshine.

All alive on this rich desert floor.

As we connect with the landscape, in the center of the wolf pen, a great veil begins to lift.

The energy that felt heavy and dense moments before begins to soften.

Even the heat of the day no longer feels unbearable.

We are now between worlds.

The land feels alive.

Electric.

Vibrant.

Being present with the flow of energy, we root in a little deeper.

A rolling and shaking sensation begins to rumble below my feet.

Is everyone feeling this? I wonder.

My senses heighten.

There are about eighteen wolves on the land, held in various pens, of all shapes and sizes.

And yet, in this moment, I feel them as one.

One voice.

Telepathically communicating.

So it seems.

The heartbeat of the Earth draws us closer, magnetizing the field.

The rolling and shaking begins to soften, dropping into a gentle pulse.

Strong.

Vital.

Rooted.

Still.

A stream of inner visions awakens.

A vision of Little Wolf flashes before my eyes.

I see her lying down on her bed.

Resting.

Healing.

Held in love.

A second image forms.

I see the wolves.

The wolves are communicating with us.

I can hear them.

I can see them.

I can feel them close to me, as if their presence is moving across my skin.

They communicate in a language beyond words.

I listen.

Mostly, they show me images.

Messages are shared and revealed.

The wolves are at peace.

Resting in this space, a beautiful energy radiates from the center of the circle out across the whole land.

For a few moments, we remain inside this calm presence.

Then, slowly, the circle begins to complete.

The energy expands beyond us, meeting all forms of nature and human life around us.

I open my eyes.

With gratitude, I check in with the circle and thank everyone for taking a moment to gather.

A palpable shift is felt by all.

An experience of interconnectedness expands in every direction.

Our group of ten women exits the wolf pen together, greeted by happy sun shining faces waiting patiently for their turn with the wolves.

Just when I think the great adventure is over, I am flagged down by my new friend.

The woman who supported my request.

She invites me to join her while she feeds the wolves.

I gladly accept.

I enter and stand close inside the entrance, waiting to be called in.

Three wolves gather near me.

They come close.

They sniff my body.

Everywhere.

Whoa. Intense. Yes. Everywhere.

After the wolves are fed and calm, we turn to leave and close the gate.

Then we hear a howl.

Aaaaooooooo.

Then another.

Then another.

“That is for you,” she says. “They are thanking and honoring you for what you did today.”

Naturally, we howl back.

Thanking and acknowledging the wolves for their magic.

Their presence.

I am moved.

Deeply touched, really.

Amazed by what can open when we are fully present to the moment.

And the magic that opens through the power of the circle.

Love,

AliSun Trees

LOVE,
ALISUN TREES

Sleep has been few and far between this week. And in that space, a portal opens.

All my life I have traveled in this way. Slipping into the night, finding myself in places far beyond the familiar. Dark forests where I move through flight, arms outstretched above the tree line. As natural as breathing. Encounters arriving without warning. Visitations with beings and galactic vehicles from other dimensions. Experiences unfolding as vividly as waking life.

It begins subtly. Energetically. I drift into a space of stillness. Not quite asleep. Not fully awake. Something in between. As if I am wrapped in a cocoon of light, preparing for space travel.

This is how these altered states have come to me over the years. Not forced. Not sought out. More like a spontaneous opening. One I am not always a willing participant in, in all transparency.

Over time, it has become a practice of surrender and trust. A teaching on impermanence. On the acceptance of death. And a way of learning how to navigate any terrain I enter, remembering that my light and my love are eternal.

Learning to soften into the experience, lucid and awake, I accept the invitation. Sometimes I wake myself, shake off my energy field, and return to the awareness in the room. These days, it is by choice whether I answer the call.

The common thread throughout my life has been two nights of sleep disturbed from my natural rhythm. That is all it takes to send me on a Vision Quest.

It is like being handed the keys to a world vast and mysterious, existing just beyond the imagination of this waking world. Multidimensional in nature. Familiar to me since childhood.

Last night, I woke to the stars shining through the window in a blackened sky. Awake. Present. Alert, yet relaxed. I lay there for hours, suspended in that quiet space, feeling something gently stirring just beyond my reach. Familiar, yet mysterious.

Eventually, I softened enough to follow the golden thread.

It began as an ordinary dream. Walking down a path toward a house. Then something shifted. I realized the world I was entering was not like anything I had encountered before. Lanterns of golden light lined the way, leading toward a garden. Two spaceships emerged from the earth, anchored as if relics from the past, existing in a timeline beyond prediction.

I turned the corner.

Gravity shifted.

Everything slowed.

Everything hovered in this space, synchronized, moving along an unusual elliptical path.

Color began to reveal itself from every edge of the darkness. Jewels spilling from golden treasure chests. Crystalline citrine caves. Moving statues of gods and goddesses impregnating the space. All of it in slow motion. Everything passing quietly, energetically, as if guided by its own unseen rhythm. Unusual. Provoking. Penetrating. Surreal. Connective. Etheric.

The realm carried the distinct flavor of the underworld where Hades lives. The place where Persephone was once taken, and now holds court. Empowered. Passionate. A world rich with color and life. Movement and vastness.

Light did not come from above. It emerged from within everything. From the air. The waters. The earth. The crystalline structures embedded in the landscape. An inner illumination, like a jewel lit from behind.

Crystal caves glistened with a dark brilliance. Waterways moved slowly through the terrain, holding reflections that shimmered with a metallic sheen. The atmosphere carried a density, though not heavy. Gravity felt different. A low hum moved through everything. Steady. Constant. Slow. I could feel it more than hear it.

Saturated hues of amber, violet, and emerald green wove through the shadows through a flickering light. The darkness itself felt alive. I felt safe to wander. To wonder. To participate, if only for a moment, in this peculiar part of the universe.

I felt like a visitor. And somehow, I belonged.

For a moment. Not longer.

Time did not move forward there. It expanded. Opened. Stretched across millennia.

It was time to return.

Gradually, I followed the thread, moving into an in between space in the dreamtime, until I returned to my body here and now.

Sometimes I step toward these experiences knowingly. Lucid. Other times, it feels like being drawn by a gravitational force that cannot be ignored.

Last night was one of those experiences.

And as I moved through it, I could feel that familiar thread guiding me. The same one that has been with me for as long as I can remember. The one that opens the way, not by force, but by absolute presence.

A reminder, perhaps, that these worlds are not somewhere else entirely.

They are here.

Just beyond the threshold.

Between the veil and the stars.

Magical Blessings,

AliSun Trees “Auntie Owl”