Huachuma Ceremony with Javier, July 15th

(pre-ceremony)



For now, I am tired, but wanting to be clear about my journey tomorrow. I drew a card from the Osho Tarot today:



TRUST



Of course, very appropriate for my recent difficulty with the bus from hell! I have pondered time and again that no matter how angry I feel toward a drunken, falling asleep, awful bus driver, the root of my anger in that situation is within me. Sure, his actions were unconscious, dangerous to many, many people. But if I leave that bus, and walk my way, I could still be struck down. And even if I become fanatical and never leave my home, a plane could crash, or an earthquake, or whatever.



While I feel that I have a good degree of control over my life, in fact, much of it is totally out of my hands. Sure, I can choose to do my part with ever-increasing awareness, but I don´t live in a vacuum! Things from outside of me will inevitably enter into my world, affecting me in small or great ways. And it is also my choice to make in how I will respond to these elements.



Control is conflict/aggression.

Apathy is unaware.

Fleeing/escapng is abandoning myself.



But...



Risk is required to live fully, and

Trust and Faith give me courage to go out into the world each day without succumbing to madness and fear.



The other night, several of us were out to dinner and Carlos made a statement about my having a lack of trust. And I acknowledged it, he´s right. I told him that I feel like I have a slight lack of trust in most things. And it´s true. One of the reasons I tend to be a loner is lack of trust in my fellow human beings. Many, many people have challenged my natural sense of trust that I have toward people when we first meet. But there are two errors here: first, my own expectations, and second, that the trust lies in other people and not beyond them in the divine order of the universe, in the sacred earth and sky.



So, my intention for my Huachuma ceremony tomorrow lies within this. May Grandfather Huachuma lead me beyond the very human limitations and failings, as well as my own expectations, and show me the deep trust and faith that comes from being truly grounded in the earth, the divine. And beyond thta deep feeling, known not in the mind, but in the body, or the felt sense, rests a true well being that comes with no worries, and the knowing that no matter what happens, I am taken care of by Mother Earth for all the days of my life.



On some level, I know this already. But I feel that I want to believe that it is true, that it is only words in my mind. I want to know it in my body. Free of fear, free of worry, free of doubt. Comfort in groundlessness, as Pema Chodron states it. Knowing that the rug is constantly being pulled out from under me, every moment, over and over. And being so centered in myself, and so unattached to certainty or patterns or habits, that true freedom results. Spontaneity. Flow. Again, in this sleepy moment, these are all beautiful, lofty concepts, but I pray that Grandfather Huachuma will show me how to live this way. Faith. Trust. Spontaneity. Flow. Groundlessness.



__________________________________



To write about yesterday´s ceremony is the hardest job so far because of the depth of the experience, for how far it reached into my dark places and dragged me to confront what doesn´t fit the way I´m choosing to live. All of my previous ceremonies have taken me to meet my crap, for sure. But in this one, my whole world as I know it crashed down, leaving me in sorrow, confusion, despair; a total loss of faith and trust in my fellow humans. And gradually, a new sense of trust and faith filled me again, freeing me from so much old baggage, of my old way of being. I am deeply humbled and moved by the gifts of vision that this medicine has given me. It would be best to start from the beginning.



I knew from over a week ago that I wanted to be with Huachuma for my birthday. Since my first ceremony was so filled with insight and a deep sense of connection, I felt that to spend time with this plant medicine would be a beautiful way to receive wisdom for my next year of life. Stephanie and I had talked about doing it together, but when I was talking with Daniel and Mary and found out that Javier was doing a ceremony on Tuesday, I knew that it was a good thing, the timing felt perfect. I only had to wait to see if my stomach illness was completely done, and then talk to Javier about it.



I wasn´t sure why, but I was nervous to talk to Javier. (Now I understand it was because I didn´t trust him...or anyone, for that matter...) I saw him a couple times during Monday morning, but was weird and didn´t say anything. Avoidance. And on Monday afternoon, I knew as I walked back from town that I had to go talk to him. I went first to find Daniel, and asked him to take me to Javier´s since I wasn´t sure where to go. I followed him, and he introduced me to Carolyn, who´s living at Javier´s, and who told us Javier was resting. Daniel totally called me on being too shy to come on my own, too!! After a few minutes, Javier appeared, and I asked. He said it would be fine, and asked some questions about my other experiences and what I was working on. I told him of my recent sickness, and of my ponderings on restlessness, and also on trust and control, relating to the traumatic bus ride from Cusco. He told me to get clear on my intentions, spend time alone, rest well, and we would leave at 730am on Tuesday. No food, bring water, sunscreen, something to lay on, and some food, like bananas. Good to go.



What I now realize is that my intentions came from my purest desire to grow and heal, but my ego wanted the growth without any suffering- to transcend the problems, and essentially escape them without the absolutely necessary process of going through them. And I know that´s not possible, but how the ego hopes and clings to the possibility.



We all met up at Paz y Luz as planned, and Javier had arranged taxis for us all: Daniel, Mary, Carolyn, Marie Therese, me, and him. I rode with Mary and Carolyn, and in about 45 minutes, we arrived in Tipon, and headed up the narrow dirt track to the ruins. We headed up into this lovely place, with terraces, ruins, rooms, and a wonderful network of fountains and water channels. We stopped by one fountain for a tobacco purification and to wash in the water. Then we headed up one of the terraces, one in points, sunny, backed by a stone wall with some shade, all grass-covered. This would be our base-camp. We sat down, made ourselves comfortable, and prepared to begin the ceremony and receive our medicine.



Javier came around once more for a tobacco purification, and then felt each person´s pulse on both wrists, acupuncture style, and asked about how much medicine we wanted. For me, he asked if I wanted to start slowly and maybe take more, or to start with a strong experience. I chose the latter, and my dose ended up being three heaping spoons of powder, plus a little more. One by one, we went up, set our intentions, and drank the medicine. We were instructed not to eat until he gave us the option of breaking the fast, not to speak to each other, too, and not to roam farther than we could see. Then, he sang some icaros, medicine songs, and we began to settle down and await the medicine´s arrival. Javier also came around to guide us through some breathing exercises to help bring the medicine into us.



It was in the middle of these breathing exercises that my stomach began to feel queasy. I´d already seen Carolyn beginning to purge, and thought to myself, ¨great, another day of puking!¨ I sat, feeling stiff and breathing deep and slow, trying to alleviate the nausea. I thought about my previous blissful experience with Huachuma, and though I tried to let go of my expectations, I though of how shitty it would be to spend the day miserable and nauseated. As the nausea grw, I got up to find more space of my own, not so close to the others. After all, I didn´t want to puke where one of us would end up stepping, sitting, or rolling in it. I moved to near one of the points of the terrace, and sat down to be miserable.



I tried to find the beauty around me, and found one dry flower stem, whose empty head held so many interesting dents where flower petals once were. I pondered it, holding back my nauseañ soon, Javier came over to check on me. When he asked how I was doing, I held up my stem and told him that this was beautiful, but that I was feeling sick. He asked me to clarify, and I specified that I felt like I was going to puke, and that I was sick of puking. He asked if I was no more determined than that, to give up so easily. I told him that I was very determined, but that after being sick for a few days, it was frustrating to be sick once again. He pointed out that I was sick of puking and I hadn´t even started yet. He suggested that I relax and go with the experience, leaving me with my miserable stomach.



I sank into a place of disgust, hating the way I was feeling, more miserable than I had willingly chosen - and was paying for - feeling ill. A huge struggle began in my mind, of resisting the feeling of needing to puke, and begging it to happen already. Finally it came, I retched out the foul, bitter green stuff. I had felt it would purge with force, but that was not the case. Feeling a little better, and not sure if there would be more purgign, I moved a bit away and spread out in the grass. I wasn´t sure that if by puking it all up I would have a lightened effect of the medicine, and my misery and doubt mounted.



I stared off into the clouds, watching them move and breathe. I watched the few other people in the site. I looked into the grass, eager to feel lthe joy and bliss of connection I had previously experienced in Huachuma ceremony. None of it. I felt like I was grasping for the familiar, safe beauty of a world that had once embraced me, but I was now forsaken. I saw only the world in the ordinary way, and felt separate from it, estranged.



At some point, Javier came to me a second time, asking how I was. I waved my hand, indicating so-so. He noticed that I had purged and then began to try to remind me of my intention: restlessness. I stopped him and said no, that I´d changed my mind, that I was working with trust and control. My speech was already feeling limited and I could barely articulate much. He began to offer some insightful words, but I just wanted him to go away. I felt so much tension, resistance. He left me with the words, ¨there´s a beautiful creation out there for you to enjoy...¨ Yeah, I thought, but I couldn´t feel it.



I began to cry. Some tears had already flowed, but now they started in their fullness. Trust and control, huh? Why should I bother?! How can I trust anyone at all? Then it became clear to me that this issue was about the assault. I wept in the grass, burying my face in it, weeping for that defining incident that had robbed me of my trust, leaving me in a state of fear, defensiveness, needing to keep others at a safe distance: of needing to control my environment in order to protect myself. And that was done by mostly spending time alone, but also by surrounding myself with the wrong people: damaged, unconscious people, who would justify my need for control.



I began to sink into an awful place. A place of dark purple-black poison, deep and thick, that threatened to pull me under. I looked out into the beautiful mountains and ruins, and could make no sense of it. It distorted and became flat, and I closed my eyes to escape from this hell-place. But closing my eyes was no use, because the hell was inside of me...darkness, poison. And then Javier came to me again.



He asked me how I was, and I nodded stoically, not looking at him. I was resisting crying, and again, wanting him to go away. No chance. He spoke to me of safety, and the need for saftey in times when I was in a situation needing no extra caution, of fear of surrendering, of resistance. His words were loud, too close. They seemed to come slowy, disconnected. The wind was loud, too, and whirling all around, and the landscape was foreign and kept changing in dimension and shape, moving quickly, so strange. At the same time, Javier´s words seemed to take eons to come, the space between them felt interminable. I struggled to follow, trusting that my subconscious mind could follow.



At some point, he put his hand in the center of my back as I was laying in the grass. It felt like I was trapped, like he was pushing me into the earth. I struggled to breathe, feeling suffocated. A part of me, a yellow part, wanted to flee and roll off the edge of the terrace. Another part of me felt like howling, screaming, wailing like a banshee, a demon being exorcised. And eventually I began to weep, without reserve. Javier stayed by me, hand on my back, sometimes silent, sometimes offering words of guidance, sometimes singing icaros to me. My sense of being there came and went as I delved into the realm of lack of trust and hurt.



I thought of the injustice done to me. I wept for my suffering, for the pain it caused me. And I began to consider all the other hurts and injustices done to others every day in the world. How could I feel trust of my fellow human when we harm each other and the earth constantly? It seemed like a worthless endeavor. Javier sat next to me still, and when my tears ceased flowing for a moment, I told him that three years ago I was assaulted in Bolivia. The words seemed distant and disconnected, but I felt it was important to share what I was struggling with. His words of guidance were usually well timed, and my mind´s reaction was usually one of sarcasm: I realized that I didn´t trust him, or any man, and that in holding on to this deep distrust of the whole world, I was creating a life of alienation and abandonment for myself. He spoke of blame, anger, injustice, of shame, of being the victim, of defensiveness, of holding on to this experience. And all were true.



I have felt anger at the world for its harm and injustice, feeling my own in a bigger context. I have been angry that this could happen, especially to me at the end of a beautiful spiritual journey. I have clung to injustice as a concept, and felt sympathy and empathy with all those who have been made victims, though I have refused to embrace the role of the victim, weak and damaged. I have felt shame, that I could have been so stupid to get myself into such a dangerous situation, and guilt that my ridiculous quest for meaning could have such dire consequences. I have felt a hard, defensive reaction in myself in any social situaion that feels slightly unfamiliar, and even lately, had carried a tightness in my body as a matter of habit. And for sure, I have held this experience as a part of my story. Not in a poor-me way, but in a hard, controlling way. I felt all these things in myself as I rode the waves, acknowledging the truth of it all. My heart was bitter and damaged because my deepest quest had been deeply dishonored. And while I have done much work to release this from my body and mind, it had burrowed into my heart, black and poisonous. And while I acknowledged all these feelings, I felt no sure way to release it. I had no clue how to do that.



Javier guided me with his words, that while this thing could not be erased, that I didn´t have to hold on to it. Essentially that it was a part of my story, but it was a choice to hold on to the reactionary feelings, or to release them to the earth. As I wept, I felt them begin to drain out of me, and it hit me: everyone who has ever hurt someone else has been deeply hurt themselves. That while the injustice is real, the root of causing harm is in the passing of it from one hurt person to another. And in knowing that, I thought of Mother Earth, how we go on hurting her, and she keeps on growing and nurturing us anyway. And as I lay there, tearful in the yellowed, mostly-dead grass, I could feel how even then, in its mostly dead state, the grass was thick and soft, happy to give me a soft place to recline. And this was trust beyond any conditions, trust based in faith, the essence of nature is trust. And that our essential nature as humans is the same, but that we lose that connection. And laying there, being comforted by the earth, I was trusting that the ground would continue to be there to hold me, that Pachamama would nurture and provide for me. I asked, ¨how can I trust my fellow humans in this same way?¨ And the answer was, ¨Practice. This is the purpose of intimate relationships, to practice trusting another in spite of what s/he does to break your trust, make you angry, etc.¨ At this point, the whole ceremony shifted for me. I surrendered to listen to the messages of healing that were to follow.

Not surprisingly, the issue that came up next was my mother. While I had effectively purged my anger toward her in a couple of previous ceremonies, I had not yet learned how to truly forgive and heal our relationship. I saw that she, too, was a hurt being carrying forward the pain to others becasue she knows no other way. And I realized that I have no idea what has hurt her, and that she has probably never had any opportunity as powerful as the one I was having to heal these deep wounds. And what a simple, yet profound gesture it would be to go to her, to take her hands, and to listen to her. I asked the medicine how I could help her, and I was told to go to her with a week´s time, to plan to go somewhere, just the two of us, and to spend the time letting her talk, asking her what has hurt her, and honor her process of healing. Practically speaking, shed have to be ready and willing, and that may not happen. But the thought and feeling of being able to not only go to her, but to be open to facilitate her healing brought me to feel true compassion, and I realized that whatever I had previously felt and believed to be compassion was little more than pity. A totally new, profound feeling. I even tried to think of calendars and dates of when I could go to see her, but such topics crashed in the timeless arena of San Pedro. I relaxed and knew that I would figure that out soon.

Javier came over to me again, and I was sitting up. At one point, lost in the sequence of the day, he had told me, "you are so generous with others, now be that generous with yourself." This time, he asked me how I was doing and I said, "better." He asked me if it wasn´t time to break my fast, and I shook my head, no. He asked if I didn´t think I deserved it, and I said I didn´t know. He told me that I did deserve it, and I agreed to take some water. He brought my bag to me and sat down next to me again. I tried to take my water bottle out, but the clip (caribiner) blew my mind - I couldn´t figure out how to get it off my bag or the bottle! I looked at him and he looked at me, and I burst out laughing, so baffled by it all. He laughed too, and gave me a hard time about the safety of my water bottle, and how I had to securely attach it to my bag, and it was funny, I saw the absurdity of it, just another symptom of control and fear, the lack of trust. And he made a poignant observation about my country being security and safety obsessed, and in spite of my best intentions, I carried that within me, too. And it´s true, even when I mock my country´s ways, I am not immune. He reminded me not to judge my country for this, but to instead understand it and live free of it. And the same compassion I had felt for my mother expanded to my people, and all people for that matter. I felt love and understanding for all the people in the ruins, even those who were clearly just there to see it all and snap some photos. My judgement dissolved, and love for humanity filled my heart. And a smile began to spread across my face, pure and genuine, maybe even beatific, like the clouds clearing from the sun. I felt truly happy and full of bliss.

So many things then came and went. The essential teaching had ended, but there was much more to be shown. The feeling of love that trust could bring were given to me. The feeling of a stem of grass seeds across my face was exquisite, and I let it trail there slowly. The face of a dog that burst into flowers filled me with love and joy. The exquisite beauty of Tipon, the secrets that were waiting, all was too good to be true! I realized that the light of day was waning, and could hardly believe that it was possible that the day was nearly over. It defied my whole sense of time. The joyful voices of others began to invade my reverie, breaking my concentration on listening to the messages of the medicine. I did hear that I could model healing for women based on what I had learned, both during this day, as well as what I will learn with my mother. I also understood that my bamboo flute music could be the center of creating my own healing ceremonies. I leaned my left ear to the ground to hear these messages.

I then felt inclined to listen with my other ear turned back over my shoulder. I then sensed the white light from my ayahuasca ceremonies. The light, over my right shoulder, appeared then as two old women, one in front of the other, the second one who is peeking over the shoulder of the first. I wasn´t clear if they were ancestors from two different generations, or if the second one was shy, but I quickly realized that these two grandmothers were the two sets of hands that lifted me up into the familiar, blissful home-space in my previous ayahuasca ceremony. What a gift, to meet them! As the coolness came over Tipon, I asked them to teach and guide me, particularly in the ways of healing with plants, in whatever way I am intended to be involved in healing.

Marie Therese came over to me, to ask how I was doing. Though she speaks very little english, in this moment, language was not a barrier. She stood behind me, guiding me to lean into her legs, and she did some kind of energy healing on me, my head and face, mostly. And as I leaned into her strong legs, I realized that I had never before trusted another human being enough to totally surrender my control and allow someone else to support me. It felt good, to be in true, unconflicted contact with a fellow human being, and I hoped that others were not like me. She told me that I was a woman, that we were women, and it was a beautiful moment of sharing. I looked down into my left hand. I had been gathering burrs from the ground all day. While I do love them and find them beautiful, I knew early on that I was collecting them to represent the wounds I have felt, or the problems I was working with. I looked down on about 20 little burrs. I had thought about putting them in one of fhe water channels, but they were far below, and I still couldn´t walk so well. I then, too, realized that air was the element of this particular ceremony, and that I could free them to the air. There, with Marie Therese by my side, I looked at her and then threw them all out toward the edge of the terrace. Gone! She said, in english, also a puzzling thing, "you are a woman, you are a mother." I still cringed at the sound of the word mother. Not so much because of any problems with my own mother, but in suggestion that I could be a mother. All the meant, though, was that I was spreading these little seeds, and earth mother. And it was true. I don´t have to have a kid to feel my connection with nurturing the earth!

So, I began to sit with the word, mother. Holding it in myself, not rejecting it, but I began to see images of women, round and pregnant, brown, round stars, Pachamamas, with open hands outstretched and wild hair flowing all around, and I felt round and open and creative too. The feminine creative force of the earth. Another pure smile spread across my face as I felt all the ways I was a part of this feminine creation, an Earth Mother in many ways. And in the grass, I began to see mandalas forming as my vision fell across the ground, little circular, green forms of divine cosmic order, spectacular. In my hand, two long stems of grass seeds, one light, one dark. They represented union, relationship, of coming together in trust. I placed them in the back of my journal.

I felt that the medicine was still in me strong, but was in decline. Javier brought me some ginger tea, so that I wouldn´t wither, and he told me to drink...he had offered me something called maca pops, too, but I couldn´t bring myself to put something so non-foodlike in my body at that time. I drank the tea, and began to feel the waves of intensity relaxing. I felt so happy, too, so natural. And a secret little grin just wouldn´t leave my face.

Throughout the day my body temperature had been fluctuating. Hot, cold, hot, cold. I left the intense sun a couple times, but also would touch the top of my head to feel whether the sun was too much for me. But at this point, the light of day was quickly fading, and a chill set in with the waning afternoon. I sat, filled with understanding and deep compassion, feeling as if my heart had been pierced. The blue shadows of day were ancient, and I, too, felt as if I had lived a lifetime during the day. I wished for the sun to go back, stunned on some level that it could really have been getting late. But I also felt weathered, seasoned, wiser. I thought about my wounds that I had faced during the day, and how they were still with me, scars...yet they were sweet somehow, vintage, they had seasoned my heart, making my ability to love deeper, richer. And I felt a sweet aching within me, a depth, a knowing. I felt that I was now ready to really love others, to help them heal, too. I was so moved, so touched by the day´s journey, so grateful to have released this deep suffering. So full of love and acceptance of myself, and ready to enter a new year of life, truly reborn.

A group with a Qèro shaman was heading out, and the shaman was playing a flute...badly. I tried not to judge, but waited for them to leave to begin my own playing. I pulled out my flute and sat it on the ground. Javier shouted over, "yeah, show èm how it´s done!" I said that that wasn´t the right attitude, and then Carolyn said to offer it up to the Apus. And I felt the desire to play grow within me. I slid into the sun at the point of one of the terraces and began to play. I felt my body snap up into a straight, meditative posture, and a deep well of strength surged into me as I began to play. The tone was rich and strong, and I felt the air flowing through me with such groundedness, with a rick power. I´m sure that I´ve never played better. I felt that I was listening to the music of the place, of the land, and merely channelling it. I played from my core, and it was beautiful. Eventually the wind began to play with me, blowing against me, causing me to shift around to avoid the currents of wind. An amusing game that led me to eventually call it done. The sun had fled to the other side of the ruins, and we all packed up to go sit there and close our ceremony. I took a few photos, hoping to capture these two tiny plants at the edge of the terrace...but my camera couldn´t even register them. I was sad to see that, but understood that this is the nature of this medicine. They were dear to my heart, like black candleabras, anchoring my vision for so much of the day. I thanked them and bade them farewell.

Walking was a challenge, but a delight to my bare feet. I began to think about my southern heritage and all the mocking of folks in the hills wearing no shoes. And I laughed and embraced my heritage, my ancestors, and in doing so, I knew I was accepting all that I am even more completely, and that felt so good. I walked slowly with Carolyn, telling her that I would like to live someplace where I never would need shoes, and she agreed.

We made it up to the high point across from where we had been all day. Stunning beauty, the rugged mountains, bright afternoon sun lingering awhile longer from our place. Smoke covered the whole site, burning my eyes. The soft grass and earth turned prickly with thorns. I knew that I´d need to put my shoes back on soon. We sat, shared, talked, laughed. Javier sang some more songs, we all sat in a ceremonial circle, in communion once more. Mary shared some rose oil with me, so amazing! Then Javier, too, shared an oil, and I think it was also rose; he sang an icaro about the perfume of a rose lasting only a moment. So beautiful. Our time there was so sweet, so beautiful. He closed the ceremony as the sun sank behind the mountain, and we gathered our things to walk down.

I was slow, having a bit of a time maneuvering my body, and also feeling enrapt in all that was around me. Little flames of green flickered in the grass, the same as the mandalas had been before. We stopped by the same fountain to wash again and a couple of Peruvians asked to take a photo with us, very amusing! We then made our way down. I stoped a few times, once called by some beautiful plants, with a bizarre stick-mantis-like insect on one of them. I called Carolyn over to see it, and we pondered him for a moment. I was called next by a spiral shell, abandoned, then by another tiny one. I had found one other shell up at the peak where we closed the ceremony. I felt sure to keep the large two, but the small one wanted to go. I turned to see an old lady, then a young girl. I went over to the girl and opened my hand, offering the shell; she looked skeptical, but the older woman told her that it was a gift. I smiled to the girl as she took it, then I left, without saying a word.

We piled into the taxis and made our way back to Pisac. I felt the old habit to resist, to feel carsick, to not trust, but then I told myself that driving wasn´t my job, and sat back to enjoy the ride, to take in the beautiful mountains. The night came. The moon was bright. I saw faces, bodies, beings, animals, and scenes in the tall mountains and cliffs. One very beautiful cliff had the most incredible texture. I named it Canyon of the Bell Flowers after the datura flowers that gracefully grow here, with their white blossoms like bells. We made it back into town and were caught for awhile in the traffic of the fiesta. Javier went to get soup for everyone, and we met up back at his house. We ate, sang, held each other, and talked. A lovely, intimate evening. And my respect and gratitude for Javier was tremendous. I now understand why people say he´s the best. Because he never abandoned us to our experiences. He was an incredible guide. He pushed me into my own bullshit, into the places I tried to escape. And I didn´t escape them, I went through them. Hard. But so worth it.

_________________________________________

The morning after, we all met to share our expereinces, to begin the integration. Each of us spoke, sharing our journeys. I had decided it was necessary to share the story of my assault, and was a bit nervous to talk about the intimate details of my journey, but also knew it would be good. Whem my time to speak came, I spoke strong and openly. And as I shared my story about the assault, Carolyn spoke up. She said, "I think I was there..." I looked at here, and my mind went immediately back to the woman who had held me while I cried, hysterical, at Hotel Torino in the lobby, the woman who gave me money to make sure I could get out of the country. Her name was Carolyn. And I leapt to my feet, my hands came to my mouth, and I knew it was true, it was HER! She stood, too, and I embraced her, held her so tight, in tears of amazement that this could really be true. I held her and wept, and the room was silent.

I am still stunned that this could be true! How in the world did this happen? That we would be drawn together again, here, in ceremony?! In a ceremony that dealt with precisely THAT incident?! And now, my heart is pierced even more fully, pierced by a gratitude that can never be fully expressed. And the whole incident has come full circle. The feeling that I have, knowing this, beging here with Carolyn, being able to thank her in my small way, is indescribable. It blows my mind beyond anything I could ever imagine. And if trust is my lesson, this has sealed the deal. The most amazing synchronicity of my life. God bless her!