After 30 hours of travel, including a nine hour layover in Lima, we arrived in the Richmond airport on Monday night, although sadly, our luggage did not. I was so exhausted and out of my body, we may as well have flown between planets as North and South America.
The morning we left the Sacred Valley of Urubamba I awoke in a dream state with no control over my body, 15 minutes before check-out. I called for help from the fetal position. Three of my retreat friends came to care for me, check my vitals, and pack my suitcase.
My energy had been too open. I’d caught a mal viento, an evil wind, Verena, a beautiful Peruvian working at Willka T’ika told me. She sprayed me with a tincture and told me to go sit with Pachamama, to heal, to release the bad energy into the earth.
Earlier in the week a Quechuan shaman read my coca leaves and told me, “You’re a healer. You can heal with your hands but also by sharing your experiences, nice and bad.” The deep sorrow I felt leaving Peru was not unlike the sorrow I felt 30 years ago leaving summer camp, that feeling of finding your lost family, dreams you never even knew you had.
But not coming home would have been far worse. Virginia is my blood and bones. My family and friends are the heart beating in my chest. My body is here and the rest of me should be arriving soon.
It’s exciting to find your work here in substack, Valley! I can’t wait to read more! 😎😍😎
Valley, I felt this way 30+ years ago when I came back to the U.S. from Cambodia. My boyfriend at the time, who had come to the U.S. as a refugee from Ethiopia, looked at me, hugged me, and said, "I'll be right back." He returned with flowers and said "It's hard, isn't it?"