Peru Return part 2– Endurance, Instinct and Integration
Introduction
When I returned to Peru, the intention felt clearer than it had the first time. We spoke of El Dorado, of a lost Incan city hidden somewhere in the mountains, yet beneath that idea was something more instinctive. I was not travelling for gold. I was travelling to test what had steadied within me, and to return to ceremony from a place of greater awareness.
This time I did not go alone. I brought a young woman who was a friend, and together with Hugla we began organising a journey deeper into the hills than before. The mountains waited without promise, and I sensed that whatever we would encounter there would measure something far more personal than discovery.
Preparation and Re-entry
We flew into Lima and spent several days travelling south to visit sacred sites before heading north again. We made small offerings and carried out simple rituals, nothing elaborate, only preparation before entering the jungle once more. The air felt heavy with anticipation, yet this time I felt grounded rather than exposed.
.Back in Tarapoto, we found another guide, hired packhorses and bought supplies that would sustain us: rice, pasta and dried food that could be cooked over open fire. The practical details grounded the journey in reality. Beneath the logistics, however, ran a quieter current of intent.
When we finally began the trek, the first day passed steadily along dusty pathways climbing into the hills. By evening we reached a small village and sat with locals around a fire, communicating in fragments of shared language and gesture. There was warmth there, and acceptance, and it felt like a steady beginning rather than a dramatic one.
Endurance in the Mountains
The following day the weather shifted. Rain fell steadily, turning the paths slick and unstable. We moved ahead of the horses to make better progress, boots sinking into mud as mist drifted down from the higher slopes. The physical effort became constant, breath measured against incline and altitude.
By the time we reached another small village, the pack animals had not caught up and we had no food. The village teacher spoke to the locals on our behalf, and after some discussion they decided to give us their only chicken. It must have lived a long life, as it was tough beyond belief and served with dried plantains. The gesture mattered more than the meal. They had little, yet they gave.
That night the teacher offered us his bed, wooden planks resting on blocks, so that we would have somewhere to sleep. In that small, damp room, generosity felt more tangible than any treasure we imagined seeking. The mountains were testing our bodies, but the people we met were quietly strengthening our resolve.
Instinct and Strength
As we continued climbing, the terrain grew harsher. Mountains layered upon mountains, streams cutting through rock, mist reducing visibility so that sometimes we could barely see what lay ahead. The strain in my legs and lungs was constant, yet something in me felt unexpectedly strong.
At one point our guide began leading one of the pack animals away from the main path. Something rose in me, not as a thought but as instinct. Without calculation I shouted for him to stop and turn back. The voice that came from me felt older than reasoning. He turned immediately.
In that moment I understood how dependent we were on that animal carrying our supplies. Without it, the journey would have ended. Later, halfway up another steep climb, my friend stopped and said she could not continue. Turning back would have been harder than moving forward, so we climbed slowly together, step by step. It was not bravado. It was endurance. And strangely, that endurance felt empowering.
The Second Ceremony
Before returning to England, I chose to sit with ayahuasca again. This time it was one to one, just me and a shaman beside a fire in the jungle. There was no group container, no shared atmosphere, only direct confrontation.
As the medicine began to work, something primal surfaced. During the mountain trek I had once climbed to a summit and instinctively dropped onto all fours, feeling energetically feline, like a puma or panther. That same energy returned in the ceremony, not imagined but embodied.
I found myself on all fours, lightly scratching at the earth as if preparing a place to lie down. There was no purge this time. Instead, there was the rising fear of losing control completely, of my identity dissolving beyond recovery. Resisting that dissolution became more exhausting than allowing it, and eventually I lay back and let go.
Integration and Return
Gradually the boundaries of who I believed myself to be began to soften. There were no dramatic visions, only a quiet merging, as though the forest and I were no longer separate. The experience carried both terror and peace, yet unlike the first ceremony, it did not destabilise me.
When the medicine wore off, I returned slowly to a familiar sense of self, yet something had changed in a quieter and more integrated way than before. The fear did not grip me in the same way. The strength I had felt in the mountains now felt internal rather than physical.
We did not find El Dorado. No lost city revealed itself in the peaks. Yet when I returned to Lima and then back to England, I understood that what had been refined within me held more weight than any imagined gold. The second journey had not broken me open. It had tempered me.
As integration deepened, life opened into connection and an unexpected expansion through relationship.
Glastonbury – Recognition
Peru Return – Closing What Was Opened
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