Gaze Of The Mountain

My journey into the world of the occult started along my journey towards shamanism. It wasn’t intended that way, but those four days on the Inca Trail, the Qhapaq Ñan, were the catalyst for something I could no longer deny to myself.

It always ran on my family. But centuries had passed since our ancestor's world, where the Gift was appreciated and nurtured, had clashed with one that only seeked to extinguished it, in favor of a jealous god. But I never truly accepted it as mine as well until that penultimate day.

My trek had Choquequirao as the main goal. It is an ancient city, bigger than Machu Picchu, mostly and vastly hidden by jungle to this day. It was 2 days and a half to get there, and then one day to come back to our starting point.

The feeling of being observed, the shapes moving through the vegetation, I thought it was all part of my tiredness at first. And I forgot all about it as I truly struggled with the last few kilometers going uphill, before arriving to Choquequirao. It was in those hours that a feeling of knowing this place came to me, slowly at first, rushing with what felt like memories then. Even the way I walked in the Inca Trail changed, as if muscle memory had came to me on how to best utilize the stone steps the path was made of.

And as I got to the city, I had a warm and exciting feeling of coming back to somewhere I loved. I knew where to find things before the guide told us, and I felt like the streets could come back to life at any minute.

And then I got to the tallest plaza of the city. It was where the dead were burried. A sacred ground for connection with our ancestors, those who ruled and took care of the city, centuries ago.

It was there when I felt it. I turned my eyes away from the city, and into the distant mountains that surrounded it. And at distance, I saw the darkest mountain looking back at me. Like an eye of a giant creature, that "apu" and I locked eyes for what felt like ages.

For the Inca, there were spirits embodied in the mountains. They were called "apus", just like the gods and spirits they payed respects to.

Nothing was ever going to be the same after my encounter, even if it was miles away, from one of those beings, looking to me as if it had awaken from a long slumber. I will never forget the gaze of the mountain.