Starlight is fading. I feel the apus embracing me, their massive, deep resonance. Marvelous realms thrive within their interiors. I’m but a discoverer, an early explorer of these mystical, multidimensional realms. In the imagining capacity of a good mind, it’s possible to make seemingly unimaginable discoveries.
It’s said that life is about making choices. Right now I’ve got two. I alternate between staring at nothing in the fold of the tarp, my exhalations dull against it, or to relieve my discomfort
It’s June in the Adirondacks, typically hot and buggy, but this summer solstice in the North Country is chilly and wet. I take my first step in and every notion of warmth, so dear to the mammal, is gone.
It’s Day 2 of my Paqo Wachu, the day I embark on an overnight into wilderness. It’s been raining all night and well into morning. I sleep in. More than a bit. I run through the inventory for tonight, again.
When seen from the lake, Apu Sawteeth is like a sleeping dragon. I, paqo, on my wachu, am about to awaken it.
A no moon night in the North Woods is as dark as it gets. I’m laying in bed in absolute silence. I can’t see my hand in front of me. I’m swallowed whole into the Void. I’m in Camp on the eve of my Paqo Wachu, the pilgrimage Pachakuti Mesa Tradition initiates make to meet their Apu, the deity of the mountain that is called to them through shamanic journeying.