Before you go on pilgrimage it is important to come clean, that way you can reach the mythic primeval land that is Wirikuta. Forgive yourself and others. Say sorry. Leave anger and jealousy by the side of the road. See where the material world intertwines with the world of spirits.
Be true. True like a wheel spinning without wobbles. True like a child’s smile. True without pretension, fakery, fronts, lies, back and forth duplicity, negotiation, or sleight of hands. True like a tree with its feet deep in the earth and its arms spread up into the sky.
You will encounter many dangers as you trek along the path. Poisonous serpents. spiny shrubs. The land of clashing clouds. Thunder, lightning, and muddy roads. You might get worked. Be cautious and aware, but do not be fearful. Stay together and proceed without delay. There is little time to act.
As you come close to foothills, hold onto kindness and humbleness. If you are successful, the clouds will open and welcome you. The Sun will be so happy to see you, she will cry buckets of salty rays. Take the passage way into the hills alongside the clear cold stream. The trail is not marked. Go by feel. Your guide will show up. She will leave you deer tracks to follow. You will travel through fine sandy washes, sticky river banks, hard granite pebbles, and basalt strewn cliffs. Recognize the patterns and let your mind wash back and forth between dreams and the hard trail. It is easy to get lost at this point and end up in knots. Do not trust your monkey brain of quick rewards and jolly thrills. Go a little deeper, a little south, a little to the left. Listen to the steady thumpity kbom kbom of the gushing blood pump.
The sacred trinity is in sight. A slow stalk in. Ready your bow. Almost there…
Wirikuta is filled with colors. It is just like I remember it. It is all that is good. All the ancestors reside here. They sit and chat, enjoying each other’s company. Sharing food. Listening to stories. Yellow and Brown. Red, White and Blue. Black and Orange. Green leaves of corn. Long white hairs of grandfather Hikuri. Pink flowers of Tutu. Bear is tumbling with Coyote, messing around. Salmon and his posse are headed out to sea. In the skies, Condor and Eagle are smiling as they play tag with the stars.
Then it is over. The realm closes. Shut down, time to go home, party is over. Go back to the grind, the struggle. Your guide flies away on the wings of green doves. She turns into a little ball. Adios! Abrazos fuerte!!
Mission Azul 