Don’t Help Me. Please.
I was driving home with my daughter when we noticed a large snapping turtle crossing the roadway. It was a tiny back street lined with a small pond.
During the Seeding the Light Gathering, I had the privilege of hosting Pascual and Jose Tomas in our home.
They feel like family as this was their second visit to New Jersey. We’ve also spent a week together in Damanhur and the Temples of Humankind in Italy. I’ve sat in many ceremonies with Pascual in Peru’s Sacred Valley. His flute playing often carried me up mountain trails in the thin air and hot sun.
People often ask me what it is like to spend time with a Q’ero medicine man. The truth is, it is probably not what most people imagine.
Yes, there are powerful ceremonies. Beautiful prayers laid in despacho offerings with sincerity and devotion. Singing to the fire while burdens are released and energy centers are revitalized. There is the witnessing of power flowing through healings, blessing and rearranging lives at a foundational level. And a weaving of wisdom that is difficult to put into words but is felt rippling through every gathering.
And yet what strikes me most has nothing to do with ceremony. It is how Pascual engages ordinary life.
After a long day of healing sessions and ceremony, he hustled over for a group picture, smiling broadly, happy to be surrounded by people. Later that evening, Pascual stretched out on the couch to watch the World Cup as lively conversation bounced between English, Spanish, Quechua, and the universal language of cheers and groans.
Whenever we drove from one event to another, Pascual was interested in everything he saw. Buildings. Trees. People. Stores. Animals. His curiosity about life never appeared to diminish, and he welcomed our questions about life in Peru and his work as a medicine man.
Pascual approached every new experience with the same openness.
He enjoyed traditional Mexican and Italian dinners, American donuts at Dunkin’, ordering pizza, grilling burgers and corn on the cob, and sampling whatever was placed before him. We wandered the Grounds for Sculpture enjoying the art embedded within nature, snapping photos, and quietly witnessing a marriage proposal. We stopped at DSW for sneakers and enjoyed our Walmart adventure, where I insisted Pascual try on pants before buying them. We gathered thoughtful gifts to bring home to his family.
One afternoon someone arrived with a beautiful handwoven band for her hat. It didn’t quite fit.
Pascual examined it carefully. He decided it needed a few stitches. He asked me for a needle and thread and sat down to fix it himself.
And somehow that, too, felt like a teaching.
Our gathering occurred during a heat wave. The chapel lost its air conditioning. Outdoors, it was 95 degrees in the shade. We were hot, yet no one seemed to notice. Everyone was so fully participating in the moment.
During a wisdom sharing, Pascual handed the microphone to Jose Tomas for translation. I was listening closely when Pascual poked me in my side. He whispered “Meditation,” pointing to my friend listening with his eyes closed and to a woman who was falling asleep in the heat. We dissolved into laughter. Pascual often drops into meditation (or perhaps takes a quick nap). We tease him about this often and he delighted in seeing others doing the same.
Bursting into laughter, making jokes, or just smiling for the joy of it all occurs in every circumstance. Ceremonies which exude power, genuine devotion, and pure prayers also contain bursts of laughter, hugs, and broad smiles.
He welcomed every gift with genuine gratitude. And often offers gifts in reciprocity for the care he is receiving. There is nothing forced in these exchanges. Just a natural way of being in reciprocity.
What touched me just as much was watching the participants naturally begin to do the same. Throughout the week they offered thoughtful gifts, expressions of gratitude, and small acts of kindness to Pascual and Jose Tomas. At the end of our time together they shared how deeply moved they were. Rather than feeling they had come to New Jersey simply to work, they felt they had gathered in ceremony with family.
Jose Tomas told us stories about how well known Pascual is. Not because he seeks attention. Quite the opposite. He has never seemed interested in being important. He is interested in people.
Whether speaking with airport workers in Cusco, blessing a soccer field in Curaçao, offering a despacho in the high Andes, or staying in touch with monthly phone calls, people seem naturally drawn to him.
Given these stories, we started calling him “Hollywood.” Pascual laughs every time he hears it.
Many people inhabit a role. Shaman. Teacher. Healer. Pascual inhabits his life.
His reverence for the sacred is inseparable from his reverence for everyday living.
Language and cultural differences don’t seem to matter much. To every experience, Pascual arrived with openness, curiosity, humor, and respect. People felt it and they responded with love, laughter, tears, joy, and respect.
For all the power people experienced in ceremony, I suspect this may be one of Pascual’s greatest teachings. He is fully present to what is arising in each moment.
Many people travel great distances seeking wisdom about how to live well.
Sometimes wisdom arrives in your home town carrying a market of handcrafts to support the Q’ero community. Relaxing during a soccer match. Purchasing gifts for family. Asking for a needle and thread. Working tirelessly through a heat wave. Enjoying a Pepsi. Offering powerful prayers one moment and delighting in an ordinary joke the next.
For me, the greatest gift was watching someone demonstrate how joy, love, wisdom, and power are a natural part of ordinary life.
It reminded me that being a person of wisdom isn’t defined by ceremony or role. It is revealed in the way we greet each person, receive each gift, meet each challenge, and participate fully in the ordinary moments of our lives.
Peace be with you and with all. No exceptions.
Learn the one essential skill that allows you to face any challenge with confidence, sturdiness, and inner calm.
More than a technique. It’s a game changer.
I was driving home with my daughter when we noticed a large snapping turtle crossing the roadway. It was a tiny back street lined with a small pond.
I recently found myself thinking about activism. About the many ways we show up for what matters to us.
As I considered this, three memories arrived. Rapidly, as if they were part of my contemplation.
The first was a conversation I had with a woman in my town. She was giving me an update on her recent gathering with other mothers protesting against gun violence. I was interested as we had explored what mattered to her as she approached retirement. Protecting children in schools and on street corners mattered, so she joined with other moms who cared about the same.
Three months ago, I unexpectedly entered into a relationship with a horse.
I met Zor during a visit to Liberty Stables in Florida, where I had gone to spend time with a friend’s horses. I had no particular expectations. I have no background with horses, no training, and no experience in equine-assisted therapy. I simply met this magnificent Friesian, and something quietly familiar unfolded between us.
I fell in love.
Eight years ago, I traveled to Costa Rica for a week-long retreat centered around ayahuasca, breathwork, yoga, and deep inner exploration.
Like many people who are drawn to these experiences, I went seeking something. You might call it a Divine encounter. You might call it awakening. You might call it healing.
I wasn’t entirely sure what I was looking for. I only knew there seemed to be a place people spoke about. That place beyond ordinary life.
The women who arrive in my classes, retreats, and therapy sessions are sincerely looking for healing, expansion, clarity, or sometimes just a little room to breathe.
They are thoughtful women, deeply engaged with the people and work they love. Rarely do they arrive because they want another spiritual philosophy. Most are carrying something much more ordinary.
A life that has become full. Beautiful in many ways, but crowded.
About twenty-five years ago, I was driving with a colleague to a local conference. As we approached the hotel entrance, I noticed an open parking spot near the front door.
“There’s a spot,” I said, pointing to the right. He drove past it.
A few seconds later, another one appeared. He drove past that one, too. Then I pointed to a third. “There’s a spot.” Without the slightest hesitation, Dan replied, “I’ll leave that for someone else.”