The path of the shaman
Image: Crocodile river in the jungle. Drake Bay, Costa Rica, on the way to the shaman.
The path of the shaman
Wandering through the jungle near Drake Bay, Costa Rica, close to the border of Panama, I silently beg for the shaman to be at home. I’ve been searching for answers, for relief from the unbearable pain I feel inside, and the pain in my stomach, head, joints and muscles. I can’t take it anymore. Please, please, please.
He’s not at home. He’s in Nicaragua. I’ve been walking for hours, following the only visible trail that is here. I’m turning back before it’s too late to make it to the small village I came from this morning.
I don't want to be in the jungle after dark. There are poisonous spiders and snakes here, and God knows what else. Well, jaguars, I know that. And crocodiles.
I am an adventurer in this universe
trying to remember my mission
Born into this world by choice
knowing I would not remember my name
Forgetting who I am
Living in despair
Grasping for anything
that takes me closer to my truth
And suddenly!
In a flower, in the sky, in the eye of my horse
A glimpse, a joy, a knowing
I am THIS!
By C. O. Wilkens, White Willow
Image: Enjoying life. Me and my beloved friend Toledo.