Cusco, Peru: My Medicine Man (cont.)

This is a surprise. I come from a loving family and am surrounded by the very best of friends. My brain begins chewing on this piece of information. I lack love? Love for whom? Love from whom? Love? What the fuck?

“I want to do something for you,” Oscar Sr. says. “Will you let me?”

I open my eyes. There comes a point in every person’s life when going back provides more disappointment, more fear, than jumping headlong into the unknown. I had reached this crossroad. I wanted- needed- Oscar Sr. to continue. He put the condor feathers down and grabbed a clear plastic bottle from a shelf. Yellow liquid swished at the bottom. The woman standing there looked at me like I was crazy. I shut my eyes again and breathed deeply. I relaxed.

And then he spit on me.

The potion—which smelled peculiarly Pledge-like—mixed with Oscar Sr.’s saliva and whooshed over both sides of my face, under my chin and behind my neck. I flinched at initial impact and was reminded to relax. I briefly wondered if I was on Candid Camera. He massaged my chest and neck briefly with firm hands and cast the energy he gathered aside with a quick motion followed by a clap of his hands and a heavy expulsion of breath.

Alan Funk and squad quickly became a non-issue. Something was happening.

I felt his hands begin to whirl around me, not touching me but seemingly grabbing me at the same time. I relaxed further. He asked me, in methodic words that seemed to echo, to find the problem. I sank deep inside myself and searched. I could hear everything happening around me—on the streets, in the office—but I could not respond to it. I straddled this world and another. It was strangely empty and comfortable.

As soon as I found the problem plaguing me, no words passed between us; but Oscar Sr.’s  hands immediately began massaging me again. This time more gently and making upward motions about my torso and shoulders. He worked in this fashion all the way up through the top of my head and pushed the energy away once again with a clap of his hands and an expulsion of breath. He asked me to open my eyes and stand up slowly. I did. I paid no mind to the woman who probably now believed I was crazy. I was wrapped in that comfortable strangeness.

I shook my limbs awake. I felt lightheaded, euphoric. I told Oscar Sr. I had a buzz. He told me it was normal. He asked me if I had my answer. I did. He told me I needed more compassion and giving in my life. I agreed. He clasped my arms and I thanked him. He hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. I smiled. I felt good. I felt strong. I hugged him back. I stepped out of his office, into the light of the day, a different man.

I could tell you what my answer was, but that isn’t the point. The point is my answer is mine, and your answer will be yours. Only you can find what is important to you. For me it took traveling to Peru, where spirituality and civilization have long been tied together. My medicine, man ran a touring agency in Cusco—a name that translates into “navel of the world”.

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