The gentle, wise, and deeply loving presence known as Wachuma, or San Pedro.
To me, Wachuma is a grandfather in every sense, Steady. Patient. Full of silent knowing.
He does not rush. He does not force.
He simply is, and invites you to remember who you truly are.
Two Paths, One Heart
There are two beautiful ways I’ve walked with Wachuma:
- One, by drinking ceremonially and hiking up the sacred mountains,
- And the other, by sitting quietly in nature, letting the medicine reveal its subtle truths.
Each path carries its own rhythm.
Each one has opened my heart in ways I never imagined possible.
When the Earth Begins to Speak
As the medicine moved through me, something sacred stirred.
I began to feel a deep, primal oneness, the kind that poets write of and mystics spend lifetimes chasing.
The mountains, the wind, the rivers, the trees,
They began speaking to me in a language my soul remembered.
They didn’t use words.
But I heard them clearly.
They welcomed me.
They embraced me like a father would his daughter.
They whispered:
“You are not alone.
You’ve never been alone.
We have always been here,
Waiting for you to remember.”
Tears of Remembering
I wept, not from pain, but from love.
A love so ancient, so vast, it felt as though it came from the Earth herself.
I began to sing.
Krishna bhajans,songs my grandfather once taught me as a child.
Tears streamed down my face as I sang to the sky,
To the wind,
To life itself.
It felt as though generations were singing through me.
Gratitude. Devotion. The miracle of being alive.
Wachuma Blossomed My Soul
Huachuma didn’t just connect me to nature.
He connected me to my soul.
He reminded me of my freedom, my free will, my truth.
That I am not separate.
That everything is connected.
That I am life itself, dancing in form.
In a single phrase…
Wachuma blossomed my soul.
