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Hucha: A Mundane and Mystical Approach

~ Q'enti Wasi ~ Leave a comment

The goal of spiritual life is not altered states,
but altered traits.
— Huston Smith

I have written many times about hucha—heavy living energy, which only human beings create. Today, I want to look behind the term to tease out nuances of its meaning. I believe this can help us appreciate what hucha is, how we create it, and why our main energy practices address it. I offer a deep-dive class on Quechua mystical terminology and concepts, and one of the terms we examine is hucha. In this blog post I expand on what is discussed in that class.

When the paqos explained to don Juan Nuñez del Prado, who is my primary teacher, what hucha is, they described it as llasaq kawsay, which means “heavy living energy.” Of course, it is not literally heavy. It just feels that way to us, primarily because we are reducing the efficiency and effectiveness of our ayni (which is explained below). To really understand hucha, we must parse several other terms. We start with kawsay, which comes from the root Quechua word ka, which means “to be.” Kawsay refers to existence, to being alive. Thus, kawsay is referred to as “living energy.” The paqos tells us that everything in the created, physical world is comprised of kawsay. In its most refined form as “light living energy,” it is called sami (variously spelled samiy). Kawsay’s and sami’s natures are to flow unimpeded. But we humans can slow down this life-giving and life-empowering energy. That slow sami is called hucha. So hucha literally is sami, just slowed, filtered somehow, or even blocked from flowing through us. We take in less life-force enegy than we could.

The reasons for how and why we block sami, and so create hucha, are varied and beyond the scope of this post. However, core reasons are that we are evolved mammals and we still can be driven by our impulses and survival needs. We may engage in the world and with our fellow human beings in ways that are based in fear, competition, selfishness, and other kinds of unconscious or barely conscious (instinctive) behaviors and emotions. Even when we are engaging from our highest sense of self, this coherent state of being can be upended by all kinds of conscious and unconscious needs, desires, beliefs, and the like, such that we fall out of ayni. Ayni is reciprocity. For our purposes here, we can think of it as the Golden Rule that takes us beyond self-interest to mutuality: instead of attitudes such as “for me to win, you must lose,” we seek ways for everyone to benefit. Ayni is much more complex than that. However, the easiest way to understand why we slow sami down and create “heaviness” for ourselves and others is that we are not acting from ayni.

Ok, so far so good, even though this discussion is by necessity skimming the surface of why we create hucha. But let’s look at the word itself from the perspective of the mundane, by which I mean the common, everyday world. Trying to understand a mystical concept from the viewpoint of a non-paqo can easily can get us off track. But I like to probe into the more mundane definitions of the Quechua terms we use in our mystical practice to get a sense of the fullness of meaning. We must be aware that those mundane definitions usually are analogous and not literally in one-to-one correspondence with the word’s mystical meanings. Hucha is a concept that I think is particularly illuminated by examining its non-mystical, mundane meanings.

Let me say that I have discussed the value of making such correspondences between the mundane and mystical with don Juan. He cautions that I cannot go to Quechua dictionaries and the anthropological literature to find definitions for our mystical terms because the paqos were using many of these terms to mean something different from their more common meanings. This is a caution we must always take to heart. Still, I cannot help but wonder: if the paqos could choose any term they wanted for various aspects of the mystical work, why did they choose a term that is commonly used and that has an already accepted meaning that is different from what they meant by it? I find—and I speak only for myself—that looking at those common meanings does, in fact, help me understand the contexts and even nuances of the mystical use of the term. I often find that the common definition, or what I am calling the “mundane” meaning, of a mystical term provides a world of associations that can be useful and even enlightening to my practice. They help me peek behind the curtain of a language that is not mine, of a mystical cosmovision that originally was foreign to me, and of possible nuances that can help me understand conceptually what it is I am doing when I use many of the practices of the Andean sacred arts in my daily life.

Ok, that is a lot of explanation and more than a few caveats. Let’s get to examining sami and hucha, for we cannot understand one term without looking at the other.

What are the common dictionary meanings of sami/samiy? Sami is defined as good luck, good fortune, happiness, benefit, favor, dignity, contentment, success, and other terms that relate to having well-being. Samiy means benefit, favor, good luck, dignity, and blessing. For me, those definitions reverberate wonderfully through the more abstract meaning of sami as “light living energy.” Kawsay is life, and the goal of life as described by many Andeans is allin kawsay, living a “good life.” Another common term is sumaq kawsay, which in its various meanings describes living a “beautiful,” or “good,” or “amazing” life. So that is our aspiration: to be the owners of sami and live in ayni, and thus to cultivate the most amazing life we can.

Now let’s look at the word hucha. What are its common definitions? Sin, offense, crime, infraction, guilt/guilty, error, fault, transgression. Reducing the flow of sami—creating hucha—reduces our well-being. These terms bring some clarity to the consequences of our creating hucha: We have made some kind of energetic mistake or caused some measure of energetic offense such that we have transgressed the codes of human moral conduct and the universal energetics of ayni. We have reduced our own, and perhaps someone else’s, well-being. It is interesting that the word “hucha” is part of all kinds of Quechua terms relating to justice, law, and even the criminal justice system. As examples, the term hucha churaq means “prosecutor” and hucha hatarichiy means “lawsuit.” From the mystical point of view, I think it is not too much to say that when we create hucha we are at fault or guilty of violating personal, societal, universal, and even energetic “laws.” Hucha (as filtered or reduced sami) weakens our inner equilibrium, lessens our sense of contentment and happiness, and diminshes our dignity and generosity of spirit.

I don’t know about you, but for me, knowing the common “backstory” to the terms sami and hucha brings a lot of “flavor” to their mystical meanings. We all create hucha for our own reasons, most of which relate to our personal shadow wounds, limiting beliefs, emotional proclivities, and such. When we create hucha, we, and not anyone else, have transgressed the law of ayni. That is why we say the Andean mystical tradition is a path of personal responsibility. However, it does us no good to blame ourselves; instead we must be self-aware enough to notice our lack of ayni and the reasons we are creating hucha. Then we can take responsibility for ourselves, and we can use our practices to transform the state of our energy. While there is no moral overlay on energy, we can see how there might be moral overlay on how and why we create hucha—we are all developing human beings and have work to do on ourselves. As don Ivan Nuñez del Prado explains [slightly edited for clarity], “I think hucha is like a [inner] filter. Your personal background, family background, all of that is a filter, [which gets] in the way of the light of your Inka Seed. So, you have a source of light within you and then what comes out will go through the filter, what comes out is a projection of the filter [rather than of your] light.” Our filters are mostly all the unconscious ways we are holding limiting beliefs, living from judgment about ourselves and others, deflecting our pain, projecting out onto others what we refuse to see in ourselves, and running the energy of many other kinds of largely unconscious psychological and emotional dynamics.

As we relate to the world, the state of our own poq’po (think of this as our psyche) is of the utmost importance. We bring self-inquiry to our own state of being, for we can only know the world through our own perceptions. That is why the paqos tell us that what is heavy for you, may not be for me, and vice versa. It is why don Juan says, “If something is heavy for you, you need to trust yourself. It’s heavy for you! Even if your teacher comes to you and says, it feels light. No, it’s heavy for you.”

Reducing our hucha means increasing our karpay: our personal power. Our personal power relates to how easily we can access our human capacities (all of which are held as potentials within our Inka Seed) and how well we use our capacities. Sami and hucha are ways we display and use our personal power. Remember, hucha is sami—life-force energy—although it is slowed, filtered, or blocked. But make no mistake, hucha is a “power” to the same degree that sami is a “power.” Don Ivan provides a good explanation about this: “Power is the capacity to do something. You can use hucha or sami. When you grow, it is good to [reduce] your hucha because you release the [blocking energy of] past mistakes and everything and raise the level of sami in you. Then your actions will be more elevated. But you can do things with hucha. It’s not a moral judgment.”

It’s all energy. What partially, although impactfully, determines the quality of our lives is the proportion of hucha to sami in our poq’po and how we are “driving” either or both of those energies. Our core energy practices are designed to reduce the amount of hucha we have and that we create, and how skilled we are at using our energy in the world. Don Juan reminds us: “You always have the capacity. You can release all the hucha you have. Remember hucha sapa? If you are a hucha sapa, you have a lot of hucha. You focus on your Inka Seed, and you have the power to release it. Your capacity is determined by your Inka Seed, which has no hucha. Your Inka Seed is the place in which you have the potential and capacity to drive the energy.” And this is why so many of our practices—saminchakuy, hucha miqhuy, wachay, wañuy, and others—are focused on reducing our hucha (and thus increasing our sami). By using these practices, we have the means to redistribute our energy by transforming hucha back into its natural state of sami or releasing stubborn hucha to Mother Earth, as she will help us by digesting our hucha and returning it to its sami state. We have spirit assistance and our many energy practices to help us drive energy from our Inka Seed (our highest self), increase our sami, and improve our ability to live a good and happy life—at both the worldy/mundane and spiritual/mystical levels.

Wañuy: An Alternative Use

~ Q'enti Wasi ~ 2 Comments

If you have taken the three-part Andean training with me, don Juan Nuñez del Prado or his son don Ivan, or other teachers trained by them, you will remember that as part of the Chaupi training we learn the practice of wañuy. This Quechua verb literally means “to die.” The practice is used to release any fear we have around our own physical mortality. When we release our hucha, or heavy energy, from around possible forms of our death, we can meet death as a friend. We can celebrate our return to our paqarina—our place of origin, which is with Taytanchis or God, or whatever term you choose to use for First Consciousness or Source.

The beauty and power of Andean practices are that they get to the fundamental dynamics of energy. They are not wholly dependent on form, nor are they restricted by a singular intent. So, while this is a practice used to prepare us for a conscious death, it may be used productively for other purposes. This blog post offers ways to adapt this practice to alleviate any fear, anxiety, or worry.

In the traditional practice, we start by initiating a saminchakuy, and we tune the sami to munay. We may do a general hucha-release of our wasi (poq’po and body), and take the munay through most of our mystical “eyes”—the ñawis—to release hucha from those in which it accumulates. (There is no hucha at the sonqo ñawi.) Then we choose a possible death, that is, we choose one way we think we may be likely to die. (Because there are so many possible ways we can “drop the body,” this is a practice that we do repeatedly.) We begin a visualization: a conscious, creative envisioning of the process of death. For the purposes of illustration, let’s say it is heart disease.  We move slowly from the present moment forward in time, feeling the impact of what unfolds: our initial diagnosis, our worsening state, our slow decline, our physical challenges or suffering, and such. There is no emotional avoidance. We immerse ourselves in the process. We engage our inner vision, our imagination, and, most importantly, our feelings. As we touch points of hucha, we release that heaviness into the saminchakuy stream of munay and give it to Mother Earth to transform.

In addition to releasing the hucha of our imagined physical and emotional decline, we may also become aware of the seqes—the energetic cords—that stubbornly attach us to our lives. We may struggle with letting go of our body. We may feel resistance to leaving our families and loved ones. We may face obstinate attachments to our status, achievements, money, or possessions. As we experience these resistances, we put any of that hucha into the saminchakuy flow as well. Eventually, when we feel as free of hucha as possible and we are ready to drop the body, we see ourselves do just that: our soul and spirit exit the body and we return “home.”

We are complete with the practice when we feel we have released our fears or hucha around that specific death scenario. Of course, we may have to do several sessions to achieve that level of personal freedom. Then we go on to deal with the next type of death we feel hucha around.

When I teach this practice, it is inevitable that some students feel resistance, or outright alarm. The most common questions are, “Isn’t doing this calling in that death? “Are we in danger of creating that reality?” No, we are not. I usually make two main points. First is the focus of our intent. We acknowledge that “energy follows intent” according to the Andean sacred arts. However, our intent is not to die or to die in any particular way, but to be free of fear about any possible way we may die whenever our life span is up. Our intent is hucha release—to be able to pass from this body with beauty infusing our souls whenever our death does occur and in whatever way it happens.

Second, we are giving ourselves a lot of credit if we think a half-hour visualization, despite how richly detailed and feeling-oriented it may be, will create reality. If that were the case, we would all be healthy, rich, famous, and sipping umbrella drinks on the beach of Waikiki. (Or whatever you feel the pinnacle of life looks like.) To be more realistic, we are a mess of contradictions, because our conscious and unconscious (shadow) are driving our energy moment to moment in conflicting ways, expressing our light and our darkness. We have a lot of hucha, which creates all kind of energetic filters that reduce our power. One relatively short visualization session is not going to cause us to acquire the coherence and personal power to call in any fixed version of reality. None of us (or at least no one I have heard of or know of) is free of power-reducing filters, and so none of us has mastered driving energy perfectly, such that a single visualization creates that reality.

Which is why, I like to think, the paqos in their wisdom designed a practice such as wañuy. It is a kind of hucha-filter cleaner or remover, one of many the tradition teaches. Although the paqos may have created the practice to help us deal with hucha around our mortality, I believe it can be adapted usefully to deal with many other common kinds of possible hucha, particularly fear, anxiety, and worry.

Let’s look at how we can adapt this practice to deal with those and similar kinds of issues. Let’s use one of the most common fears as our example: fear of public speaking. The way to adapt the process is to use it in a way that is similar to other forms of fear-reduction—desensitization. Wañuy does this in a purely energetic way, but I believe combining it with action out in the world is a way to supercharge its effects. Ayni, after all, is intention followed by action.

We would begin the way every wañuy session does: begin a saminchakuy, tune the sami to munay (love energy), and clear our wasi of as much hucha as possible. Then we begin the visualization. We move through it step by step, encompassing the entire process and releasing hucha related to any part of that process. We might begin by seeing ourselves accepting the invitation to deliver a speech, preparing the talk, researching and writing it, and then practicing it at home. We release any hucha into the stream of our saminchakuy. We continue by visualizing ourselves dressing to go deliver the talk, driving to the venue, being greeted by the host, seeing the audience as we walk onto the stage, being introduced, and then giving the talk. At every point where we feel hucha, we put it into the saminchakuy. The visualization process ends when we finish the talk and receive applause. We might have to do this process many times before we find our fear of even thinking about giving a public talk diminishing.

Sometimes we might not see results if we go right into visualizing the whole event. It is just too emotionally overwhelming. If that is the case, another way to use wañuy is to undertake, over time, a series of sessions that each desensitize us to portions of the process. We “chunk” the process and do as many sessions as necessary to clear hucha from one small part of the activity. Then we work on the next chunk of the process. And so on, until finally we can visualize the entire process without feeling any significant fear.

We can follow this protocol for any kind of hucha and emotional heaviness that has an unusually tight grip on us: anxiety, guilt, shame, worry, judgement, dislike of or shadow projection onto a person or group, shadow triggers . . . The paqos have provided us a way to release these kinds of emotional heaviness in a non-analytic, non-therapeutic way. Using wañuy, we are tuning ourselves purely energetically, although the effects reverberate through our emotional and physical selves.

Ideally, we will want to follow the release of our emotional heaviness with action in a way that tests the results out in the real world. While not everyone would follow up releasing their fear of public speaking by engaging in a public talk, we can easily find ways to put ourselves in similar situations and check in on whether we are indeed free of anxiety or fear. We might volunteer to give a presentation at work, or offer a toast or give a eulogy. In other, more concrete cases, such as a fear of elevators or snakes, we certainly can put our energy work to the test. We deliberately take an elevator or go to the zoo to see snakes. We might still feel nervous, but we ideally will be free of our normal anxiety or fear. If we find we are not, then we can always engage in further wañuy sessions.

We often don’t think of wañuy outside of the context for which it is used in our training. But it is a hugely adaptable practice that can be a powerful tool for helping us to stop avoiding aspects of the world and instead reengage with life in more expansive, confident ways.

The Yanantin of Yachay and Llank’ay

~ Q'enti Wasi ~ Leave a comment

The Andean sacred tradition identifies three primary human powers. They are, in order of prioritization, munay (feelings), llank’ay (action), and yachay (knowledge). I find it interesting that although yachay is at the bottom of that hierarchy of three human powers, it is the first human power that we develop in our training. Our training begins with understanding the Andean cosmovision and energy dynamics, especially the core dynamic of ayni, or reciprocity.

From the Andean view, understanding fuels action. And through that action and the resulting experience, understanding deepens. We tend to translate yachay into English as knowledge, reason, logic, or understanding. However, for the Andeans, and specifically for the paqos, yachay has a more precise definition: our accumulated knowledge as gained through personal action, and thus through direct personal experience. Llank’ay, or action, is embedded in the very meaning of yachay, and vice versa.

In this way, yachay and llank’ay form a yanantin. A yanantin is a pairing of entities, items, or energies that appear to be oppositional or contradictory but are complementary. The two are relationally bound one to the other to create a unified whole, such as night and day, up and down, male and female. If we probe into the yachay and llank’ay human powers, we will see that everywhere in our work with the Andean sacred arts, they are yanantin in nature.

Our training usually begins with learning the core energy dynamic of ayni. In the larger Andean society, ayni is defined as reciprocity and explained using the phrase, “today for me, tomorrow for you.” It is the personal and social ethic of giving and receiving for mutual benefit. In the sacred arts, as in the social sphere, ayni means we do not just think about helping someone or promise that we will, we express our willingness and we follow through.

In the sacred arts, the meaning of ayni expands from a social energetic reciprocity with our fellow human beings to energetic reciprocity with nature, spirit beings, and the world of living energy. Ayni is a two-way flow of energy: a back-and-forth flow between the two entities. But it must be initiated by one of the parties to get the energy moving. That initiating dynamic is what we will look at here.

Our focused awareness—our intention—moves energy, or as don Juan Nuñez del Prado often phrases it, “drives the kawsay.” When he uses the word “drive,” he does not mean controlling energy or willfully forcing energy in one direction or another. Rather, he is suggesting only that our intention can influence energy, gently nudging it here and there in our favor. Despite the maxim that “energy must follow intention,” don Juan and the paqos tell us that intention by itself is not enough to drive ayni. We are not going to think (yachay) the living energy into partnering with us in this dance of ayni. We must act (llank’ay) as well. We want to move energy in an intentional way that is useful to us. This takes both yachay and llank’ay working in unison.

One way to view this yachay–llank’ay initiating dynamic is through the following sequence of practice. Ayni as “intention put into action” arises from feelings and will (with “will” meaning choice). Ayni as intention is informed by our sonqo ñawi (feelings, including munay), our Inka Seed (the seat of our will), and our siki ñawi—an energetic center, or “eye,” at the root of the body, where the capacity is atiy. Atiy is, among other things, how we measure our personal power. Checking in on our abilities through the siki ñawi, we ask, “Do I have the capacities available to realize my intention through action?” Asking and answering this question is process governed by yachay. If we believe we have sufficient personal power to achieve our intention, then we go to the qosqo ñawi, the mystical center at the belly. Ayni as action is influenced mostly by the qosqo ñawi. This is the energy center where we enlist our khuyay (passion, motivation) and follow through on our intention by taking action.

From this sequence, we can see how the prerequisite for engaging in ayni is a well-developed yachay: our knowledge about ourselves. We must be able to honestly assess the state of our feelings, will, atiy (capacities), khuyay (motivation) and karpay (amount of personal power). Ideally, through yachay we undertake a realistic, honest self-assessment. That assessment then determines whether we go on to initiate our llank’ay energy and take action.

This yanantin of yachay and llank’ay comes into play even when ayn is not involved: when, for example, we have a completely spontaneous energetic or mystical experience. During such an event, we will be fully immersed in it perceptually and viscerally; we will not be actively processing it intellectually or analytically. Doing so would keep us from fully experiencing it. Once the event is over, however, we might seek to understand its nature and value. If it has meaning for us, the lived experience itself and its meaning are incorporated into our yachay. Remember, yachay is knowledge gained through personal experience. So, that experience enlarges our yachay. This expanded yachay adds to our kanay—who we know ourselves to be— and increases our karpay—our persona power, which is our capacity to act in the world day by day, moment by moment.

Although yachay literally means to have knowledge of or to know, don Juan reminds us that it also means “to learn, to find out, to have skill, to realize, to have experience, to have wisdom.” Yachay as one of the three human powers is the capacity at the kunka ñawi, or the mystical eye at the throat. It is paired there with rimay: the power to communicate with honesty, integrity, and a sense of the sacred self. Rimay is entwined with our yachay and llank’ay: we express who we are because of what we have learned throughout our lives from our first-hand personal experiences. Ideally, over a lifetime of experience we move from knowledge to understanding to wisdom. Part of what Andean pasqos mean when they say they want to be able to “work with both hands” is to work simultaneously with both the right-side yachay aspect of the sacred path and the left-side llank’ay aspects of it. Working this yanantin fuels their aspiration to be hamuta: a wise man or woman.

On Being a Paqo

~ Q'enti Wasi ~ Leave a comment

“What does it mean to be a paqo?” “Is it okay to call ourselves paqos?” These are common questions asked by people interested in the Andean sacred arts or who are studying the tradition. They are curious about the different kinds of paqos, how paqos go about their daily lives, what their responsibilities are, and the like. In this post I have gathered together many of these questions and provided my answers to them. The information I provide is my own understanding and knowledge of this tradition, and so nothing I share should be taken as anything more than my opinion.

Question: There are two levels of paqos: pampa mesayoqs and alto mesayoqs. What are the differences?

Pampa mesayoq and alto mesayoq are not designations of “levels,” but simply different kinds of paqos. They practice in similar ways, with a few distinct differences that characterize them as two different types of paqos. Pampa mesayoq can be translated, or understood to mean, the keeper of the earth signs or low signs. Alto mesayoq means keeper of the high signs. Both kinds of paqos share common knowledge, such as of making and offering haywarisqas (despachos), carrying a misha (mesa), healing, and so on. The main difference is that, according to the “old ways,” an alto mesayoq has mystical capacities that a pampa mesayoq does not. For example, alto mesayoqs can “talk” directly to spirit beings, such as an apu (mountain spirit), whereas a pampa mesayoq can only communicate with the spirits indirectly, such as through their misha or dreams. I don’t know if this distinction holds true today, but according to my teacher don Juan Nuñez del Prado, this has always been the main distinction between the two types of paqos.

That said, there is a specific way to think about paqos—both pampa mesayoqs and alto mesayoqs—as having “levels,” because there are stages to their development as paqos. These stages correlate to their accessing and being able to use more personal power. The levels, which are most commonly applied to alto mesayoqs, are: ayllu alto mesayoq, llaqta alto mesayoq, and suyu alto mesayoq. Usually paqos are “in service” to an apu, which is their guiding spirit. The apu teaches them and so helps them develop. All paqos start out in service to an ayllu apu, or an apu whose range of power is limited, such as to a village or town, or a small cluster of them. Hence, they are known as ayllu alto mesayoqs. As they develop their abilities, they may eventually be called by a more powerful apu, usually a llaqta apu, whose range of power reaches wider and farther, encompassing a larger region. Those paqos have reached a stage of development so that their power is equivalent to that of the apu, and so the paqo is recognized as a llaqta alto mesayoq. As paqos continue to learn and grow, they may be called by the greatest of apus, a suyu apu, whose power reaches across a vast region or even an entire nation. Once in service to this highest level of apu, these paqos are recognized as suyu alto mesayoqs.

There are two more stages of growth. After paqos become suyu alto mesayoqs, they might go on to reach the stage of the teqse paqo, or universal paqo. This is a paqo whose power can reach the entire world. Finally, there is the kuraq akulleq, which translates to something like the Elder Chewer of Coca or the Great Chewer of Coca. To my knowledge, at any one time there is one paqo who holds this position. Kuraq akulleq is a title conferred on an exceptionally wise and highly developed alto mesayoq through the consensus of a community. It is not something a paqo calls him- or herself. Rather, it is an honor bestowed by the community in recognition of that paqo’s expertise and experience and how he or she can serve that community.

Q: Who determines what kind of paqo someone is?

I am sure there are many ways to be called to the paqo path, but from what I have heard from the paqos I have interviewed or talked with (through translation), a paqo is called to be a particular type of paqo by an apu, another spirit being who serves as the representative of the apu, or by Taytanchis/God. When a person feels the call, he or she may go to an already established paqo, particularly an alto mesayoq, to discover if the call is real and, if so, what it means. The alto mesayoq may do a coca-leaf reading or consult with his or her misha, the spirit beings, or an apu to determine if this person’s call is to the path of pampa mesayoq or alto mesayoq. Sometimes, the person will intuitively know which type of paqo he or she is being called to serve as. That person has a choice to accept that call or not. For instance, as one paqo told me, when he consulted an established paqo about anomalous (and challenging) events that were happening in his life, the elder paqo told him he was being called to the path of the alto mesayoq. But this young man did not want the responsibility of being an alto mesayoq. If he was going to learn to be a paqo, he felt he would best fit into the role of a pampa mesayoq. And so that is what he trained to become.

Q: Should we call ourselves paqos? What kind of paqo are we training to become?

Although we might call ourselves paqos, what we mean by this is something different from what that title means in the Andes. For most us, we call ourselves paqos simply as a convenient way to indicate that we are learning or practicing the Andean sacred arts. But we are not literally paqos.

Paqo is a term rooted in the Andean culture. Thankfully, this is a culture that freely shares its tradition and practices. So, we are not in danger of cultural appropriation, for the paqos freely share the tradition. Today, they are almost always compensated for their time and expertise. However, payment does not negate the “ayni” (reciprocity) that truly drives their intent. They feel the energy practices are for everyone: we are all human beings and the goal of the work is to consciously evolve our humanness. However, we are at risk of cultural appropriation if we think of ourselves as either a pampa mesayoq or an alto mesayoq. These are not roles applicable to or recognized within our own cultures, and we risk misunderstanding what we are doing as practitioners of the Andean sacred arts if we think of ourselves as being either of those. An exception might be made if we spend time in the Andes apprenticing with a paqo and that teacher confers one of those titles on us. Still, if we come back to our communities, we no doubt will undertake that role in our own culture in ways that are distinctly different from what it looks like in the Andes.

The bottom line is that we are not training to be paqos except in the most utilitarian sense of using the same techniques that Andean paqos do to foster our ayni and fertilize our personal development. Therefore, calling ourselves “paqos” is mostly just a convenient way to talk among ourselves and acknowledge we are learning and practicing Andean energy dynamics. We likely would not use the term outside of our common community of practitioners since it would be meaningless to anyone else. 

Q: What are the duties and responsibilities of a paqo?

Paqos are first and foremost regular human beings, regular members of their communities. They are farmers, herders, weavers, husbands or wives, parents, friends, and neighbors. Their focus is on the duties and responsibilities that occupy daily life. No paqo whom I ever met is engaged full-time in his or her role as paqo. So, paqos are not spending most of the day communing with the spirit beings or performing rituals. They are going about their mundane daily lives until someone needs them to serve in their paqo capacity. What is that primary capacity? To serve their community.

Being a paqo means a person has knowledge and skills (and hopefully wisdom) that are above and beyond those of other community members. Although most Andeans understand and practice ayni and know how to make a despacho and so on, paqos are specially trained. When they are serving in their paqo capacity, they might be doing any number of things. While they may perform a ritual such as a despacho or undertake a healing, mostly they offer advice or solutions to people’s problems, sometimes gaining insight into the problem and the solution by throwing and reading the coca leaves. They may lead life-transition ceremonies such as the hair-cutting ceremony or some other coming-of-age ceremony,. They might lead a festival on a holy day or perform blessings for a wedding or death. Most of what they do is not “mystical” or “shamanic,” but practical. If I were to choose one primary responsibility that a paqo has it would be to foster social cohesion. That in turns helps ensure the well-being of all the members of the community. Don Benito Qoriwaman called the mountain spirits, the apus, the Runa Micheq, the shepherds of human beings. That, too, is the primary duty of an Andean paqo.

 

What Is an Andean Initiation?

~ Q'enti Wasi ~ 4 Comments

In the Andean mystical tradition, the Quechua word karpay usually is translated as “initiation.” How reliable is that translation? Is that the primary meaning of the word? Just for the heck of it, over the years I have searched this word in various Quechua dictionaries and online translation programs. It never comes up, although recently an artificial intelligence-assisted online translation program returned an answer: its result was that karpay means “tent.” I suspect that is because the Quechua word is close to the spelling and pronunciation of the Spanish word carpa, which does indeed mean “tent.” I also searched spelling variations such as qarpay and qharpay, but if those words appeared, their meanings had no relevance to karpay as initiation. (I purposefully excluded from my online search books, articles, glossaries, and blogs by people who are studying or teaching the Andean sacred arts, as they would likely know the term. I was looking for independent verification of its meaning, and I found none.)

For good measure, in my most recent search I reversed the terms and put the English word “initiation” into a few English-to-Quechua translation programs, and most of them returned the Quechua word qallariy, which was variously defined as “source,” “start,” or “begin.” Ok, fair enough. An Andean initiation opens us to something, such as personal growth or an energetic capacity. But qallariy is not the word the paqos use. 

The failure of this recent search was not surprising, since, as I said, I have done this kind of search before and not found this word. And I knew why. Many years ago, I asked don Juan Nuñez del Prado about its absence, and he explained to me that karpay is a term used only by the paqos within the context of their work in the Andean sacred arts. It does not appear in Quechua dictionaries (as far as we know) because it is not known or used by others.

So, just what are the core meanings of the word karpay? And what is an Andean karpay? We turn to our teachers and the paqos for explanations. This blog post covers the basics, although no doubt there are many other ways to understand the term karpay and carry out a karpay than what I cover in the space allotted here. As always, I focus on the two lineages (Q’ero Wachu and Cuzco Wachu) that I learned through don Juan Nuñez del Prado and on his explanations over the years.

Let’s start with the meaning of the word itself. Karpay can indeed be translated as “initiation,” although that translation provides only a rudimentary sense of the word, which is rich with nuance. There are at least three more expressive definitions of karpay. If we follow a specific sequence of discussing these three meanings, we also will gain an appreciation for what is happening during a karpay.

First, karpay refers to our personal power. We say that our full potential is held within our Inka Muyu, or Inka Seed. Everything that is possible for human beings to express is held as potential in this energetic field. Our work as paqos is wiñay (to germinate) and phutuy (to bloom or flourish): to germinate our Inka Seed, nurture its growth, and bring our human and metaphysical capacities to full flower. Our karpay as our personal power is how much of our Inka Seed potential we have developed and have access to right now. (See my blog post of June 20, 2016, “All About Karpay,” for a specific discussion of karpay as personal power.)

Second, karpay refers to a sharing or transmission of energy between two people or entities (such as a person and a spirit being). Which begs the question, “What energy is being transmitted?” That is the third facet of the definition. What is being shared is some aspect of our personal power, such as our sami or munay. So, the core meaning of the word karpay for paqos means to share their personal power with another person or entity through an energy transmission of some aspect of that personal power. To sum up using the term itself, a karpay (initiation) is the energetic sharing of a particular quality of our karpay (personal power). It is a process somewhat similar to the Hindu practice of shaktipat.

Here’s the rub. During a karpay as an initiation (karpay as verb, we might say), we can only share according to how much personal power we have in the moment (karpay as noun for personal power). If a person is sharing munay during a karpay as an initiation or transmission of energy, that person can only share as much munay as they have developed within. If that person has developed their capacity for love only a little, then they can share only a weak love energy. The same goes for any of our personal powers: if we have a lot of sami available, we can share a lot; if only a little, we can only share a little.

When the sharing is reciprocal—when the teacher shares their energy with the student and then the student also shares their energy with the teacher—it is called a karpay ayni (or sometimes the word order is reversed: ayni karpay). Ayni means interchange or reciprocity. So, a karpay can be either a unidirectional sharing of personal power from a teacher or paqo to a student or other person, or a reciprocal exchange between the two parties.

As I said, a karpay or karpay ayni as a transmission of personal power does not have to involve two human beings. It might occur between a human being and a spirit being or nature being, such as between an apu and a person, or vice versa. The karpay of an apu can, like a human being’s, vary from a small amount of power (as from an ayllu apu) to a midrange level of power (as from a llaqta apu) to an enormous amount of power (as from a suyu apu). Or, a karpay might be a transmission of sami from Creator to a person. There are all kinds of possibilities, but as a transmission or sharing of personal power, any of these situations could be considered a karpay.

So what do karpays among paqos look like in the Andes mountain and Cuzco regions of Peru? I am sure there as many variations as there are paqos, because as a sharing of personal power a karpay can take many forms. I have talked with various paqos who report that during their training they were given karpays that involved being sent by their teacher to spend a night in a cave or on top of a mountain to receive the energies there. Or that they and their teacher went to a specific sacred site or sanctuary and performed certain kinds of energy work there. The most common form of karpay that paqos have shared over the years is the receiving of sami through the immersion in water, such as at the sacred lagoons on the slopes of Apu Ausangate. Karpays tend to be fairly simple in form. That is why I advise people who are working in Peru today to be at least a little wary when a karpay is an elaborate ritual. In the Andes, one of the cardinal rules is to never waste energy. The energy work, even during a karpay, tends to be simple rather than complicated and invisible rather than having much of an outward form.

All that said, there are a few recognized formal ways that karpays are performed or occur. Don Juan has said that according to his paqo teachers, within the overall framework of the tradition there are only five traditional ways to be “initiated” as a paqo. These are the core traditional karpays by which paqos are called to the path or karpays that they receive during their training.

Karpay Ayni: the way of the paña, the right-side practices as taught by don Benito Qoriwaman. The Karpay Ayni takes the form of the teacher sharing their energy with an apprentice and then the apprentice, in ayni, sharing their energy with the teacher. There is another paña karpay form that is unidirectional: the paqo puts his misha (mesa) on the apprentice’s head (or sometimes over their sonqo ñawi or qosqo ñawi) and shares sami with that apprentice to empower them.

Chunpi Away and Ñawi K’ichay: the way of the middle work, the chaupi practices as taught by don Andres Espinosa. The Chunpi Away and Ñawi K’ichay are the joint karpays to become a chunpi paqo (a specialized kind of paqo known for exceptional healing ability, among other abilities). These karpays are done together, and they involve the “opening” of the mystical eyes, the ñawis; and the weaving of the energetic belts, the chunpis. However, it is not really the paqo who is giving this combined karpay. The paqo is pulling up Mother Earth energy, and she is doing the energetic work of the karpay.

Unu Karpay: the way of the lloq’e, the left-side practices as taught by don Melchor Desa. During an Unu Karpay, an apprentice receives the teacher’s sami as transmitted through water. Sometimes hucha is also purposefully released. Often, a paqo teacher will take an apprentice up to the sacred lagoons to do this type of karpay. But it can be done through any source of water.

Kaypacha Qaqya: The extreme left-side karpay is kaypacha qaqya: being struck by lightning and, of course, surviving and being changed. This is one way to be called to the paqo path.

Hanaqpacha Qaqya: A rare kind of this same left-side karpay is being struck by hanaqpacha qaqya, which is to be touched by a metaphorical “lightning” from heaven. As don Juan explained to me, this is not regular lightning, but “lightning” as a white light that comes down from the upper world (from Taytanchis or God) and touches the person, changing them and calling them to the paqo path.

There are other kinds of less formal or traditional karpays. They are more variable because they are used by teachers who happen to do things a certain way. Whatever the form, generally a karpay is some kind of infusion of energy that empowers us in our development. A karpay does not raise us to a new level of personal power; it supports us so that we can better develop through our own efforts. For example, the karpay ayni is the karpay to the fourth level of personal development (which is a stage on the qanchispatañan, a word referring to the stairway of the seven stages of the development of human consciousness). As explained above, usually it is the reciprocal sharing of energy between teacher and apprentice. However, the realization of that karpay to the fourth level comes only when we have our own personal experience of that level of consciousness. That experience might occur soon after the karpay ayni or years or decades later. It all depends on our own developmental process.

To conclude, karpay refers to how much of our personal capacities we have so far developed and thus have available for sharing or bringing to the world. The same word, karpay, refers a form of “initiation” that is a purposeful or even formal sharing of specific aspects of our power to help an apprentice grow on the path or for some other specific reason. It also might be a transmission of energy—usually sami—to us from a spirit being or Creator, or vice versa. At heart, an Andean karpay is an opportunity: it is an infusion of energy that prepares us for growth and even fertilizes our growth. Receiving a karpay or participating in a karpay ayni conditions us to be in more conscious ayni with the living universe, with spirit and nature beings, and with our fellow human beings. Ideally, it helps us develop ourselves so that we can move up the qanchispatañan.