The Paqo as Witness and Activist

I have been reading a stunning book by Ariel Burger about Holocaust survivor and 97px-Elie_Wieselhumanitarian Elie Wiesel in his role as professor. There is so much in this book, titled Witness: Lessons from Elie Wiesel’s Classroom, that resonates with the fourth-level of consciousness according to the Andean tradition. It is especially applicable right now in US history because the current administration—all branches of our government: executive, congressional, and judicial—display so many qualities that are not third level, never mind fourth level. Wiesel warns us about and urges that we not turn a blind eye or a deaf ear to what is happening around us, in the US and around the world. With the rise of extremist politics, especially the “alt right” and “white nationalism,” and with the growing demonization of anything that is “other,” Wiesel’s warning are more pertinent than ever.

Although the book is heavily influenced by Wiesel’s and Burger’s Judaism, the themes are universal across cultures, religions, and politics. The theme that weaves through all of Wiesel’s wisdom is “to invoke the past as a shield for the future.” It is the stance grounded in what he calls “witnessing.” Witnessing starts with memory—of not forgetting, of learning from events that have passed about what may be or what may come.

He taught that “If anything can, it is memory that will save humanity.” How does memory “save” us, especially when history is revisionist and when, especially for young people, the past is only remotely known, is not very interesting, or seems too overwhelming to deal with. How do we remember and stand “witness” to colonial90px-Srebrenica_Massacre_-_Massacre_Victim_2_-_Potocari_2007 atrocities to the Inka, the indigenous North Americans, and so many other peoples? To the unspeakable genocides of Nazi Germany, Rwanda, Bosnia, or Cambodia, among others? How can we bear to make real the suffering in Yemen and so many other countries that is occurring as I write and as you read this? How do we respond when we see children torn from their parents’ arms at the southern border of the United States and processed into a bureaucratic system that has few or no mechanisms for ever returning them? As Wiesel’s student Ariel Burger asks, how can we “become custodians of memories that are not our own?” One of Wiesel’s many answers is as follows: “Our connection to the past is weak; it may be distant, at a remove. All we can do is tell the story, and we must. But in order to tell the story, we first must hear the story.”

In order to hear, we must be curious, we must inquire, we must educate ourselves, we must care, and we must be courageous.

This kind of engagement, starting with memory and extending to examining our own place in the world and our individual and collective engagement with our times, got me thinking about two foundational tenets of the Andean mystical path—to take personal responsibility for ourselves and to foster greater well-being in the world. We are not mystics that turn our face away from the world to other realms, mystical or otherwise. We immerse ourselves in the world, improving ourselves and contributing to the Runakay Mosoq, the rise of the New Humanity. To fashion an improved “us,” we have to know not only our current state, but our past as well. We have to use qaway, the mystical perception to see reality as it really is.

Many Native and indigenous wisdom traditions advise that you must know where you have come from to know where you are going. How many of us have been paying attention to where we have come from? How many of us find the current tumultuous present too divisive, painful, or tiring to pay close “witnessing” attention to what is going on all around us? How, as paqos, do we take personal responsibility not only for the state of our own energy bodies, but for the state of the collective energy?

With those questions as our launching pad, I will let Wiesel speak for himself. I trust that you will see, as I did, that this philosophy is the stance of a fourth-level consciouness.

“I don’t like the word tolerate,” Wiesel says. “Who am I to tolerate you? I prefer the word respect. I must respect you even if I do not agree with you. In fact, my disagreement may be an expression of my respect for you. If I truly respect you, 1280px-2018_Women's_March_in_Missoula,_Montana_101don’t I owe you my honesty?”

But what about respecting those whom we deem evil or suspect are capable of evil? There may be no evil or negative energy in the kawsay pacha, but there certainly can be human beings with evil intent. Wiesel says, “For my own sake, I must still acknowledge their humanity. To act as if a perpetrator of evil is not human is too excuse him too easily. Animals do not commit mass murder. Not only that, animals do not make promises. We must remember to believe the enemy’s promises, for whatever he says, he will eventually do. If you think of him as simply an animal, it will be too easy to dismiss his words. The killer is as human as we are, but he has chosen to betray his humanity. Therefore, I must oppose him, stop him where I can, protest where I cannot.” He goes on to add, “. . .the most inhuman person is still human and will be judged accordingly. The ultimate other is a human being who has renounced his humanity, and we must bring him to justice. But this is the ultimate, the extreme. In our lives, . . . we encounter simply the other, someone with vastly different beliefs. And we must struggle to understand him, to learn from him. The distance between us is necessary, not something to turn away from.”

When we encounter the other—those different from us or with what we deem offensive beliefs or behaviors, Wiesel says, “The choice is to listen, or not. I hope that you listen, really listen, not to find the other’s weakness but to find his strength. To disagree, to engage with controversy, does not mean to refuse to listen. On the other hand, to agree with someone does not mean to merge with the other. We are different; we have our own histories, our own destinies.”

There is a concept in mysticism and other spiritual traditions of spiritual madness. It is often defined as a breakdown that leads to a breakthrough to spiritual rebirth. Old man eye -User analogicus compressed 3358873_1920Wiesel tells us that this kind of madness may be the appropriate response to facing evil, suffering, and injustice. He says, “. . . if you look away from suffering, you become complicit, a bystander. Silence never helps the victim, only the victimizers. If you do look, you risk madness. Faced with a choice, madness is the better option. It is a better option because at least you will not be on the side of the killers.” He elaborates, “We study madness in order to learn how to resist. Madness holds the key to protest, to rebellion. Without it, if we are too ‘sane’ by the standards of our surroundings, we can be carried along with the world’s madness.”

What is the protester’s madness that counters the world’s madness? As I indicated above, it is a type of “mystical madness.” According to Wiesel, there are many types of madness. “There is clinical madness, which is destructive and which isolates and separates people. In its collective form, there is political madness, when nations give in to hate and lose their way. And then there is the opposite: mystical madness, which is an obsession with humanity, with redemption, with the union of people, with the messianic element in human life. One must be mad to believe that we can make the world better, that we can save humanity, or even a single life. It is unreasonable, irrational. But I am for that madness.”

Wiesel’s cites a story about why “madness” matters. The central character preaches to his fellow citizens about the dangers of what is happening around them and the evil of their own ways, but no one listens. When someone asks him why he persists, he says, “ I know. No one will listen, but I cannot stop. You see, first I thought I had to preach and protest in order to change them. But now, although I continue to speak, it is not to change the world. It is so that they do not change me.

As paqos, we know that all of our work starts with ourselves, including the work of improving the world. As the Eastern sages say, you are not in the world, the world is in you.

Responding to his students’ questions about personal responsibility and related topics, Wiesel addresses issues that to me are the past revisited upon the present in Liar businessmanterms of the current state of the US political system. We are witnesses to the actions of an executive branch that are unlike anything we have experienced in the past. We are witnesses to the decay, and perhaps even incremental dissolution, of our constitutional republic with its precious checks and balances. But other countries have gone through what we are now experiencing. We would do well to heed Wiesel’s words. Here he is speaking about Nazi Germany, answering questions about evil and the common person’s betrayal of his or her values, about those who blindly support those in power and those who watch their leaders go against their values but do nothing. He says, “Those who intend evil do not want others to ask these questions, and the bystanders who watch the evil happen avoid such investigation. This is the front line of the battle against fanaticism. The fanatic believes he has all the answers, and he has no questions. I have only questions, so I am their enemy. Questions save us from the certainties that lead to fanaticism. To be human is to ask questions, to ask why, to inquire, to interrogate each situation in a search for the truth, the truth of how we must act. We must face such questions rather than turn away from them; we must unmask and confront evil rather than reduce it to something comfortable. It is not comfortable to name and confront evil, but we cannot be too attached to comfort if we want to make the world better.”

If we detect injustice, deception, even evil, how do we make a difference? How can we be both witness and activist? Wiesel has many answers, but the most human one, the one that can apply to us all, is: “[O]ur success in responding to world changing events is often measured by the small moments and encounters. If we can act with greater sensitivity to others, if we can act with courage and choose humanity over inhumanity, it does not seem that it can affect the larger trajectory of history. But I believe it can.”

We can protest by knowing, and remembering, and recognizing the pattern in our own city, state, or country. We resist and act for change by giving our money, Cretin_Child_(1)supporting a candidate, casting a vote. Before we can do any of those things, though, we must look and listen to see what is right in front of us and name it for what it is, and then lift up our hearts and voices if need be. We may feel small in the face of events, we may feel nameless in the vast sweep of history, and we may feel overwhelmed by the enormity of the problems of our times. We can choose any number of options to contribute good to the world, but the one thing we cannot ever allow to take hold within ourselves is apathy. A paqo engages life with khuyay, passion. Passion does not have to be grandiose, only sincere. Every day we can make a difference if we cultivate our munay and share it. We can, as Wiesel says, echoing so many other wisdomkeepers throughout history, simply “touch one person every day with compassion.”

That advice might seem cliché, but if we feel that it is, it only shows us how jaded we have become. If we can’t be compassionate, helpful, and respectful to someone who is right in front of us, how can we feel compassion for, stand witness to, and act to alleviate the suffering of those whom we know only through a newspaper, television, or Internet story? Near or far, suffering is suffering. Injustice is injustice. Prejudice is prejudice. Evil is evil. We have to take the world as we find it, which means each of us must take ourselves as we find ourselves. The world is not “other”—each of us is the world. So we change ourselves first. We put into practice our ethics, our compassion, our listening, our voicing, even our mystical techniques. Then we seek out our ayllu—our community of compatriots—and together we witness and act.

 

Photo credits:
Elie Wiesel  World Economic Forum (www.weforum.org), http://www.swiss-image.ch/Photo by Sebastian Derungs
Bhutan, Child: By I, Tyabji, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2470746
Sebrencia Massacre Victim Skull: Photo by Adam Jones, adamjones.freeservers.com

 

 

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The Importance of Coherence

In my last few posts, I have been culling the scientific literature in support of the cosmology and practices of the Andean mystical tradition. I am returning to Dawson Church’s book Mind Into Matter in this post to talk about coherence.

When teaching the Andean mystical tradition, I stress that all of our practices help us become more energetically coherent. We are turning what are separate, and often chaotic, aspects of our energy, mind, and matter (human bodies) into a interconnected system. We are harmonizing our three human powers of yachay (knowledge), llank’ay (action) and munay (love). We are awakening, strengthening and perfecting our “magical” capacities, such as qaway, rimay, kanay, and atiy. As our poq’po increases in coherence, we can be in more effortless and efficient ayni, interacting with the living energies with greater power and grace.

But what exactly is coherence? How does science support the benefits of coherence?

Both the science of consciousness and Andean mysticism support the notion that intention (consciously directed mind) is foundational to what is created in the material world (in Andean terms, the Pachamama). Stressed and chaotic mind/intention equals stressed and chaotic life, and even a stressed and chaotic biology. In his book, Dawson Church states unequivocally, as do Andean paqos, that “energy directs matter.” He writes, “Energy fields are the templates around which matter condenses. Change the field and you change matter.”

But the effect of coherence goes beyond matter. Dawson says, as do I (based on my years of Andean practice), that “we can . . . choose the path of energy.” Echoing paqos, he declares: “As we free our attention from fascination with matter, we perceive the intelligence innate in energy. Shifting to the level of detached consciousness opens us to the infinite possibilities contained in the nonlocal field of infinite intelligence.” In the Andean tradition, we would call this field of intelligence “the field of living energy,” or the kawsay pacha. Once we habituate ourselves to living consciously connected to the kawsay pacha, we can, as Dawson says, “create entirely different lives than are possible when we remain bound by the limitations of material thinking.”

As paqos, we know that we are always in ayni (interacting with the kawsay pacha/nonlocal field of infinite intelligence), but what Dawson, other scientists, and the paqos tell us is that there is a huge difference between being in ayni and being in conscious ayni.

We are always in interchange with the kawsay pacha. However, most of us are oblivious to how we are making these energy exchanges. They are mostly unconscious. As a result, the chaos of our mental field (reactive emotions, unruly thought processes, lack of focus, diminished self-awareness, etc.) expresses itself outwardly in the condition of our health, our family and social life, our ability to know and express our gifts, and on and on. In Andean terms, we have a lot of hucha (heaviness, slowed life-force energy).

However, once we are in conscious ayni, then we can begin to bring coherence to our energy field (poq’po), which influences everything from the function of our physical bodies, to the emotional harmony we feel in our relationships, to the productive expression of our talents, to the power with which we can manifest desires (for a baby, a house, a car, more love, greater prosperity) into material reality. In Andean terms, we have more sami (lightness, life-force energy) than hucha.

In Andean terms, hucha is dissonance; sami is coherence.

Let’s now look at just what coherence is. For this, I turn to a scientist with whom I have spent time at conferences and whom I interviewed for an article: Rollin McCraty. McCraty is the head of research at the Institute of HeartMath, where some of the most ground-breaking research into coherence has been conducted, especially heart coherence. Coherence is a state of awareness, but it is mostly measured scientifically via its affects on the body: heart-rate variability, respiration, blood pressure and other physical parameters. When the mind/consciousness enters a more coherent state, the body follows. As McCraty writes in one research paper, “Coherence implies order, structure, harmony, and alignment within and amongst systems—whether in atoms, organisms, social groups, planets, or galaxies.” As he points out, coherence of mind and body means one has entered what other psychologists and human performance researchers call “flow,” the “zone,” “oneness.” When you are coherent, you are more connected with everything, including the field of infinite intelligence (kawsay pacha).

quick coherenceThis image from the Institute of HeartMath shows what just a few minutes of a coherence-inducing practice does to biological markers. The baseline measures start on the left and the shift to coherence that occurs after only a five minutes of undertaking a coherence-inducing technique is apparent in waves forms.

You can train yourself to be in greater conscious and biological coherence. HeartMath and others have developed practices, as have Andean paqos. We use saminchakuy as our basic practice to reduce hucha and increase sami, which is another way of saying to increase the coherence of our poq’po. But we have other, advanced practices, too. In Andean terms, when we do the work of increasing our coherence—of shifting from energetic dissonance to energetic harmony—we call this the process of undertaking a personal mast’ay—a restructuring or reorganization of the self.

As paqos, we know that when we are in greater coherence (have more sami, less hucha), we accumulate personal power, which is a way of saying our intent can more easily influence energy. We can be in a more powerful, effortless, and efficient ayni exchange with the kawsay pacha. Scientists agree, for as Dawson Church says, “In the scientific literature, the word for efficiency is coherence.”

If there is one word that describes Andean practices it is “efficient.” They are simple, elegant, and direct. There is no fluff, no ceremony, no fetishes (feather, crystal, drum, rattle, whatever) needed—not even your misha. Your misha is a symbol of your power, but itself has no magical power. Your power is your directed intention, Energy compressed buddha- Pixabay 562034_1920expressed from the field of a coherence energy body/poq’po.

Unknowingly echoing the basic tenet of Andean mysticism, Dawson says that coherence makes everything in life work better. There is no wasted effort or energy. He says, “In highly coherent states, our minds are able to create effects in the physical world that are astonishing.” And, “A coherent mind focuses the power of attention the way a laser focuses the power of light. People who achieve high levels of coherence are able to do extraordinary things. Remarkable research now shows that a coherent mind can literally bend the forces of the material universe.” In Andean parlance, when our poq’po (energy state) is coherent, the influence of our ayni can be astonishing.

 

The Magic of Intention

I was recently reading Dean Radin’s new book Real Magic: Ancient Wisdom, Modern mind-compressesd Pixabay 767584_1920Science, and a Guide to the Secret Power of the Universe. Aside from my interest in staying abreast of current research into human consciousness and my planning to teach a workshop in September 2019 on supercharging your intuition, I was struck by how this book confirms so much of our practice as paqos—especially that the “secret power of the universe” that Radin mentions in his subtitle is intention. The “beauty teaching” of the Andean mystical tradition is that energy must follow intention. All we need to interact with the universe of living energy is our intention. What we call ayni, Radin calls magic.

If you have taken the lloq’e training (the left side of the path), we call the practical application of our intention the “magical” aspect of the work. It’s magic to us because we are learning to take action in the world—to be in greater, more effective, and increasingly effortless ayni through our actions.

As paqos, our entire practice is based on learning to be in more perfect ayni. Ayni is the interchange of our intention with the conscious universe. The effortlessness and effectiveness with which we manifest anything through ayni—from something as abstract as joyful well-being to something as concrete as a new house—is proportional to our personal power. Our personal power is a state that arises from the coherence of our energy body (more sami, less hucha). In other words, the more sami-filled our poq’po, the more clarity we bring to our ayni and the more effective it is. With less hucha we are able to do more. This focus on llank’ay—doing—is also the magic that Radin talks about.

Using “magic” as his metaphor for “psi” (psychic) abilities, Radin writes: “The word magic comes from the Greek word magos, referring to a member of a learned  and priestly class, which in turn derives from the Old Persian word magush, meaning to “to be able” or “to have power.” That just about sums up what a paqo is and our goal of increasing our personal power (which is another way of saying perfecting our ayni).

But ours is not a practice of intense effort. It is pukllay, or playfulness. It is a playful, relaxed state of bringing consciousness to our three human powers: yachay (what and how we know), munay (what we feel, especially love under our will), and llank’ay (how we apply ourselves—and our consciousness—in the world). As we evolve our consciousness, and thus experience a greater state of energetic coherence, we discover that our power as co-creators increases—we enhance the effectiveness of our ayni. Our “magical action” left-side powers become charged.

This energetic coherence (less hucha, more sami) is similar to the state that Radin Yin Yang Celestialidentifies as optimal state for psi functioning. Radin writes that the most successful participants in psi experiments (in this case to influence random-number generators, but it applies to all “magical” intention) are those who feel “resonance” with the machines (feeling at one with it, softening of boundaries between the self and other) and who experience “effortless striving,” which is intense desire or focused concentration that is devoid of anxiety. This, to me, is a way of saying being in ayni.

In addition, as paqos we want to have such energetic coherence that we are open to all the “flavors” of energy. As my teacher Juan Nuñez del Prado says, we never want to put ourselves into an energetic jail, where we are afraid of energy. Energy, according to the Andean tradition, is amoral—beyond the moral overlay that we humans impose upon it. Radin confirms that view when he writes about the nature of elementary particles and the forces of nature. They are not subject to moral overlay. However, our use of our powers (the application of our intention) is dependent on our ethical and moral system: we make a choice how to use it and to what ends. We can be paqos who work for the well-being and benefit of ourselves and others, or we can be layqas who are only interested in satisfying our own desires, often at the expense of others. Radin’s view mirrors our own as paqos. He writes: “[T]he way magic is used is completely up to the magician. The power itself, like any fundamental force of the universe, is morally neutral.”

While Radin believes that an altered state of consciousness—a deep meditative state, a hypnotic-like state, or an emotionally charged state—enhances psi abilities, we asAtom paqos learn to be in effective ayni in a normal state of consciousness. Still, the mechanisms that Radin sees in play are just like ayni—there is a two-way interchange: you project outward your intention to influence the energy of the universe, and the living energy of the universe reaches back to you and responds. While the laboratory effects of psi abilities are quite small, they are statistically significant to an irrefutable degree.

According to Radin’s and others’ experiments, this intentional interchange—what we call ayni—can be applied in almost unlimited ways, from “intending” that your food be supercharged for your health, to sending healing energy to another person across time and space, to drawing toward you the object of your desires, such as a new house. As already mentioned, Radin says that those who are in conscious coherence (such a long-time meditators) have better results than the average person. For us as paqos, this laboratory result leads us back to our basic practice of saminchakuy—reducing your hucha and increasing your sami. Saminchakuy increases what we could call the coherence of your energy body, which in turns helps you evolve your consciousness.

So, if you need a nudge of motivation to keep working the basic techniques of the Andean tradition, you have it—from science. Radin’s experiments have led him to the same place paqos, and other mystics, have discovered: that, as Radin says, “the secret power of the universe is not made out of matter and energy and physical stuff, but is probably made out of consciousness. . .”

 

(For information about the Intuition Intensive Workshop in North Carolina in September 2019, please visit the web page http://www.cfcchange.com. This is the first offering of my new endeavor, The Center for Conscious Change. I will be teaching with my friend and fellow intuitive-medium Randi Eaton. We plan to offer this workshop in Northern California over the weekend of October 11-13, 2019. Information should be on our page http://www.cfcchange.com within two weeks or so.)

A Paqo Builds the Universe

When teaching the Andean mystical tradition, I often say we each are the center of the universe, because we perceive only through our own body, mind, and consciousness. We are each, in reality and at the core, a mystery to each other, and we can’t truly know how others perceive the world.

Yet, according to the Andean tradition, we each share in creating the cosmos. The cosmos is the Pachamama. She is much more than the planet Earth, who has her own name, Mama Allpa. The Pachamama is the mother of space-time, the mother of the entire material cosmos.

In a sense, we, too, are Pachamama or Pachapapa—mother and father creators of the world. We don’t control the universe, but we certainly influence its unfolding evolution, manifestation, and condition. Our primary tool is our consciousness—our attention and intention. According to Andean mysticism, energy must follow intention. Intention is a byproduct of consciousness, and so as conscious creatures where we place our attention and how we direct our intention are always creative acts and, to one degree or another, impactful ones. We are in some real sense building the universe with each attentional and intentional act. Since my attention and intention are only one small combined flow of the energy of the more than seven billion human flows of attention and intention, it remains to be seen how much influence I have—or you have. But we remain resolute, we persist, and we seek to contribute.

All of this musing was prompted by reading one of my favorite poets, the late Mary Oliver. In one of her poems, “Song of the Builders,” she writes about placing her attention on a cricket, and then she soars on the updraft of a visionary imagination cricket-compressed cropped Pixabay 1287428_1920to declare the primacy of intentions, from the most humble to the most glorious.

In this post there will be no explication, no long-winded teasing out of meaning and application. This Mary Oliver poem speaks for itself, and, I hope, inspires you to see your Andean practices in both their humble and glorious aspects. Ask yourself, as a human being and as a paqo, “What am I helping to build in my life, in my community, in my county, in the world, in the cosmos?”

One a summer morning
I sat down
on a hillside
to think about God—

a worthy pastime.
Near me, I saw
a single cricket;
it was moving the grains of the hillside

this way and that way.
How great was its energy,
how humble its effort.
Let us hope

it will always be like this,
each of us going on
in our inexplicable ways
building the universe.

 

 

Facing Adversity as a Paqo

Our dramas are an indestructible part of who we are. No matter what we do or how hard we try, we cannot get rid of them. The only choice we have to make is whether we are going to use them or they are going to use us.
—Debbie Ford, The Secret of the Shadow

If you view the spiritual realms through rose-colored glasses, then a life still plagued with disappointments, difficulties and challenges must mean you are doing something wrong. You are not deserving enough, evolved enough, energetically coherent enough, or sufficiently clear enough in your intention to create a life of love, passion, fulfillment, joy, abundance, or whatever a “perfected” life looks like to you.

Well, no, not really. . .

As a paqo, you certainly know that the kawsay pacha is overly abundant and you can manifest what you want according to your capacity for personal power and the clarity of your ayni exchanges. But like all of us, you are still human—and not a sixth-level human yet. As a third- or fourth-level human being, you are far from perfected. As a paqo, you have energy practices to reduce your heaviness—including emotional dramas and life’s challenges—to a minimum, but you still have them. As a qawaq, you can use your physical and mystical vision and perceptions to learn to see reality as it really is, and that means owning the disappointments, difficulties, strife, and even traumas that you experience. After all, if you don’t see them, you can’t put your practices to work to shift them (or rather, to shift your own energy).

Being a dedicated paqo means using what you know. Once you “see” (qaway), then you can understand (yachay) and act (llank’ay). You can do saminchakuy, saiwachakuy, hucha miqhuy, call on the assistance of a helper spirit, and use many other practices to improve your inner and outer reality. But “seeing” is the foundation stone upon which all your practices rest.

What is there to “see” about the difficulties in your life? Certainly not personal failure. Rather, personal opportunity.

Debbie Ford, in her book The Secret of the Shadow, likens each of us to a recipe. Youcupcakes compressed Pixabay -3723832_1920 have different ingredients—traits and life experiences—in your recipe than I do. My ingredients are perfect for me, as yours are for you. From a spiritual viewpoint, each and every ingredient is necessary to your living your life mission and fulfilling your promise in this life. Therefore, if you can see everything as necessary to your being who you really are and growing to the fullness of being, then you will reject nothing. You will shift your perspective and embrace life’s challenges (inner and outer) as opportunities to more deeply understand yourself and evolve your consciousness.

Author and human potential guru Napoleon Hill concurs with Ford. He wrote, “Every adversity, every failure, every heartache carries with it the seed of an equal or greater benefit.” Finding the benefit is what escapes most people. They just can’t see what good can come from pain or trauma. But from a spiritual perspective, there is always a compensatory benefit or gift.

In your work as a paqo, what Ford and Hill are talking about is the energy dynamic of yanantin. Yanantin energies are dissimilar energies. Good-bad, male-female, friend-enemy, boss-employee, conservative-liberal, and so on. While many people see only opposition, as a paqo you learn to see complementarity. Yanantin does not mean “either-or” but “both-and.” By examining the yanantin energy of your difficulties and challenges (admittedly, this often is easier from hindsight), you can follow Ford’s and Hill’s advice to see the drama or trauma for what it is—something hurtful or challenging or painful—but also to seek the compensatory gifts—the hidden opportunities—in the difficulty. Let’s look at a few examples.

As a young boy, your father drilled into you that boys can’t be sissies. You had to be Emotions compressed AdobeStock_48004376tough, take your lumps like a man, not back down from a challenge, always push ahead. As a result, you learned to be bold, outgoing, even a risk taker. The yanantin dynamic may play out in myriad ways. We’ll look at one possibility. The downside is that your father’s programming may have caused you to incorporate untrue, unrealistic, and unhealthy beliefs about manliness into your unconscious that hamper your emotional growth and take a lot of self-work to transform. The compensatory gift is that as an extrovert and a risk taker, when you chose sales as a profession, you persisted, met every challenge, and used your competitive edge to be among the top salespeople in your company. In this context, your emotional trauma as a child translated into professional gifts as an adult.

Here’s another example. You are a busy, passionate person involved in all kinds of activities, from family to volunteering. You are outward directed and don’t want to waste a moment. Then you come down with an autoimmune disease and are in pain, can no longer work, and must rely on others in a way you never did before. One aspect of the yanantin energy is that you suddenly lose your health and even your sense of a vibrant, independent self. Life as you knew it (and your sense of self as you knew it) is over. The other aspects of the yanantin are the compensatory gifts that your new situation bestows: You pay more attention to your body and to what you eat and how you move; you learn to be humble and not only to give but to receive; your capacity for empathy for others deepens; and you learn to be still and go inward, to appreciate the small, quiet moments.

As is true for each of us, you create hucha for yourself when you see only one side ofopposites compressed -thumb up and down Pixabay 489521_1920 the yanantin energy dynamic—usually the loss, pain, failure, hurt, etc. Your challenge, as is true for most of us, is to enlarge your vision and understanding to see that a yanantin always involves twoness: the bad and the good, the loss and the gain, the “punishment” and the “reward.” If you can work both sides of the yanantin, you can reach a place of wholeness. This harmonization of yanantin energy is called a japu, wherein no hucha is created.

By working the whole yanantin, you can even be the generator of your own transformation. You can move closer to achieving not only a restoration of harmony, but also of wholeness—no matter what is happening. Without that bullying father, you may have never developed your gift of perseverance and persistence. Without that disease, you might never have learned greater empathy and humility, appreciation for simplicity and inner stillness. In the yanantin dynamic, if you can achieve japu, you are holding a scale of justice, with the two scales equally balanced.

Do you have to learn your lessons and gather your gifts through strife or sickness? No. But, seeing things as they actually are, as a human being you are not yet a perfected being and none of us is living in a perfected world. At the level of your eternal spirit, you are a perfected, divine being. But in this third-dimensional, material world in the body of flesh and blood, you are an imperfect human being. The core spiritual yanantin of the sixth level or seventh level of consciousness is: god in the human, human as god. However, here in the Pachamama—in the material Celebrating you compressed AdobeStock_73874996realm—we must deal with the level of consciousness we are actually at, which is third or fourth level.

But we don’t have to be victims. We can be victors! Whatever feelings and experiences you need in your “recipe” will come to you in a way that allows you—if you choose—to continue developing toward the completeness and wholeness that is encoded in your Inka Seed. As Ford writes, when you understand each “painful event as the perfect ingredient to make your recipe complete, you will witness the magic of transformation. You will bless what you formerly saw as a curse. You will watch as the horrid becomes holy.”