Last Updated on June 24, 2026 by Ishilta
Also published in thedailyaah.substack.com
I had a bad day yesterday. At least the first half of it.
First, there was an unscheduled power outage starting at 7 AM, and I couldn’t do much of the work I needed to do. My gadgets were running out of battery quickly, so I practically had to stop using them to conserve power. I started to worry about whether I could finish my preparations for an upcoming group healing session in time. For someone who regards his work as sacred, this felt like a huge disaster.
Second, one of my rescued cats had been missing for more than 24 hours. Although she occasionally disappears for more than a day, I was still deeply worried, like any fur parent would be. I started imagining all the worst possible scenarios that could explain why she wasn’t home yet.
Third, I had been feeling uneasy and uninspired for a few days now. The setbacks only added to my already troubled state of mind. Being uninspired is practically the antithesis of my existence because much of the work I do and what drives me in life is the inspiration to create something new.
And it all had to happen on a hot, dry, cloudless day. The kind of day that seems to amplify every frustration and leave you feeling unusually irritable.
It was almost noon, and we were feeding the cats and dogs. One of our dogs needed supervision while eating because the neighborhood chickens often tried to steal her food. Since I had nothing else to do, I volunteered to watch over her while she enjoyed her meal.
I was standing on the grass outside when my attention was suddenly drawn to the bare earth beneath my feet. There’s something magical about walking on natural earth rather than concrete pavement. Then, without warning, I found myself humming a certain tune.
It started softly, then grew louder and louder. Eventually, the hum became a song. I don’t know what took over me, but it felt as though a melody wanted to emerge through me, and I was merely its mouthpiece. It became almost like a prayer, but without recognizable words. This is perhaps what my voice doula friend, Yeyette San Luis, calls Spirit Singing. It reminded me of the Spirit Singing workshop I attended with her many years ago.
I don’t know why I was singing, or what I was singing, but I kept directing the song toward the ground. Then, all at once, I felt tendrils of awareness rise from the earth below and slowly wrap themselves around my body. I knew it was Pachamama, another name for the Earth Mother.
I began to sob.
Tears streamed down my face, and I couldn’t fully understand what was happening. The closest comparison I can make is the feeling of finally being seen and held, perhaps for the very first time. I felt embraced by a love so immense and so real that its source didn’t need to be visible.
Then a flood of images flashed through my mind. It was as if Pachamama was communicating with me through moving pictures. It was like watching a 30-second Instagram reel compressed into just a few seconds.
I saw a vast underground fungal network stretching across the planet and connecting everything, something science has only recently begun to understand. I saw life moving through plants, trees, and countless living beings, all participating in a vast intelligence that knows how to heal itself. I was also shown that humans are merely passengers on this planet, just like the countless species that came before us and are now extinct.
I also sensed that Pachamama participates in the unfolding of certain events in our lives. Perhaps she is behind those moments we describe as being in the right place at the right time, quietly weaving encounters and circumstances whose meaning becomes clear only later. The forces of nature can transform a life in an instant, reminding us how deeply our destinies are intertwined with the living Earth. In many ways, it feels as though Pachamama herself is woven into the fabric of our destiny.
This revelation unfolded in only a few minutes. Yet, it completely shattered my anthropocentric view of reality. I started to wonder why humans fight over land and resources when we really don’t own anything. It made me question how we position ourselves as mighty saviours of Mother Earth when, in fact, we are more accurately described as tenants who can be evicted at any time.
A few moments later, I found myself back in my center. Everything felt right again.
It was in that moment that I understood something about why shamans sing power songs and why, historically, the first peoples prayed to the Earth long before the arrival of the sky gods. It affirmed my belief that the Earth is a living, sentient being, carrying within her the wisdom of 4.5 billion years.
And as if that weren’t enough, clouds appeared out of nowhere. Thunder rolled across the sky, followed by flashes of lightning. The air grew cooler, carrying the promise of rain. It felt as though nature itself was making its presence known.
I am not a shaman by traditional standards, but I was fortunate enough to receive the teachings and initiations of the Munay-Ki many moons ago. In this tradition, which originates in the mountains and jungles of Peru, there are medicine people known as the pampamesayok, or daykeepers, who are said to communicate with Pachamama. There are also the altomesayok, or wisdomkeepers, who are renowned for their ability to summon lightning. Perhaps the seeds of those teachings and initiations have finally ripened after many, many years of dormancy.
After witnessing these marvels, I returned to my room only to discover that the electricity had just come back on. Shortly afterward, I heard a cat meowing outside my door. When I opened it, my missing cat was there, asking for food. And perhaps most importantly, my inspiration had returned. I was able to complete a huge amount of work that I hadn’t been able to bring myself to finish for days.
This experience affirmed something I have always known about Pachamama. It is one thing to read about her in a book and another thing entirely to feel her presence firsthand. Since then, my rituals and ceremonies have carried a deeper meaning. More than ever, I feel that Pachamama is not merely a symbol or an idea. She is listening.
If you could speak to Pachamama, what would you tell her?
Interested in exploring Spirit Singing?
The spontaneous song that emerged during this experience reminded me of the Spirit Singing workshop I attended with Yeyette San Luis many years ago. If you feel called to explore your own voice as a pathway to healing, intuition, and connection, you can learn more about her upcoming workshop here: https://tinyurl.com/spiritsinging
