The night births the day, and every dawn is an Intiq Killa, a sacred moment of reckoning. It is the space where I meet myself, where I gaze into the mirror of Yachay, wisdom, and Munay, unconditional love, and ask: Who am I, truly?
Having just walked through the fire of a five-day retreat with Pachamama's Sacred medicines, what we've seen, what I’ve felt, has given the meaning for these times and the purpose for these world events...
The world is trembling, and I feel it within the collective. We are at the edge of a precipice, a Pachakuti, a great turning of time.
This is the question we face: Will I recognize myself? Will I recognize my kin? Will I claim my truth? Or will I allow fear, illusion, and comfort to dictate the path?
The days are rolling in like thunder, and they are relentless in their lessons. The time of waiting is over. Pachamama herself is shifting, and we are being called to see—not just as isolated beings but as a great Ayllu, a living web of consciousness. The authority we once gave away, to the voices of doubt, to the structures of fear, is returning to us. This is the time to reclaim what was seeded in our Kawsay, our living energy, since the beginning.
The Divine within me has arrived.
I feel it, I see it. It is not something outside of me—it is our own Nawi, our inner vision, opening. It is the whisper in the wind, the surge in my heart, the knowing that my feet are exactly where they need to be. Each one of us is a flame in the great fire of awakening. Some are awakened gently, like the kiss of a father’s Qhawaq or gaze. Others are shaken, thrown into the churning river of transformation. But no one—no one—will sleep through what is coming.
This is not about time as we have known it. Ñawpa, the past, and Mincha, the future, are weaving into the present, folding into the now. What I sense, what I feel in the deepest fibers of my being, is a passage—a moment of reckoning where all that is false, all that is built on fear, begins to collapse. And you must choose: Do I resist? Or do I surrender?
Many of us have lived by the illusion of control. "When the time is right, you will decide who you are: I will choose when I step into my power." But time is an illusion. And waiting? Waiting is a game the small self plays to delay the inevitable.
What happens when the table is overturned? When there is no more cream for the coffee, no more comfort of choice? What happens when all that is left is the truth staring me in the face, demanding to be met at the level of consciousness I have cultivated?
This is where the shift happens.
I am no longer playing by the rules of the old world. That world is crumbling under the weight of its own illusion. The question now is: Do you have the courage to stand in your truth, to claim the power that pulses through your veins?
I see it now—I see the great mirror before me. Ayni, sacred reciprocity, reflecting back every choice, every fear, every moment I compromised myself for safety. And I understand: What I am not is just as important as what I am.
Mama Unu, the great waters, are rising. The fire is burning away the old. The earth is trembling, shaking loose the buried truths. This is not destruction—it is revelation. Look at what is being uncovered: the lies, the secrets, the buried bones of a world built on illusion.
I stand here, not as a victim of this storm, but as its witness, as its Paqo, its priest bridge. This is the work of Sami, of refining the energy, of letting go of the heavy Hucha that has kept me bound. This is not restoration—it is realization.
The days of half-measures are gone. The time of saying, “I will work on this one little thing” is over. The wave of change is here, and I can either ride it or be crushed beneath it.
But I choose to ride.
5 days is all it took. The Qhapaq Ñan showed me, stripped me, unveiled me. And I saw—once more- who I truly am. I know who I am in truth. I know what I am in truth. I know how I serve in truth. And because of this knowing, I am not afraid of what comes. Noccan Kani Anya
Let the fires burn. Let the storms rage.
Do not cling to the old. Give thanks for all it taught YOU, and Release it with gratitude. I do not resist the breaking—I welcome it. Because I know, deep in my Hatun Sonqo, my heart, that this is grace. This is love. MUNAY
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