Magnificent Machu Picchu
and the Ring of Fire

by Kathy Doore

As the buses approached the Sanctuary, my Quechua friend, Jaime, grimaced. He wanted to know what I thought of the massive amount of tourists who visited Machu Picchu every year. Without waiting for my answer, he exclaimed that he (and apparently others), believed that the visitors had stolen all the energy.

"It’s gone! There's nothing left. Everything has changed," he exclaimed, shaking his head. "Everything has changed!"

It was true, things had changed, the atmosphere had been transformed. But it was not due to the tourists as Jaime believed, it was something else, something strangely familiar.

In the fall of l997, massive forest fires ignited the old mountain, leaping from peak to peak encircling the city in a virtual ring of fire. As the flames licked the Incan walls and terraces that spanned the city, the inferno threatened to consume the very sanctuary itself. The little village at the base of the citadel was all but evacuated, save for a handful of locals who remained in a vigilance of prayer.

On the fifth day when all seemed utterly hopeless, a sudden and inexplicable gathering of storm clouds formed directly over the citadel. For the next two hours it rained unabated. Slowly the sky parted to reveal a heavy blanket of thick, black smoke. As the air cleared it became gloriously apparent that the city had been spared. The villagers rejoiced with sacred offerings of gratitude to the Mountain Spirits (Apu), and to the Earth Mother (Pachamama).

I peered at Jaime, shaking my head. "You are right, my friend, something has changed but it is not the result of tourists taking all the energy. That deep guttural resonance we once felt is no more. Sit quietly for a moment. Can you feel this incredible lightness? It’s something like a whisper. The energy is still here. Can you feel it?"

As I spoke these words, I realized the enormity of the metamorphosis-- we'd been blessed with a new opportunity and like the mythical Phoenix, Machu Picchu had risen above the ashes, transmuting her lower astral residue. The slate had been washed clean. We now have a rare opportunity to gather together our hopes and dreams, and with loving conviction and respect for the Pachamama, anchor this exquisite dream for humanity. Jaime smiled, waving at a passing tourist. He too had also felt this incredible lightness of being.

In the weeks that followed, I continued to work with the energetic signature of the Sanctuary, eventually making my way to the Sacred Valley of the Incas and the two labyrinths I'd constructed for the Incaland Resort. A divine appointment waited as I and four sisters of spirit united on an outing to the high-frequency salt pools of Maras. They must have been midwives, for this is where our yearly sojourn's were birthed.




The Sacred Valley of the Incas


Lost City of the Incas


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Kathy Doore is the author of the award-winning travel book
Markawasi: Peru's Inexplicable Stone Forest.

© Kathy Doore; Labyrinthina.com 1998 - 2010 all text & images