Some days passed in Cusco. La ciudad Puma. The heart of the Inca empire, Cusco is shaped like a Puma. The plaza, located at the great puma’s heart, is constantly beating. Pumping life forces, coherent and disjunct. Honking of car horns, tubas and trumpets, bark-bark, BANG. Each morning, the sounds of shots fired burst my being from dream-space to place of regimented performance. On Thursday, it was a Catholic celebration, the day of Corpus Christi. The day before it was a colegio band precession. On Saturday, a military parade. The experience of rest is a privilege that need be rivaled by the insistent movements of la puma. As I willingly stay horizontal, slightly opening the ears and re-wiring the mind to attempt to understand the voices projected throughout the plaza, I wonder, who is this for? I wish curiosity could replace one of the 5 medications I was given to de-enflame my intestines (damaged 5 days ago by our last meal in Lima: langostinas + cerveza = XXXX), I wish curiosity could invigorate a sleepy morning with the energy to go out and witness, become a part. I guess its not that urgent. After snooze, I went to the roof with my yoga mat, the message then received more directly, like a voice of the gods raining down from above. Is this war? Breathing, extending, flowing, coming serenely into myself. Am I involved in this war? The processions of militant bodies, bearing weaponry and national pride, is but a spectacle today. A play, a re-creation, a remembrance. It could turn real, as it once was. So much history in humanity. I am here to learn; I hope my learning can keep us safe.
