Lucy Jackson

I spent Aymara New Year (June 21) at Tiwanaku, waiting to catch the first rays of sunrise light with open raised palms and a half baked intuition mantra. It was a cloudy morning, and the sun struggled to peek through the dense clouds. Drones whirred overhead, live streaming the offering ceremony for Pachamama from Yatiris and Amawtas (the healers and philosophers of the Aymara people) and Louis Arce, Bolivia’s president, visible on two projectors at the front of the crowd. It was 34 degrees Fahrenheit and I was huddled next to a Bolivian couple from Cochabamba who I met on the tour bus; they got picked up on the side of the road after missing the bus’s initial departure at 3:30am from La Paz and took a taxi to meet us along the way. 

The couple hadn’t been to Tiwanaku for Wilkakuti (Aymara New Year) before either, though the wife mentioned her maternal family is Chiwanka, an Aymara community located south on the Altiplano. Tiwanaku was home to the Tiwanakus, a pre-Incan civilization and the first Aymara speaking group. The site now holds some of the largest ruins in South America and the biggest Aymara New Year celebration. The couple excitedly raised their hands to catch the sun in anticipation; I copied them.

Together we snaked through the crowd to get to the front, their adventurous follow your own path attitude made them fun companions. After circle dances that our guide jovially pulled us into in front of a live band, I broke off with the couple again to get a closer look at the fire we had seen on the big screens. This was the first time when my “deseo” started to stress me out, as I opted to frantically take a photograph of the fire when pushed to the front, rather than astutely saying my mantra like I told myself I should. I said it when I was further back in the crowd. 

More of these moments followed; our guide cued manifestation at different points in our tour and all of the wish asking came to a crescendo with the fiery “mesa” offering our tour group prepared with sweets, a naturally aborted llama fetus, and 98 proof alcohol we took turns adding to the fire causing gusts and bursts of flames. The sweet I chose was for “negocios, trabajo, amor” (money, work, love) which felt a lot more simple and straightforward than the manifestation gymnastics I had been putting myself through, though maybe not exactly what I was after.

My manifestation angst is nothing new, though definitely heighten by Bolivian wish oriented ceremonies. As a little one, I internalized the lessons in my bed time stories about chocolate factory and genie wishes going array, leading to the demise of greedy children. I didn’t want to fall into the traps of the universe and short sighted bliss. My dad hammered home the lovely cynical reminder: “if something seems too good to be true, it probably is.” Nevertheless, I was a fiend for a clear 11:11 wish in middle school and high school, repeating “I wish to graduate from Yale University and become a billionaire at the young age of 25” every time I caught the clock. I feared getting struck down before graduating (and wanted to go to Yale more than anything) and thought money was a safe bet; not that I had any interest or idea how I would get it. I am approaching that *young age* in August and living on about $700 a month without concrete next steps. My simplistic self analysis for the change: I got to Harvard and had the space (and wanted to) figure out what I actually cared about; the money mantra revealed itself as filler (while Yale dreams remained), and I found that travel, food, interdisciplinary research, and photography were where I felt most aligned and inspired. 

I’m as far along as I could imagine myself while growing up, and my current set up is unlike anything I could have concocted a spell for, though I think I would be excited and relieved to see this future. However, not having a sure wish in Bolivia, a place anchored in spiritual reciprocity and connection, is rather unsettling. 

I decided to get my coca leaves read the Monday after New Years with the hopes of getting back to my mantra setting roots. I had previously met the Yatiri (who I asked to read my leaves) in Copacabana when I was having neck and back pain. She completely realigned my spine leaving me light as a feather just before I left for Isla de La Luna, making the chance meeting feel like anything but. 

During the coca reading, it was clear to her and quickly became clear to me too–destiny was stressing me out. This of course presented a problem and sadly not an externally crackable problem because (as she told me) you can’t undo that tangle with more wishes or questions about where to go or what to feel. I spent the day before our session worried about what she might see in my future and jumbled up about what I even wanted to know, hoping the leaves would reveal themselves without my direction. That’s not how it works, she explained, though I did get some side quest guidance and flickers of intuition during our session. So I guess I am now on the prequest quest, working to fix my intuition and letting destiny reveal itself along the way.