Two months held by the mountains of the Sacred Valley of Peru.

How I arrived in Peru was a strange story to begin with.

I was in India, touring Jaipur, when our driver took us through the artisan district. One of the stops was a crystal shop — the kind you wander into without expectation. Somehow, that brief visit turned into a full-blown conversation with a psychic. Among many things she shared, she told me, very casually, that I would be going to Peru.

I thought nothing of it.

And then, on September 1st of last year, I walked up to my computer and booked a ticket.

I had no plan. No clear reason. Just a deep, unmistakable calling — a pull to work with plant medicine again. I had been through one of the most challenging years I’ve known — a true year of the snake, shedding skin after skin, confronting loss, disillusionment, and deep fatigue. I needed to heal some things. I needed to find my fire again.

So off I went.

What unfolded became one of the most beautiful solo journeys of my life.

I began in Lima, as one does, and quickly traveled onward to Cusco. A friend I had met years earlier in Bali was living in a house nestled high in the Sacred Mountains and invited me to visit. She told me she was close to a small town called Pisac.

Little did I know that Pisac would become my hub — the place I would move in and out of for over a month.

The house itself became a sanctuary. I ended up house-sitting the home — and the dog — for weeks. It was a place to retreat, integrate, and soften. A place to land.

And Pisac… Pisac had its own magic.

A hippie mecca where musicians, artists, healers, and seekers all converge. Wellness events happening daily. Plant medicines offered openly, woven into daily life rather than hidden away. A town where ceremony and life blur together, naturally.

It was there that I went deep.

Over those two months, I sat in four Ayahuasca ceremonies. I reconnected with an old friend — mushrooms — and gently, consciously, dabbled in the purest form of MDMA. Each experience held its own intelligence, its own medicine. None were taken lightly. All were approached with intention, humility, and a sincere desire to heal.

I was peeling back layers — grief, exhaustion, self-doubt — and listening closely to what wanted to be restored. Bit by bit, my fire returned. My clarity sharpened. My devotion softened into something steadier, truer.

Those two months became a portal.

Four profound ceremonies, countless moments of integration, and a deep remembering of why I walk this path at all. Peru didn’t just meet me — it remembered me.

And in those mountains, held by ancient land and quiet devotion, I reclaimed parts of myself I thought I had lost — stronger, wiser, and more alive than before.