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Her world lured Samuel to leave society—the selfish, material world where money rules. A world where happiness is more about wealth, what you own, and power in the form of stardom.
I bow my head and concentrate on letting go of my ego, superiority, privileged upbringing, and just be in the moment.
Who am I to say one way of living is more prestigious than the other, especially for happiness and our purpose?
I glance at Samuel and see him for who he really is. Not my lover or the father of my baby, but the doctor. The man who heals and cares for other humans. The man who has given up everything I know to be important in our world to live here in what I initially thought was a substandard way. Only now, I know the Ularan way is far more superior.
The Ularans understand life, live with nature, and protect the earth only taking what they need without destroying their surroundings. They have a social set of rules like we do, only it’s obeyed, knowing it brings happiness and harmony within the community. They are peaceful, spiritual beings in tune with the universe and who wouldn’t hurt a soul. Well, unless the Watache kidnapped someone, but even then, they didn’t want to harm anyone. A peaceful resolution was their first approach.
The Watache.
I’m scarred by those memories. Yet when I think back on those moments, they acted out by what they knew, and now I question if their shaman would’ve hurt me. After hearing about their village being burned to the ground by Caucasian men, no wonder they were afraid and reacted the way they did.
If I weren’t pregnant or a privileged white girl, my body may have coped better with their food. The Watache shaman gave me food and water and treated me similarly to everyone else. I just wasn’t used to sleeping on dirt, eating raw meat, or pooping right in front of everyone. Their ways are different from mine, but does that make them wrong or of less importance?
We all do what we need to survive in this world.
We’re given one chance at life, and we have to make the most of it.
I came to South America hoping to find myself, and although I did, I also found Samuel. Could the shaman, or even Gran, have influenced destiny?
It’s something we’ll never know.
Only now, I’m questioning whether I have the right to pressure Samuel into making a choice—whether the baby and I should have priority over his life here. My ego says it’s the right thing for him to do—be a responsible father and be with us.
Here in the waipa, my ego is silenced even without taking ayahuasca. We’re two people compared to a village. He was happy and content before he met me. He has tried to explain—without falling apart—why he preferred to be here. I understand we all have secrets locked away in the back of our mind to stop the memories from crushing our souls.
Maybe it’s this life. The sense of purpose. The happiness of life and nature and living in harmony with the earth. Maybe my world truly scares Samuel. He has tried to explain how unhappy he is in our society, and I assumed by being with me, all would be okay.
Shit.
Who the hell do I think I am?
“Eden, you don’t have to be here,” Samuel says softly and places a hand on my knee.
What?
Are they mind readers?
Realizing he’s referring to the ceremony, I straighten my shoulders and bow my head. “Sorry. I’ll focus now. It’s just baby brain.” Or is it a spiritual power here, surrounding us in the waipa, questioning my motivation?
He offers a slight smile before bowing his head once more, and we’re both charmed by the shaman’s prayers.
Samuel takes the tea from Kaikare and swallows the entire cup in one go. He wipes his mouth and bows his head.
He didn’t flinch.
Ugh, I remember the vile taste. Earthy and bitter.
Kaikare hands another bowl to her father, then to Samuel. The shaman bows his head, raises the bowl high, and continues with the chant before swallowing the tea. Neither Samuel nor the shaman shudder or react.
Wow.
Many bowls later, the shaman holds up his hand to Kaikare.
Joining our circle, she lowers to her knees and bows her head. Her eyes now closed, the shaman continues to sing. He sways gently side to side, chanting the same syllables over and over.
What I’d give to know what he’s visualizing.
