Don Esteban had me stand naked in the center of the room

Don Esteban had me stand naked in the center of the room I told him that my father had died two months earlier. "That is why there is sadness and disequilibrium," he said. "This ceremony, and spending time in the mountains with Pachamama" -- Mother Earth -- "will help make your spirit whole."

Don Esteban had me stand naked in the center of the room. Beating a drum and chanting around me, he summoned the ancestral spirits before instructing me to face the four directions of nearby volcanoes in turn, with arms raised, as he blew tobacco smoke on my skin and slapped me with nettle leaves. Then, with his cheeks engorged with alcohol, he held a candle flame to his lips and unleashed spectacular balls of fire that dissipated across my chest.

I looked on these ministrations with skepticism but was left feeling serene, and believing that my visit there had been serendipitous. Whether by intuition or sheer speculation Don Esteban had recognized my grief, and made it a central theme for the journey forward.