THE VISION

When we were with mi Abuela (my Huichol Grandmother), she would often be lost in contemplation, listening to something inaudible to the rest of us. When we arrived at Crashing Clouds, the first stop on our pilgrimage to Wiricuta, the high desert in central Mexico, mi Abuela laughed and cried with joy. I think that she was greeting the dearly beloved Gods and Goddesses of that site, whom she had not seen for a year. Her face literally glows from within.

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