Walking the Spine of Remembrance Part 2 — The Wounded Land (Pucallpa)

When I first arrived in Pucallpa, it struck me that this area had not long ago been thick rainforest. Satellite images from as recently as the mid-1980s show dense green canopy where today there is mostly cleared land. What now stretches across the region is a dense urban sprawl, with pockets of planning surrounded by informal settlements and red-clay roads that wind through what was once the Amazon’s edge. The air was heavy with heat and humidity, alive with both resilience and strain. It was hard to imagine that this land, not long ago, had been part of the vast, pulsing heart of the rainforest.

And yet, within that wounded landscape, something sacred was being reborn.

The Pure Art community was like an oasis — a living expression of compassion, collaboration, and hope. I felt deeply moved by the people who had dedicated their lives to serving there, creating homes, supporting education, health and sustainability, and opportunity where the soil itself had been stripped of abundance. It was inspiring to witness how much could be built, not from wealth or resources, but from love and shared purpose.

Each day brought a mix of gratitude and ache. I could see the stark connection between the deforestation and the poverty, how the loss of the land’s vitality mirrored the struggle of the people. The Earth and her children, both yearning to breathe again.

On the final day, as we handed the new home to the mother and her children, my heart broke open. The family’s joy was pure, radiant, alive with the promise of safety and belonging. Tears welled up as I looked around at the red dust, the simple wooden walls, the faces lit by sunlight and hope. But then the tears kept coming, until I could no longer tell whose they were.

They were not just mine. They were the land’s. The people’s. The ancestors’.

It felt as though I was weeping for all that had been lost — the forests, the harmony, the remembering of how to live with the Earth instead of against her. And somehow, I knew that my tears were not sorrow alone. They were medicine, a small act of transmutation, releasing grief into prayer, density into light.

In that moment and in the days that followed, I could see beyond the dust. I saw a vision unfold, perhaps one hundred or more years into the future, where this very land was once again vibrant and green. The Amazon had returned. The people lived in partnership with nature, their homes woven into the forest like the pulse of a living organism. It reminded me of what I experience here in the Rockies — a better (albeit not perfect) balance between human life and wild beauty. I saw that this is possible, that we can rebuild, reforest, and remember.

I left Pucallpa changed. Humbled. Grateful. Awakened to a deeper truth of service. What I thought was a humanitarian project revealed itself to be a pilgrimage of atonement, a healing between humanity and the Earth, one small gesture at a time.

Spirit showed me that this is part of my purpose now: to heal through my voice, through my hands, through my presence. To bridge what has been divided. To remind others that every act of love — every home built, every tear shed, every truth spoken — is part of the great healing of this planet.

As we flew from the Amazon basin toward the Sacred Valley, I could feel the energy shift. The dense, humid air gave way to clarity and altitude. Something within me lifted, too. I began to sense the great spine of the Americas, the Cordillera, awakening beneath me. North and South, Earth and Sky, each calling to the other in a rhythm of remembrance.

The journey was changing me. And the next initiation was already waiting.

This reflection is part of my five-part series, Walking the Spine of Remembrance, a pilgrimage from the Amazon to the Andes, and then to the Rockies.

If this story resonates, stay tuned for Part 3: The Sacred Valley, coming next.

If You Feel the Call to Go Deeper

If this reflection touched something within you, I invite you to explore the deeper architecture of your own life and purpose, to listen for the portals and pathways already opening beneath your feet.

Come as you are, and leave with renewed clarity, soft power, and connection to the deeper rhythm that moves through all things.