Imagine a shimmering paradise that stretches as far as your eye can see – the largest inland lake in the world! I was blessed to visit this dreamscape in February, 2004 after enduring a long bus ride through the Peruvian Highlands. The journey afforded magnificent views of snowcapped mountain ranges, fertile valleys and plunging ravines. At one point, we stopped at a village where many baby llamas where being cared for. They seemed very tame and it was unusual to be that close to them. Periodically, the bus stopped at town squares. I remember enjoying beautiful harp music, courtesy of a local man who gave a free concert right outside the door of a colonial church. Throughout these town squares, many locals gathered to socialize.

The bustling villages of Juliaca and Puno were very different from the tranquility of the rural countryside. I had just passed through centuries of ancient Incan culture - only to see its quiet charm eclipsed by a non-stop modern pace that seemed so out of character with the harmony of the countryside. All around me, the bustling pueblo thrived on intense human activity. The crowded streets, bursting at the seams, were jam packed with vendors of every sort. Also, there were big street festivals in progress. I was startled by blaring trumpets and even fireworks! I escaped by gradually distancing myself from the surrounding chaos, and wandering down to the lake.

Gazing out into the lake, I beheld a very different, awe-inspiring scene. My soul felt a peace that put me in tune with the beautiful surroundings. Before me loomed a large expanse of water stretching into eternity – an appealing living presence that speaks of the power of infinite self-expression to shape destiny. I felt as if I were standing on the edge of eternity. It was a great feeling!

Novelist Henry Miller once wrote: “Life is an unpremeditated leap into the unknown”. As such, our lives are a communion with the natural surrounding elements and the Great Mystery within us and our surroundings. Similarly, traversing Titicaca is a cosmic safari into the depths of the great void. Crossing the ocean of existence as a rite of sacred passage, is a mystery unraveled. I believe that to understand our existence, it is helpful to attune our consciousness to the nature of Being itself. This is the bliss of transcendental awareness. In this simple way of appreciation the mystic adventurer is attuned to unparalleled richness that graces our lives… moment to moment.

I love to dream of such blessings… to walk lightly on Mother Earth, to be one with the fleeting morning light that streaks across the distant horizon to an unknown shore. In this way, the journeyer summons the innate wisdom of the Universe… to be reborn anew. This creative life force is captivating hearts – providing sustenance, renewing lives, altering all in the abiding silence that ceaselessly beckons.

According to metaphysician Christa Faye Burka: ‘The Universe moves and changes with its own momentum and rhythm. There is natural timing and sequencing in Nature, which is evident in the movement of the stars, the cycles of Nature and the changes that occur from birth to death. The transformation of the individual soul involves a movement of energies that coincide with the movement, rhythm and cycles of the whole, for the soul is part of the whole.’

With this firmly in mind, I gradually made my way with an eclectic mix of fellow international travelers down to the water’s edge where tourist boats routinely whisk travelers across the lake. Soon we were off on a mini-adventure. It was a relief to see the port gradually receding from view. Ours was a high altitude fling at 10,140 ft. elevation!

At first the lake seemed almost non-descript, then suddenly the outline of a series of indigenous settlements loomed on the horizon. We saw a strange collection of picturesque, low-slung reed wigwam-shaped dwellings that reminded me of the inner recesses of a Salvadore Dali painting. These humble island structures are the homes of an indigenous culture known as the Uro tribe. Some of the buildings were also perched flamingo-like on stilts – a traditional standard of many indigenous cultures. This is definitely a good practice – because one big wave could wipe the whole village right off the map. The most striking thing about the island is that there is no soil – it is entirely made of flat beds of reeds, stacked one on top of the other, harvested from the lake. Our wooden motorboat skimmed toward this floating monstrosity, gliding like a hovercraft, until at last its hull made a dull thudding impact against tons of biomass.

Stepping ashore on what I dub ‘Earth Outpost 1’, the sensation is much like setting foot on a springy trampoline. It’s a bit challenging to walk across this no-man’s land – the quicksand-like, sink-walking escapade soon takes it toll. A few travelers, including myself, toppled over like bowling pins at a bowling alley.

I feel it might be better to live atop Turkey’s Mt. Arafat, or at least in an upscale flotilla community like the one in Sausalito, California, rather than endure this day-to-day existence! Then it hit me: modern civilization has made inroads here. The first signs were a few well-placed solar panels perched on the roof of one of the straw wigwams. Yet there was little evidence that CNN had an active audience here. Perhaps a satellite dish or two were inconspicuously hidden somewhere in the back of one of these reed dwellings. In any case, I did not see any if they were there, nor did I see any signs of cell phone addiction.

You don’t have to be a cultural anthropologist to notice some of the most glaring changes that affect indigenous societies across the globe. Mega-multinational based media has managed to successfully convince portions of the Uro tribe that they are the ‘in’ generation. Has the tribe really bought the message, I wonder? It’s difficult to ‘uncola’ the Pepsi generational influences once the clock has struck midnight at the height of New Years celebrations. I don’t care what side of the International Dateline you might be on: Once you witness a Coca-Cola bottle proudly being interwoven into a New Guinea tribesman’s war-bonnet, you know that the tsunami effect of globalization has made its mark in some of the most remote power spots across the planet.

Yet, at the Uro digs I did not see any kids toting plastic Barbie dolls, or much evidence of other modernization. Perhaps I did not look hard enough. After I spied the first cans of Coca Cola and assorted soft drinks, and how much the Uro women love to guzzle these byproducts of modern ‘civilization,’ I began wondering how many traditional lifestyles, including sacred ceremonies have vanished due to the influx of 21st century globalizing influences? This made me reflect on what a friend once related about his trip to an Amazonian tribe that continues to thrive way out in the deep recesses of the Ecuadorian jungle, (as they always have) without the conveniences most westerners so readily take for granted.

The very moment the tribe members saw the white man’s outboard motors, they all wanted the same contraptions. When you witness traditional bare-chested tribal women hawking Avon products on the Amazon by rough-hewn dugout canoe, you wonder what is next? This reminds me of a story my mother once told about how some tourists pinned up some dollar bills on trees by the banks of the Amazon. Local tribesmen shot at the bills with their blowguns. I guess it’s all part of the creative mix!

The Uros are relatively ‘lucky’ people. It seems that they’ve managed to retain distinct portions of their traditional ways. I’ve heard it said that these 42 Bay of Puno islands have been continuously inhabited for at least 250 years. Uro culture is very adaptable. For example, if a tribesperson gets tired of living on one island, they can simply hop into one of their reed boats and paddle over to a different island!

The Uros I encountered didn’t appear like they were heading anywhere, except possibly for a siesta in one of their straw wigwams. Nearby sat several sun-drenched locals, chatting, carefully eyeing the new visitors, and alternately gazing far out into the lake toward other floating settlements. Beyond any small talk or gossip, a meditative silence prevailed that mirrored the beauty of the calm, still waters. Occasionally, a rather squat, stoic Uro woman would briefly pause from her craft making to stop an unruly child from exiting her lap. This scene of mother and child sparked laughter and smiles from Uros and tourists alike. The momentary humor seemed to be the perfect way to break the ice, creating an unspoken universal bonding of sorts between the visiting foreigners and local islanders.

Part of my Uro encounter seemed very dreamlike. As an example: I enjoyed watching traditionally clad Uros gliding parallel to the reed isle with swan-like precision in their homemade boats. I was shocked to see one of these beautifully built boats with gaudy blue plastic tarps unceremoniously interwoven into its exterior. I know for sure these tarps weren’t used 10 or 20 years ago. Will there be an opening of a Home Depot or WalMart in Juliaca or Puno tomorrow? Probably not. For the moment there are no glaring billboards with modern advertisements jutting out into this idyllic oasis, just like there isn’t a plan quite yet to pave over the top of the Grand Canyon.

For the moment, the sound of Titicaca’s gurgling waters gently lapping against tons of rotting reeds is a pleasant reminder of the joys of semi-idyllic Uro living. But who wants to continually prop up sinking Uro islands? Of course, contemporary civilization rears its ugly head from time-to-time with a mish-mash of modern influences. So much for impermanence!

If you are completely fed up with being a castaway Robinson Crusoe - living just one floor below Donald Trump’s penthouse high-rise on Manhattan Island, a Uro island oasis may be just your cup of tea.

Whether the Uros permit outsiders to reside in their domain on a more permanent basis, is anyone’s guess. As Steve McQueen once blithely said: “I would rather wake up in the middle of nowhere, than in any city on Earth!”

To the reclusive at heart, the allure of island living is a growing phenomenon. Who, in their right mind doesn’t desire to be the overseer of their own island roost, or at least a king or queen for a day, or even…a lifetime! Of course, it’s best to be open to change, yet follow your inner guidance. There are many possibilities for creating spiritual retreats. There are places in the world where you can simply camp out and have squatter’s rights on uninhabited isles for a lifetime. Or, simply following a lark, you can buy you very own Shangri-la. Some island retreats can be purchased relatively inexpensively, while others require you to fork over millions. In the Persian Gulf kingdom of Dubai, as many as 300 islands have gone on the market, each in the multi-million dollar price range. In every case, solitude and tranquility is at a high premium in this age of increasing complexity.

The Uro island settlements have a nice down-home ambiance to them. I hope it lasts! Remarkably, life is still a sacred mystery of minute and epic proportions… and as a saving grace, we are all indigenous to somewhere!

In terms of cultivating harmonious lifestyles, where does this lead? The answers are as varied as the starry constellations; and… as Bob Dylan once said: ‘the answer is blowin’ in the wind. ‘ No pun intended… but perhaps it takes a ‘Urologist’ or an Amazonian medicine man to divine the future.

As boatload after boatload of Ipod and camera-toting tourists descend on the floating reed Uro enclaves, I wonder about even the best human intentions. If much acclaimed writer-prophet Walt Whitman is correct when he advises: ‘A mouse is miracle enough to startle sextillions infidels,’ then all of humanity would be wise to adopt simple reverence and wonder. The real question is: Can we live and let live…living simply so all can dwell in peace? The fact that each floating Uro outpost is still a calm, albeit fragile, floating survival commune, is one miracle amidst many.

Our current information-based age continues to offer extended possibilities. It is a joy to traverse the planet point to point – to savor the goings-on in a simple, unpretentious manner, while pondering our origins. Yet technology is still like plummeting meteor showers – making its mark wherever it hits. How utterly convenient, yet strange that some people can freely explore the planet’s most remote jungle outposts and still be in touch at the drop of a hat with up-to the-minute Wall Street stock quotes by satellite phone!

The world as we know it is resilient, but it is also like a fragile piñata. In a sense, Uro homemade straw crafts are a metaphor for this. There before me, neatly spread out on homespun cotton and woolen blankets, were a plethora of delicately engineered straw boats, each no bigger than a wayward church mouse. These delightful replicas of larger, traditional Uro vessels are reminiscent of decorations on a Christmas tree, some almost as delicate as strands in a spider’s web.

Observing the crafts, I was teleported back to my childhood. When I was merely a kid of ten or so, one of my favorite pastimes was launching toy boats into a still pond. Largely, I was content in every moment: every millisecond a wondrous focused meditation. This same pond now seems as transitory as eternity itself. In my mind’s eye, I view Titicaca as no different, for it is a Loch Ness of sorts, on a very large scale. Adopting the even bigger picture, we are poised on the brink of creation like angels with wings!

Journeying into a greater acceptance of eternity and our eternal nature, a Hindu sage Papaji comments: ‘There is love when there is no lover and beloved. No subject, no object. This is true love.’ On a wing and a prayer, my Titicaca adventure continued to reveal how love creates harmony and balance in spite of chaos. If you look beyond the shoreline and commit to exploring there, whole new chapters of existence miraculously unfold.

The sound of our guide beckoning to us to board our boat brought me to my senses. In a flash, we departed the sinking Little Venice. Once safely onboard, the options are much fewer than those ashore. Where we were headed next was anyone’s guess! In essence, you have to make the best of the voyage until you reach dry land again.

Titicaca’s immensity is overwhelming. Stretching an impressive 121 miles long, by 35 miles wide, including 43 Uro islands and 41 additional ones. I had been informed, prior to the trip, that we would eventually view some “magic isles”.

I soon found out that the wind spirits were very adept at playing Scrabble – for it is impossible to guess the ever-changing weather patterns. Once we left the Uro settlement far behind, a gale-force storm kicked up out of nowhere, complete with waves! Our vessel was tossed around like a tea cup at a Mad-Hatter’s tea party. Eventually though, our craft weathered the storm.

Decked out in life vests, we found ourselves motoring toward a rugged, forlorn-looking outpost of an island known as Taquile. There, poised motionless on the dock, were a welcoming group of locals – short, traditionally dressed Latina-looking women wearing black shawls. I swore I was in some tiny Mexican pueblo, versus Taquile. I discovered our hosts were fluent in Spanish as well as some dialects I didn’t understand. We split up into smaller groups. Several brightly attired local women beckoned us to follow them up the steep mountain trail to their homes way above. Laden with heavy photo equipment, including a tripod, I lagged behind to capture some panoramic shots.

On the way up, I clung to my gear for dear life as the wind attempted to blow me right off the cliff-face. After filming the beautiful vistas, I continued along the trail. Finally, I was relieved to make it to the top of the ridge, where our lodgings had been prearranged.

Being atop Taquile is like being at the apex of a clipper ships’ mast. The vistas are truly magnificent! Lake Titicaca is a light that continually envelops the soul with the wonder of its living presence. This too, I surmised, was its function in ancient times – one that has naturally supported the power of evolution to evoke change. To gaze out on its waters denotes the breadth of its heart space… a life of much fuller expression. Creativity is evident in simplicity. As such, Titicaca is a confirmation of sublime soul essence.

As the afternoon wore on, nearly everywhere I went, I ran into various local folk who would appear, like leprechauns, out of nowhere. I’m sure they knew all of the best places to visit – even ones most tourists might never experience. I was impressed with everyone’s hospitality, though some of the young people were remarkably shy. Prior to sunset, I wandered around the premises.

My brief tour took me on a trail across the top of the island, where I witnessed a maze of cobblestone streets and quaint local stores, occasional restaurants and large squares with colonial-style chapels.

The island life, though devoid of Greek cooking and cultural influences, reminded me of some wonderful days I had spent on the Aegean. There were herds of mountain goats, free-range chickens, and numerous organic gardens laden with flowers and sumptuous greens, as well as a variety of cacti. In nearly every direction, I was awed by splendid watery vistas as far as I could see, yet because of its isolated location, I got the feeling I was on Easter Island!

On the edge of what first appeared to be an overlook, I discovered a signpost. One marker jutted out into space in the direction of Lhasa, Tibet. It read: ‘Lhasa – 17,506 km. Another claimed that Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, was a mere 8,864 km as the crow flies! The wording on the sign sounded like the Himalayas were just a stone’s throw away! In a sense, they are! Let me explain: The very moment a geographical region is envisioned, it makes an impression in the consciousness of the beholder.

In that very moment, you become one with what you meditate on. It’s all part of the conscious gestation process.

There is a pervasive sense of isolation in the middle of Titicacca. This reminds me of one of Mahatma Gandhi’s comments: ‘Solitude is the price of greatness.’ What is also true is that solitude is priceless – in that it encourages travelers to gain utmost clarity. An added benefit is that serenity encourages us to truly enjoy the expansive peace… even amidst human chaos.

Our inner signpost is always beckoning us to adopt the solitude of enlightened repose. When I gaze toward Lhasa or Katmandu, I realize that I am imbibing the peace of the world, a quality of life that is beyond compare!

What is the significance of exploring the unknown? The answers are literally “blowin’ in the wind” at Taquile! To fathom the Sacred Mystery is to better come to grips with it. Increased awareness spawns enlightened understanding which is synonymous with true wisdom. The Universe has an incredible plan for us. Some words of wisdom from California-based Spirit Rock Meditation Center: ‘No matter what we do, there is always the return to mystery, and for that we need only to notice.’ To live excellently translates as being attentive – open to every present moment. The essence, of course, is the power of love itself. The miracle is to discover these forces right in our midst, all part of the Divine blueprint for sane co-evolution.

Speaking of possibilities…I never thought I would be engaged in a Taquile soccer match, on a flat panoramic overlook, in the middle of the lake. Yet it happened! There in front of me appeared a big rectangular court. The word was out: the locals had challenged us to play the popular sport they both relish and excel in. For a while, it seemed that the game was a draw. Then suddenly, they triumphed with a few goals... one right after the other! It was quite humorous to see these very short locals almost effortlessly out-maneuvering western “giants” of men.

I cherished the opportunity to get to know these simple folk. It was remarkable how much peace and joy we received through our interactions. It seems to me, the less complicated we make our existence, the more peaceful, joyous lifestyles we are capable of.

Perhaps if world leaders would make their decisions in such a relaxed atmosphere, not only they, but the whole world, would be much better off – for to adopt goodwill by peaceful means is the perfect win-win objective.

As the locals scored more goals, the afternoon gradually waned. I was startled at how fast night descended. I was getting hungry, and my body longed to collapse in a feather bed. Sensing my needs, one of the local women ushered me to a small second floor room with sweeping vistas of the lake. I admired the solidly constructed earthen architecture. The fortress-like walls were at least two feet thick all around (quite unlike some construction I had seen in other parts of the world).

After I collapsed on the bed, my consciousness entered an entirely different domain. I slept like a log until I was awakened by a celestial bell sound. Had I reached the pearly gates of heaven? No! Much to my chagrin, it was only the Taquile dinner bell!

The sumptuous aroma of traditional homespun cooking drew me like a moth to a flame down the steep stairway and into the kitchen, known as la cocina in Spanish. The cozy, dimly lit room was adorned with many candles.

A local woman crouched like a jaguar by an ancient clay oven and soot-strewn hearth, where she was stoking the fire, flipping tortillas, and occasionally adding pinches of herbs to the aromatic soup. A silhouette of her form danced across the adobe walls in tune with the flickering hearth. The simple, delicious fare seemed to take an eternity to prepare and serve, but it was well worth it. The hot soup offered a welcome respite to the searing cold and boisterous winds whipping around the building like shrieking ghosts.

After dinner, I thanked my hosts and retreated back upstairs to my room. I slept incredibly well and was surprised glimpse the first light of dawn coursing into my open room the next morning. Gazing out across the patio, I noticed my fellow travelers were assembling their gear. The word was out that were being asked to hike down the mountainside to the dock, where our boat and guide awaited our arrival.

Our return to Puno was forthcoming. Eventually we cast off from the mooring. We were on our way back… but not before the locals assembled to bid us farewell. Soon the crowd on the dock seemed no bigger than tiny specks on the horizon. The rough waters had completely subsided, and our trip back was largely uneventful.

We finally reached our starting point after motoring at a heart-wrenching snail’s pace for several hours. I felt much relief to be finally back in Puno, yet the long trip to Cusco lay ahead. It was a strange sensation to be back on the shore, for the streets were bustling with many of the town’s 80,000 dusty inhabitants.

Perhaps you have heard the phrase: ‘Where love is present, all things are possible.’ What is simpler than that? Fortunately, I have let love be my guide on this journey. In this spirit I have traversed the rugged Peruvian terrain, yet at times I still felt a sinking feeling as if my deepest wishes might not have been fulfilled. Have you ever played a game of hide-and-seek – one in which you search for something ‘missing,’ only to find that it had never vanished, and that the reward was fully present all along? What I have experienced is that love and change of consciousness teaches us to ponder what our real values are. Embrace divinity to the fullest. Viewing our lives from the perspective of them being magnificent and empowering, we are free to bask in the Omnipresence that ever sustains.

Now, as I look back on my journeys around the world, some memories seem to have evaporated like grains of sand, passing all too quickly through an hourglass. Looking back on Peru and my forays into the unknown, I am truly grateful for what has transpired. Titicaca is an unforgettable memory. Will I return there? Perhaps, but in this moment, though the answers are still blowin’ in the wind, my heart is as serene and placid as the soft, glowing sheen on Titicaca’s mirrored surface! This I will always remember!

A few words of caution if you travel to Lake Titicaca: It’s wise to do what you can to ensure your personal safety in both Puno and Juliaca. Although I did not encounter any mishaps, I was careful to take adequate precautions by remaining aware of my surroundings…being ‘streetwise’ and well informed. To avoid complications, it’s best to travel with one or more close friends, or in a small tour group. Also, be well advised - venturing out on the lake is a whole other realm. Because weather conditions vary according to season, it’s best to be prepared for the unexpected. The small tourist motorboats, though sturdily built, are both noisy and polluting. Thus, noise-canceling headphones are an excellent idea to enjoy the otherwise peaceful surroundings.

If you’re sensitive to diesel fumes, you will need to experiment as to the best place to be seated. You may consider taking some extra food and water along. Since the weather conditions are so variable, extra warm clothing - even wool hats and gloves are useful.

Thank you for coming along on this trip. Perhaps you will someday follow in my footsteps.

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