A journey from the medicine wheel I was in a couple of years ago. Huaskar is the Keeper of the Underworld in Q’ero cosmology.

I went to see Huaskar again on the weekend. It was an interesting experience.

I arrived at the Underworld via the big tree in the middle of my meadow – same as last time. The river Styx was quiet as I rode it down and over a waterfall – to end up emerging on the shore of a lake. Difference this time was the soft sunlight peaking through green trees here and there – so it was not completely dusk, as it has been before.

I was directed to see Huaskar on the cliff above the waterfall. What I saw was a luminous being of light – who glided down to stop in front of me. I bowed on my knee and greeted him – rather like a knight of the round table.

I was instructed to give him a gift from a pouch on my hip – I looked down and the pouch was a rough leather hanging from an intricately beaded belt on my waist – the beads were mostly red with some turquoise. I pulled out a set of white dice and gave it to him.

I asked my question: “I want to study shamanism –  but I need more time in my life to study in earnest. I would like to somehow do it for a living. Not necessarily to be a practitioner, but to study. How do I support my family while doing this? And is this my true path?” (it was something like that anyways).

The luminous being who I thought was Huaskar, just hovered there opening and closing its wings. It had no face. It said nothing.

I was directed to go back to the lake so I thought, ‘bummer – it’s not working this time’ and headed back to the lake.

When I was up to my thighs in the cool, clear water I glanced over briefly at the side of the lake and on a huge boulder sat Huaskar! He was the same guy I saw the last time I came down here; a short Mexican man with bushy black eyebrows, a round pock market nose, crooked teeth and a congenial countenance. He was looking at me and waiting in amusement, kind of like, ‘hey I was waiting for you to notice me’. He was wearing the same black hat, but his tunic was different. A royal dark burgundy colour in the patterns.

I ran over to see him, even though I was being directed by my guide to move back up the waterfall to the tree. I felt rushed and asked him my question; ‘Is this my path? How do I find work doing this, so I can immerse myself in it?’ or some such.

He said, after a pause (and I felt like I had to give him the permission or ability to actually speak words rather than give me visual symbols);

‘Your work is your Work’, matter-of-factly.

Still mulling that over.