The never-ending journey...

In May of 2013, I journeyed to Ecuador with a group from The Pachamama Alliance and entered the Amazon Rainforest.

My group, with our indigenous guides and shaman.

For two weeks I stayed with indigenous tribes and communities learning their way of life, their culture, and their spiritual practices, specifically shamanism.

While there, I had never felt such a sense of oneness and wholeness. My spirit soured high above the endless trees and drifted down the river like water.

Aerial view of the Pastaza River

Within two days, I had formed a family with my fellow travelers. These people knew what I knew and much more. These people accepted me, encouraged me, respected me, and loved me. A deep connection I had never experienced before was formed.

Returning home was culture shock. I had never felt so alone and abandoned.

One of the traditional huts we stayed underneath.

After spending two weeks with no wall between nature and my bed, no sound barrier between the symphony of the night and my pillow, no more of technology’s constant calls distracting me and stealing my senses, I stepped my bare feet onto oil and tobacco stained concrete.

I felt a loss of hope, like a piece of me still lie in the forest. I had left my new home in the rainforest for my old one in Oklahoma, traded my new family who accepted me for my family who begged me not to go.

While my new family and friends returned to their homes in California, they had one another, along with the vast amount of open-minded people of the West Coast.

I had, the Bible Belt of conservatism.

Warrior face-paint gifted from an Achuar guide upon our departure.