Supernova Prayers

Five Andean teachings for staying human while the world burns and blooms.

There is so much in our hearts right now. So many pieces of the world living, collapsing, dying, birthing. It feels like a supernova—the holy violence of a star becoming more than itself—except the explosion is inside the chest, inside the field around the body, inside the strange, tender circuitry of being human.

I feel my energy body expanding into a depth I have been afraid to know.

Feeling into the depths of the suffering many live with, because some wake up in the morning on a mission to create more suffering for others. While some wake up dreaming of their field, the trees they will plant, the song they will share, the love that will manifest in good work, in good hands.

It is strange to be human. To have this capacity to see, reflect, to know—and to know we don’t know. To remember ancestors and dream of destiny. To write poetry and listen to prophecy. Last night we held our first circle of the year from La Ferme du Cerf Bleu with my wife. Close to 100 people signed up. Not because we are famous or loud or powerful, but because we aim to be weavers of an ancient thread that might carry us more truthfully through dark times.

I have not slept well the past few weeks. I can blame the weather and the winter bugs, but I think my body is feeling and processing something else. Because I saw it in my nightmarish dreams: the people lost, the people calling, the people fighting with their devotion for a place to live in peace, in love, in truth. So I often sit on the edge of our glass veranda, looking over the 20 acres we vowed to rewild and protect. It is in its infancy, a baby barely out of the womb. And yet it is also a very old grandmother, who has seen too many monocrops, too many chemicals, too many machines that cared little for her well-being.

And when I sit there, I wonder if writing is even necessary. But I guess it is my way to provide threads across this strange digital medium and artificial screens made of rare earth and slavery. The paradigm is difficult. The absurdity and tension are real. The pain is deep. And in those moments of great confusion, it is known that the soul awakens faster—the intelligence that beats our hearts and cleans our blood wakes us to a call of ancient memories and future dreams. We are all called to listen more honestly, feel the depth of the pain more wisely, and answer with great devotion.

If we dare to step into the deeper relationship of care to land, the web of life, and the invisible realm, I know it always answer back.

As a friend, we not only visit them when we need guidance, but we visit with offerings and care for them when they need us too. The land, the trees, the animals, and the Spirit are not only silent witnesses and guides; they are kin, they are family. They also have this treasure: they hold their essence, wildness, and truth steady for our repair and guidance as human animals.

Oak cannot run away from his essence, nor the deer, nor the ant, nor the daffodil in the spring, all bound by the magical wheel of life. But we humans seem to wonder why we are here, what is our purpose, what step to take next. And it is true that when removed from land, traditions, wise elders, and rituals, the vacuum left can easily be filled by consumption, screens, and hateful leaders.

So I want to offer, in this moment, some magical and ancient guidance my teacher in the Andes offered me over decades of prayer and a life of devotion.

Only a few, five to be precise, because I believe we already have too much to consume. We are full, overfed, saturated with information. A nervous system designed for the forests and meadows of wildflowers is now forced to live between concrete walls and under artificial light. No wonder we suffer. No wonder we search.

So let’s dive into those 5 ancient teachings, GPS for the Soul and the Spirit, a compass for living a life that is coherent, life-giving, and true in a world that tries to steal the magic from us.