Chile. “Where Spirits Soar”


Through Harold’s Lens:

Please start the music first, as you are enjoying the images and words.

You will receive the full sensual experience of this story.

Bottom of our world
Where ice mountains drift
Where winds of ice blow
Where giant condors soar.

The melodic beauty
The haunting sounds
The lone pan flute

Across the Andes Mountain Range
Around thick, wood forest
Around dark, bark trees
Around green, pine needles.

Drawing me
Luring me
Sucking me in
Capturing me.

My first view

Long black flowing hair
Strong fighting face
Distant stare
Spiritual leader?

What was happening here?

The Great Spirit?
Deep religious rite?
Communication with ancestors, Gods?
Fireballs, comets, shooting stars?

Cultural worship?
Harmonious earthly elements?
Wind, rain, mountains, springs
Animals, birds, trees, plants
Full moon.

Ritual love affair?
Language of the land?
Traditional. Native
Beauty, love
Honor, virtue.

I nestled in
Soft pine needles.

Emotionally bathing.

The beauty of our world.