Walking with Pachamama: A Sacred Remembering

I was born into this life with an invisible thread connecting me to something ancient and enduring. Though raised in the United States, my spirit always belonged to something deeper—my Indigenous Mexican roots, the ancestral heartbeat that whispered through time, reminding me that I have always been guided. I now know my ancestors have walked beside me from the very beginning, waiting for the day I would remember.

From an early age, I saw the world through the eyes of spirit. At six years old, I sensed life unfolding as if it had already been lived. Time moved in circles. Familiar moments arrived like echoes, as though I were tracing steps long known to my soul.

In my early years, I often sought refuge—in dreams, in silence, and in nature. While the outer world felt turbulent, the inner world held peace. Sleep became a sanctuary, and the natural world a place of communion. I didn’t just observe the Earth—I became one with her. Hummingbirds carried messages. Chickens were companions. Each tree, each stone, each breath of wind, was a living teacher.

These early experiences were not escapes, but initiations. Dreams opened doorways into the unseen. Astral travel, heightened intuition, and messages from spirit became part of my language. Though many around me dismissed these visions as heavy dreams, they were sacred maps of remembrance. My sensitivity to life—including my early shift toward vegetarianism deepened my attunement to the Earth’s frequency and the medicine within it.

My journey has been guided by both surrender and mystery. Through the teachings of Native Indigenous traditions, I found resonance in the rhythm of the drum, in the ceremonial dance, and in honoring the elements. As I grew, I followed the thread of spirit through prayer, sage, and sacred inquiry. Motherhood brought deeper purpose. A quantum leap opened the door to visions of awakening in distant lands.

That vision led me to the desert of Saudi Arabia, where isolation became a cocoon. In solitude, I meditated, painted, and remembered. I deepened my gifts of clairvoyance and psychic knowing, and reawakened the voice of spirit that had never left me.

But it was in the Andes Mountains of Imbabura, Ecuador, where my soul finally exhaled. Sitting with Grandfather San Pedro, embraced by the sacred teachings of Sumak Kawsay, I felt the mountains sing. I had found my family. I had come home—not just to a place, but to a path.

Today, I walk the Red Road as a Vision Quester, honoring the Earth, the elements, and the wisdom of my ancestors. The sacred medicines of Kambo, Ayahuasca, Bufo, and Peyote, San Pedro have helped me remember what was always within: that healing is not something we seek—it is something we allow when we return to our natural state.

This path has not been about becoming. It has been about remembering. Peeling back the layers. Listening again. Returning to the voice of Pachamama, who speaks in every heartbeat, every prayer, every ceremony.

This is my offering. This is my devotion.
May my journey with Pachamama illuminate your path,
As we remember—together—who we truly are.

Founder of Healing With Pachamama

—Diana Renteria