Chaski of Staffs

Today, a rush of wind nearly knocked me off the road. I had just stepped around a narrow bend when something swept past so quickly that my clothes snapped against my legs. His footsteps struck the stones like a drumbeat. By the time I realized what had happened and looked up, I saw a man running ahead of me with a tall staff in his hand.

He was fast, his mantle streaming behind him as he climbed and a pututu bouncing against his side with every stride. I could hear his sandals hitting the road long after there should have been anything left to hear. Then I noticed the staff and recognized Viracocha.

I had seen that figure before, but never like this. The staff I remembered had been approached slowly, studied carefully, and treated with ceremony. This one was flying through the mountains in the hands of a Chaski who showed no sign of slowing. I started wondering where he was going and what could possibly require that kind of urgency. Was someone waiting for him? Was there a ceremony ahead? Had something happened farther along the road?

Whatever the reason, he knew where he was going. Within minutes he had disappeared around another bend, leaving only dust settling across the stones and me standing in the middle of the road. I thought about him for the rest of the day.

There are things I say matter to me. Dreams I want to pursue, ideas I keep returning to, places I want to go, and things I intend to do when there is enough time, enough certainty, or the right moment. The Chaski did not look like someone waiting for the right moment. He looked like someone who had already been given a reason to move.