We Sat Up with the medicine, and Creator, and each other until morning.
The words below were my intent that I spoke for everyone that came.
"I called us here so we can rest with Creator together in this ancient structure.
I especially called us here so that Creator, and the medicine can help us see through the eyes of the heart.
So we can feel the purest love that exists.
So we can release the past.
So we can create this moment.
So we can shine through the pain, through suffering, through the wars within ourselves, and through sickness.
So we can see all truth with sharpness.
Let us shine through life, and live the beauty that Creator intended for us, and let our hearts glow."
It is simply a "prayer" that I wanted everyone to feel.
This is what we do, we pray. It is like a church, you could say.
This way has its own root, very strong. It is rooted with indigenous "belief," but it is for all people. It came originally from the Maracame people from what is now known as San Louise, Mexico. And then it traveled down through many peoples, places, "cultures," and "boarders."
So you could think like this; if there is only one "God" with many names, and many paths to get to "him," then of course, everyone can come. On this road, we say Creator. One who creates all. There is no "one" higher.
So in the night, we eat the medicine. We get to know each other. We pray out loud with our songs, the songs that come from the language of the medicine itself. We pray by simply talking whats on our mind while being listened to, uninterrupted. We pray by simply rolling a tobacco - rolling it in corn husk - lighting it with the embers of a stick - smoking it - passing it - offering it.
The people witness the prayers for each other. The sacred smokes like sage, cedar, tobacco carry the prayers to Creator after being witnessed. With the medicine, you can see this happen. You see it happen. This is what I found. You can actually SEEEEEE this process.
And then after morning water, everyone eats a little bit to wake up. We make sure everyone gets just enough. Legs are stretched, people talk together more, eat together more, work together more, and all of the sudden, the structure is gone.
And it is ALL left painted in the sand.
The painting gets rained on.
So the prayers, and truths of the night are burned into our memories. Onto our hearts.
This is a way that has been carried by indigenous people of Turtle Island since time immemorial. This is the voice of the sacred grandfather medicine, Peyote. Peyotzin.
This is the Native American Church.
Because I was welcomed to it for so many years, sat in the NAC sweat lodge, I figured, why not have an NAC tipi with medicine.
I figured, since Turtle Island is the land I live on, even though it is not where my blood is from, why not go and see. Become kin.
After all, I was craving it through the stories, and the songs after so many years of hearing them, and even learning them.
So what I found... is that there is no way to describe the way that Peyote feels as a medicine. But in the traditional setting, when you eat it right.....
So this is something I found within myself already... My connection is with God first. Then myself. Then others.
What I experienced with this medicine is that
I was pulled to look at Creator. (Even though you can never see Creator.)
I was pulled to look at myself. And that made me GET WELL.
I was pulled to look at Others. And that made me care.
I was listening to the grandfather medicine, Cayu Mari, speak to me as if I was his own grandchild.
This medicines' name is Cayu Mari, and he is the beautiful blue deer.
What I loved the most... is that the colors in the sand at the end were the same as what the fire, and the smokes paint onto the canvas, and what you see on the peoples' skin.
Thank you is not enough.
The window in my heart opens for a moment, and all I have to say to everything is Tlazokamati. I say thank you with my mouth, with my heart.
