An evening in the heart of South America. Summer draws to a close while autumn intrudes, brutal, in torrential rains borne by violent winds. Seated outside beneath the shelter of the banana trees, my candle’s light wavers; it is time to light a Mapacho.

After two days of fasting, I feel the moment has come to work with the Spirit of Tobacco, as it was taught to me.

Tobacco is a sacred plant—natural, potent, inspiring; it brings me peace, even as so many questions, long-awaiting their answers, stir within. I strike a light in the night, a beacon of sorts, a flame of life offered to this place and to the invisible Presences that welcome me here.

What is my intention? If only I had but one! One must choose. “In this strange season of my life, I struggle to maintain the bond with my own soul, to see clearly into my existence, into my purpose. I need help; I wish to call upon the Spirit of the Tobacco plant tonight. If other kindly spirits want to join, I welcome every good will.

Usually, for the first twenty minutes of the ceremony, I still my thoughts; I find my center; I cleanse myself. I offer long draughts of smoke to Mother Earth, to the Sky; I pray, and I invoke the protection of the Plant for the duration of this rite.

In the twenty minutes that follow, I seek contact with the Spirit of the plant. I open myself to her; I find again that singular taste. My body, too, must take her in so the work can begin.

The twenty minutes after that—sometimes more—she speaks to me, more or less; every ceremony is unique. The message that stays with me tonight is: “Dance with your shadows.”

I, who love words and sentences perhaps a little too long, will have to work with this message—concise, yet subtle.

The work does not stop when the ceremony ends. That is why I like the evening; it is not rare for the night that follows to bring me more. This is the Medicine of Dreams—another Medicine, equally subtle, equally profound. The journey has only just begun…

Gaël Cotonnec