Author: Santiago @themountainchallenge

Dark days passed, the environment became sad, without hope, deep in the bowels or even to say, I felt a dark quagmire that barely moved with the jumps of the bus, the word did not flow, the body responded out of sheer inertia, everything seemed meaningless I did not know where I was going, I simply accepted the invitation of a friend to climb one of the mountains on the eastern side of the city. 

We got off the bus and the sun shone on my face greeting me, the flowers shone as they danced with the fresh air, a feeling of relief came with the first sigh, we walked along a road, we crossed a ravine and we entered the forest, I did not know where I was, I was simply walking to the rhythm of my friend, we arrived at a wooden house and a man with about 1.60 meters tall arrived, with fine brown skin like that of a jaguar and a rough face and with very defined expressions, he greeted us very He kindly invited us to come to his house, we introduced ourselves and we looked each other accurately, reflecting ourselves as in a mirror, like two wolves recognizing each other from the same command, the dark atmosphere vanished in the thick forest, in the smiles and in the dialogue that afternoon. 

He listened to the man speak very enthusiastically when referring to mother earth, telling stories of his closest ancestors who live in the heart of the jungle near the Urinamani or Caquetá river, he mentioned that this river is the most important reference in the life of his clan It is around it where important activities for the community take place and it is one of the rivers through which the barbarity of the rubber tappers ran, the not so well known War of the Carijonas and the conflict of recent times. 

With the dialogue the energy was rising, I felt in the jungle with the stories of this man, from his backpack he took out two bottles and put them on the table, took one of them and from it he took out a stick that was impregnated with a substance creamy (Ambil) very shiny, in a meditative posture with her back straight and looking towards the horizon, she licked this substance the moment I asked her how her childhood had been in the jungle, then she took the other bottle containing a powder very fine green that with the reflection of the sun highlighted its color, I was intrigued to know what this was, many prejudices went through my head but I did not pay attention to them, rather I assumed a listening posture and observed that this man sat like a shaman, his voice was heard clearer, the words touched my heart, I was listening to the story of a man who was born surrounded by majestic trees, who had learned to swim in the mysterious rivers of the Amazon, he said thattheir games were with insects, climbing trees, getting wet in the rain, accompanying their parents deep in the jungle to gather food. 
The word that came from this brother led me to a fantasy tale of pure magic.

It motivated me to pay careful attention to each image that the dialogue generated, I specifically mention the origin of this fine powder that he had taken from his backpack, I mention with a very deep voice: this is sweet coca, for my tradition Muruy Muina is a sacred plant , a woman who speaks with a sweet voice, is heard on the earth, in the water, in the air in your voice and my voice, a legacy of the ancestors that lives in all times, allows us to dialogue with the earth, with ourselves, with the father, mother, siblings, it is the word of life, we take care of the word and the care is mutual, when the word is sincere of heart, respect, understanding, pure love is what we need in these times, what we live today has already been lived, and the way to overcome this cycle is simply to remember that we are part of everything that exists and does not exist, of time and timelessness, of space and emptiness.

I felt in the middle of a very old ritual, although it seemed like a very common meeting, I felt in a very pure atmosphere, I listened to the words with fine clarity, the thought was light as the wind, he offered me mambe and I accepted to receive him with gratitude and full consciousness in listening to this millenary medicine, I passed a spoonful with his hand and I received it without taking my eyes off her, I put it in my mouth and felt the sensation of running out of air, I closed my eyes and watched my throat breathe through me nose, the powder was taking on a paste consistency as the saliva and the movement of the tongue molded a ball, I opened my eyes, I wanted to speak but could not, I felt a discomfort in my gut, deep inside, that would not let me be He looked at me and I read in his calm eyes, the feeling that everything is in harmony, I sat well observing "that" that I felt would not let me Be, as the mambe ball was integrating into my body, time passed without measure One, the sensation faded into infinity, fear did not let me see the cause, this sensation was produced by myself, the medicine was healing me, I could see the fear in front of me, the energy was renewed and the word flowed, immense gratitude awoke.         

A very ancient science that has been preserved as a treasure, taking care of the plant and the silver of us, of the message, of life, of the earth, there are grandparents in all territories praying for rivers, mountains, deserts, the meadows, the snow-capped mountains, we keep the hope of a beautiful return in the life-death cycle, we are the fruits of the seeds of our ancestors with the legacy of continuing the sowing, making sure that so that the seeds grow with their well-founded roots in the tree of life we ​​must be aware of the mutual care of care and sensitivity for the mother who gave birth to us.     

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