Medicine Woman
September 16 2025 (Journal Entry)
“It’s time for you to become the medicine woman you’re meant to be,” were the words I heard during my kambo ceremony in Costa Rica. In my vision I was in a vast field in the middle of the night. I’m a young girl from some kind of tribe. In front of me, a very large figure. She wore a cloak; a kind of tribal tapestry of rainbows and dark blue. Where her face should be was darkness; the stars and cosmos in its place.
After that ceremony I spent the next few days wandering the small waterfalls. Floating in the river, I stared up at the blue sky, watching the colourful parrots fly overhead. A part of my soul yearned to stay here, leave my life in Toronto to stay in the jungle and learn from what nature had to teach me. I could feel Spirit so clearly here. I could feel her presence and hear her messages. Mother Aya, Pachamama
. . .
I meditated after râpé this morning and I laughed because that message came back so clear as I sat there, once again landing in the space. I am meant to be a medicine woman. All this turmoil, inner conflict, worrying about finances, moving to a condo--everything dissipated and the message was once again so simple. That is the path of my becoming. That is my role here. So what does that mean? What is my medicine? My voice, I was reminded. I knew this. I’ve known this for some time. And that’s all the information I was given. What does it mean to use my voice as medicine? The salve for the wounds of the earth. Continue to write, share my stories and art, sing?
In the jungle I felt that was the only place where I would be able to truly tap into this inner nature. That the noise and static interference of the city would dull my senses and poison my mind. It does from time to time. I’ve just learned that it comes back to remembering. Reconnecting my soul to that field of energy I always have access to. If I keep my channel clear and be open enough to listen, I can hear her. Clear as the stars exist, even behind the clouds and smog.
So I surrender. I am a vessel for spirit to move through me. I trust that I am guided and my actions are not only mine but are a co-creation of a force beyond anything my human mind can plan out as targets and goals. I am not my body, I am not even my mind. So there is no dichotomy between spirit and vessel. The vessel is the instrument that is sculpted as her waters pass through me. And so I honor both, and allow them to exist as one.
. . .
After meditating this morning I moved into the sunny spot on my balcony, chanting “Aum Namah Shivaya”. A giant ‘mourning cloak’ butterfly flies in front of me and lands on the railing right by my left shoulder. I wanted to stop and captured the moment. To make sure I really could grasp that she was there. But I continued chanting until I was finished. Knowing that the point isn’t to grasp life as it is always in motion; to have gratitude for the gift that is the present, not to immortalize it.
