Was honored to sit with Taita Sandro Piaguaje of the Aguarico Sionas,
And his assistants
In a circle of yage drinkers
A chance to fade away from the routine of day to day life
Reflect in ceremony
And feel the spirit force
As hard as it is, energetically and physically
Have an old book by ethnobotanist William T Vickers entitled
Useful Plants of the Siona and Secoya Indians of Eastern Ecuador
A good and occasional reference for whenever I have pangful dreams of
Canon ball trees, oropendola nests, and a field full of manioc
Cloudy brown green rivers
Specks of humid light under a shady still canopy
Endless trees and vines embedded in the fabric of the jungle
And the people intertwined with such worlds
I had never met anyone from the Siona nation
Or heard their songs, observed their healing practices
Sure do like the peccary necklaces and the tigre motifs
And the medicine that’ll wake you up from a selfish slumber
But man, really heavy
How do you shake off the sickness and purge the plague that is
The destruction of the forest
The strangling of culture
The contamination of life
Like a thick two ton block of lead falling on your head
Blood vessels choked with voracious worms
Splintering your innards with barbed teeth and fine crystalline hairs
Joints fractured crumbled into teeny shards and dusty bits
Makes you have serious reservations
About our responsibility and duty as caretakers of a planet
Gifted to us by ancestors at the origin of time
And blessed by countless guardians who open and close the gates
Of mind and consciousness
Well this is what I saw and congealed together by day break
Still contemplating, because the painted story seems kinda incomplete
A little bleak at a cross road
The colors and lights seem so distant
Where do they lead?
No obvious signs or tracks to follow
Sniffing…
Seems to head towards the wet swampy grassland plains
South
Mission Azul 