The Healing of the Great Spirit
Arutam's grace has abandoned the lands, people’s health is diminishing, and their peace darkens. They can no longer see, and therefore, they continue in a painful fall against the tide. Ferocity against the world turns to madness, and as mad people, they cannot remember. They are in oblivion, tired of justifying through mangled reason. Reason that holds intense frustration, which explodes in itself ravaging, burning, and destroying the sites where, once upon a time, the grace of the sacred cared for the world’s beauty.
This spiritual teaching is the path of reunion with Arutam, the return of the intensity of the sacred touch that means health. Realising that we are alive in everything is the true meaning of love.
To love is being alive in everything, to be truly alive in all of the intensity of a nervous system which feels everything there is in delightful peace. Peace allows the total flow of the sacred touch which sings in life, a song which all beings share in a magic enchantment of you Arutam. To breathe that which we call earth and which is born from an endless clear perfection - where we settle in eternal depth, peace, and happiness - means endless possibilities. The possibility for everyone is freedom. Protecting earth, expanding, feeding, feeling where to be and what to do to perpetuate natural perfection.
The Great Teacher
Every teaching of the Union in Arutam must be carried out in depth, considering every aspect of this big enchantment that is Life. The world, the living world, alive from the great joy that we are - why continue to hide from it? It is worse to destroy it rather that learn from it, to give in and soften the heart, a heart which dies dry. This is the teacher that teaches us at every instant, each blink, each sound, smell, sense… The great wealth we are is the totality of this world, and upon finding Spirit, you realise that you live in everything. Love is the most natural thing, who would not care for everything, if he knew that he was everything?
The world gifts us the perfect sustenance and life for which we were born ready: our trees share their light with us lovingly and bringing the rain; water runs down from the peaks in sacred stone where distant memories run, making one remember the force that holds the skeleton together; sacred lands bathed in rain, haze, and pretty light where nourishment grows eternally in each environment adapted to the land’s particular enchantment; memories of our grandparent trees, who gifts us with shelter and warmth after a life of power; leaves, that when the time is right, fall from above covering us even more.
We struggle with a world which loves us and, inevitably, we are part of the same chant. Separating from it is the only thing to do…to die…Thus the insanity, to justify the seduction that fooled us, suffering a life without the sacred touch, without power, a life which doesn’t sustain itself, can no longer go on. A pain, a non-peace, an absolute absence of the joy which would move us without any effort, in vigils and in dreams.
The Great Secret of Life
I want to give people a chance to understand the essence of the ancient ones, the great secret of Life, which is no secret… it has merely been abandoned for the misery of all beings.
It is the great human right that is not present in any declaration of the current authorities. The reality is we are alive now. Arutam is in everyone. What else could be done? To entertain this reality is to be seduced by the dark tendencies, being moved lastly by consolidated dark spirits, dwelling a many-sided and severely deranged being, demented and supported by other sick ones, infected, forced, and subdued through similar methods. What happens is the sharing of the disease in groups, organizing themselves, makes the dementia worse - which is now justified on the inside and the outside. Without the grace of Arutam, waters make us sick, light harms us, food is dead, air can kill us… Yes, it is difficult to remember in this place, it is the chant of dark spirits. But even now, look, is your mind trying to justify itself again, with some sort of forgotten anxiety with no recognisable origin?
Finding One's Truth
Each day covers me in an opportunity, reminding me what pure delight I am. The art grows from the natural inspiration of being alive in everything. No shamanism can be learned, without listening to the Great Chant of Life.
Everyone must find the magical relationship which numbs the dark seduction of the world of medicine that nobly bewitches the man of power. Holy land teaches us in profound enchantment that all understanding brings one to the perfect Union, Great Perfection, Absolute Sense, Spirit of everything, Great Sensation! This is the last step that every man has to take, every place that he must find to finally understand and let himself loose in the truth. We must learn how to look after the sacred touch and all its manifestations, to take the entire world in that one feeling.
The man being all Spirit in a land filled with his feeling is called a Shaman. That is the great meaning of the pure living palace in the jungle, where I live, where I teach, where I enchant, where I heal, where I transmit, where I make one remember.
Deep spells everywhere hiss in a tender caress of life in this land that salutes power. Arutam you feel, enchantment of melody and medicine, you pour precious drops, in white sharp walls filled with echoes. Are you whistling old hollow wood? Or are you dreaming dark tepid skin?
Arutam, your sacred presence is in all things, singing in delightful ecstasy. Custodians of the elders, old legends settled in you, handing out the light from the sky in tender growing caress… The water follows the light and blue sky, blue spills in silver crystals, silver at night, golden during the day, golden light, gold that shines…that is power. Tumank, meanwhile are you glinting? Enchanted world, you cast spells in sweet intoxication; to look after your sacred touch is to understand the passages of dreams and the feelings of hearts. Water Tumank that some eyes wet, is the water from the stones that I drink in the morning? Or the sweet fruit of rain, sweet cane, sweet earth which wets some lips in profound echoes of art? Blue bird, but if these are your feathers, with mauve edges, the ones that cut the wind and call upon you to whistle to accompany the rhythm, wait, ding, ding…
Or is it day? White morning in your sacred trance, Great Perfect Clarity that contains everything, from there I move towards the dark water, path of blue chants which hug in feathers, as they feel themselves when they are born, a living that enchants of beauty. Dark river water, but what leaf spills its nectar after a night resting under the stars? Beautiful bowl, love upholds a Great Perfection, gleaming white light that I must shine even more. Intense morning, as you grow, master from the sky and the afterlife, strong grandfather, look after me under the love of your protection. White light, such a spell contains a world full of life in a great unique perfection of joy! That sings because I wake up in the true feeling, and that has medicine.
White Chicha, sweet earth and living water, birth of a being that makes a body fill with life to jump into a world which won’t stop feeling. Make beauty for everyone and share, this is love and strength. To choose, in a world of infinite expressions, the most delicate notes, savouring a life which stimulates the claws of sense to dance.
Learn from the elders, from living memory, to be more precise, better hunters. Savour a feeling with all of our being, this reminds us of life and stimulates us. Lift some logs and twigs, keep the concentration uncorrupted, the flow of life and its healing tepidness, the fire which goes day and night. A family which celebrates together a strong feeling that does not leave and will always remain. An intoxicated rest in the eternal trance, a mystic orchestration that intones while the horizon bleeds, that joins Tobacco and man in sacred contemplation and art. Arutam screams in the sky, on the earth and in the being of men - the living instrument perfectly tuned in by the Great Being.
The hunting spirits now awake, we sleep to dream of them and give ourselves power. Intense in the light of Arutam, the night makes them see. Only the awakened Shaman sings to them in all power.
The animal’s squeak shares a jungle which in sacred touch casts a spell upon the world and all its corners, mysterious corners that Arutam in his own enchantment sees.
Profound spells hiss in tender caress of life, everywhere in this land that salutes power. Arutam you feel, enchantment of melody and medicine, you spill precious drops which smile in white sharp walls filled with echoes. Do you whistle old hollow wood? Or do you dream, dark tepid skin? Arutam, your sacred presence is in all things and chants in delightful ecstasy.