Chalama - "colored ribbons tied to the branches of a tree in a sacred place called 'ovaa' as a sign of reverence for the universe, the grandeur, beauty, wisdom, nature – everything that we are happy to behold around us. "
...respect and tribute for Spirits of the
I dreamed I was in Asia, near the center of the continent, visiting the Tuvan People. The wide plain was aflame with sunset and I met the most curious man. He came out of nowhere with a slight smile on his face. The smile was for me.
He could have been a walk-in, a medicine man, a ghost, a vagabond. I never did find out. But he invited me to a sacred ceremony. He pointed to the far hills and said when it was dark enough and the fire was lit, the ones who'd been called would assemble. I was intrigued but knew not how to traverse the empty plain and the great distance to attend. He assured me it didn't matter. If I felt I was called, there would be a way.
He turned and walked into the sun. I lost sight of him but his words stayed with me. Feeling the impulse, I walked after him, not even thinking of where I might be going. By the time twilight faded into night, I saw a fire and figures moving about. I joined them in the circle. No words were said. The man with the slight smile came around to each one of us. He brought kind eyes and a cup. One by one we drank the ceremonial brew.
The whole setting reminded me of Ayahuasca ceremonies in South America I had attended. But this was Central Asia. And the song the elder started to sing was not an icaro - but with the medicine flowing, it sounded like one.
If icaros were sung by Tuvan wise men, I knew this is the way it would sound.
The song flowed through me. I flowed into the song.
I released into the night. And the night released into me.
By the time the song was nearly done, I had met the Spirit of the Land.
And the message was clear.
...here's where it comes from: