Cacao Ceremony Impressions

My journey started early in the morning, when after a cup of tea, I caught the bus to Glasgow, followed by the train to Edinburgh. With just a few days before Christmas, it is bewildering to wander on the streets: people coming and going; children carrying bags of sweets; mothers carrying children; fathers hurrying with massive boxes of toys; lovers observing the ferment of Christmas; teenagers passing hastily with endless bags of justarrived clothes and feelunique sparkly makeup; beggars and artists; all melting in that buoyant landscape.

The air was crisp, and the streets were filled with the warm smell of cinnamon, oranges and euphoria. In this frenzy of happiness, I started floating about Edinburgh, attempting to find the right bus, the right bus stop, the right amount of money in my purse, the right street I have to get off, the right things to say. But it did not take too long, and I was finally at the centre where the ceremony was to be held. 

I am a truthful cacao addict, but the idea of a cacao ceremony never crossed my mind. The word “ceremony” did not help much either. I imagined some kind of gathering where people laughed drinking some kind of hot chocolate and telling some kind of jokes and stories. But when I entered the room, I realised I was shamefully mistaken. The room was enveloped in a profound silence. In the middle, a paraphernalia of candles, dried plants, sand, crystals and of course, the cacao drink - hot, the smell slowly infiltrating my mind and body. 

I realised this was serious and also that I am the most inexperienced in the room. I have meditated before, but I have never considered myself fully initiated. I set my yoga mat and waited, observing the people around me: the perfect postures and complete deepness they were absorbed in, the enchanting harmonium and a superb voice dispersing in the room. And so, I slowly became part of the landscape. I let the music diffuse into every cell of my body: the didgeridoo with its rooted sound undulating around me; the harmonium fluttering, pervading every single corner of the room; the chimes scattering gentle stars. The cacao drink - a delicious combination of vanilla, cayenne pepper, coconut sugar and other plants - was lingering to every single portion of my body. 

For the first time in my life, I did not think about anything. I did not think about the long journey back home, the agitation of the past weeks, the utter loneliness and hopelessness I sometimes feel, the days of enormous happiness and extreme dysphoria all in a matter of ten seconds. I focused merely on the tremor of the room, on the velvety feel inside my body, on the silent hum of the world outside rolling and rolling. For the first time, I felt my hands and feet touching the humid ground and my lungs breathing in every single passing second. I felt every chemical reaction taking place in my body right there, right in that moment. I was completely aware of myself. And for the first time, I felt unlonely. I had myself, I had all those people around me, and I had the whole world, the whole universe. 

People tend to think that meditation and spiritual ceremonies will bestow you with world-saving epiphanies and ingenious revelations. But it is all so much simpler than that. The most beautiful thing that happened during the ceremony was being myself. In this chaotic world, surrounded by internet, social media, advertising, we forget to be ourselves. We forget to breathe. We forget to take a moment, look around and have complete awareness of where we are, of who we are. And it may all sound like a hefty cliché be yourself, embrace life and all these overly used expressions when advertising energy drinks and things of that sort. But we are more and more detached of the world. I realised how enclosed in my ignorance I have been. I simply forgot to live, always thinking about what needs to be done next or recapitulating the same past thing over and over in my mind. 

I also realised that you do not need to know how to meditate. You close your eyes, you breathe and you fixate on your body and on the physical elements surrounding you; you empty your mind and you purely exist. For me, that was enough and I do not know when three hours passed. When it was all over, a strange thing happened. I slowly rose to my feet and started dancing a most bizarre and comical dance. I let go of everything: of all stress and negativity accumulated over the years, of the tiredness and sadness, of everything that was not me but was lingering in my soul. Each one of us in the room danced, an amalgamation of bodies, colour, beauty and emancipation as the room and the music became alive. At the end, we all shared food that we made at home and talked as if we were childhood friends. 

It is all a bit ironic how in a room full of strangers, in a city I do not know, in a place I felt I did not belong at first, I became so conscious of my mind and body and I discovered a stillness that I will strive to keep for a long time.