Acceptance and Forgiveness

In the chants that rise during ceremony nights, when copal embraces the air and the drums open portals, it is said that to accept is like planting corn under the sun: you must trust the cycle, even if the fruit is not yet visible.

The wise ones of the mountains say that forgiveness is like the prayer of water: it cleanses, softens, and transforms without harming. One who does not forgive is tied to the past like a tree clinging to its dry leaves. And one who does not accept walks with closed eyes, stumbling over their own shadow.

In the prayers of the Wixárika, in the circles of the Mazatec, in the jungles of the Yawanawa and Huni Kuin, the grandfather fire reminds us that everything that has happened is part of the sacred weaving. The jaguar does not ask permission to be a jaguar, and the river does not stop for those who curse it. In the same way, the heart must learn to flow—without guilt, without punishment.

To accept is to open the chest like a cacao flower at dawn. To forgive is to let the hummingbird drink from that flower—without fear, without resentment. When the spirit has been touched by the medicine, the soul longs to return to its truth. And that truth is simple: we become medicine when we stop denying our story and start honoring it.

🌿 In the circle of life, everything has its place. And forgiveness is not for the other—it is the song that frees our own wings.