The path of the Uwishin is one of the branches of the ancient sacred art of Shamanism: a place, a time, an experience, an inheritance, art, plants, instruments… It is the elegance of the ancient men from the waterfall town and their white arts that cared for and honoured life. Ancient ones would go to the waterfalls to listen to Arutam’s supreme voice, they also received His advice to walk their lives in the best possible way. The young ones would thus commence their initiation rites, remind themselves if they had forgotten, or learn the arts of their culture to honour the power. Long stories and surprising mastery comprised the sacred art of the great leaf of all time and mysteries: Tobacco. Time, man, and Floripondio, deep visions turning the future of a life into blood, whispering the forces of this land in every corner. Natem (Ayahuasca), means to transmit power by the Uwishin, whom in their sacred ability, art, and intense presence of the sacred touch, intensifies the presence of life in their equals. In their art they guide to soften the resistance and guide towards the final Union. Thus, remembering and bringing Arutam’s plenitude heals and elevates accomplished men. Long are the descriptions of endless stories, lives of elders whom, as pillars, my own life has helped to uphold so much, unswerving and lived examples of what it is and always will be. Mysterious indescribable arts, only understood in Arutam: the mastery of the Uwishin.

My grandfathers looked at herbs – and by that I mean plants, flowers, and trees – and they watched the seasons in which they were born and how they related to the world in different moments and places. By doing this, they learned the reasons behind their existence and peculiarities. They examined closely their taste, texture, temperature, different parts, odours, and colours. Great spirits full of meaning in a world full of sense. Great personalities, white of light and delight, a feeling they won’t abandon, delights them in the passing of the ages. Man, darkened, stumbling at each step in his frailty, absent of the sacred touch, breaks fortuitously. Time hurts him, and the elements of the world torture him in a sick relationship. Our beloved plants in their teas conserve the memory of their perfect lives. Herbs bring a small portion of the sacred touch to our blood and educate us. Although the sacred touch is unique, sometimes it can be remembered like this. Mastery is to understand the patient and bring the memory of the herbs-world closer to the decadent man. Years of observation and meditation in the depths of feeling this world show us these mysteries of our nature.