From Cigarette to Sacred Pipe 3: A Door Opens Slowly

This article is part of a series dedicated to transforming the relationship with tobacco and the encounter with the sacred pipe. You can read the previous article: From the cigarette to the sacred pipe: my journey with tobacco and soon discover the following article: From the cigarette to the sacred pipe 2: in the hands of the invisible

The Keepers

Listening to an elder

A week later, when I was at a dead end, Jim Tree wrote to me. He had received my message, knew some Hopi elders, and wanted to talk to me, to schedule a video chat.

It was unexpected.

For months, I had been sending silent appeals, like messages in a bottle. Nothing. No response. The desert. And then, that day, when I felt I was at the end of a dead-end road, an answer came. His message was simple, direct, but filled with astonishing kindness. He was opening a door for me.

It was like a breath of fresh air after a long breath hold.

My heart began to pound. I sat up, my eyes brimming, and whispered a simple, "Thank you."

It wasn't just an answer.

It was an invitation.

A passage.

We agree to meet the following week. In the meantime, I immerse myself in his book, The Way of the Sacred Pipe , which I want to have finished before our meeting.

When the day of the Zoom meeting arrives, a slight nervousness grips me. I turn on the screen. And there I see a simple, unpretentious man with a gentle, attentive gaze. He greets me warmly, without any formality. Very quickly, I feel confident.

He speaks with the quiet clarity of those who have nothing left to prove. Each word is measured, inhabited, without seeking to convince. He doesn't transmit knowledge, he shares a presence. His humility touches me deeply, a true humility, the kind born of experience, of trials endured, and of silences accepted. Of those who know that wisdom is not imposed: it is deposited gently, when the heart is ready.

We talk for a long time. About the Hopi, Grandmother Medicine Song , the Sacred Pipe, about what I felt during the ceremony. He listens to me with full attention, without interrupting, without judgment. I feel that I can be fully myself, with my questions and my doubts. Everything can exist there, in this space of respect and truth.

He doesn't offer to make me a Sacred Pipe, nor teach me the way of the Sacred Pipe. He doesn't give me any method, any shortcut. He simply says: Call your Pipe. Visualize it. Invite it. These words strangely remind me of those in Grandmother Medicine Song . This time, they were no longer tinged with disappointment but carried a key that one finds deep within oneself.

I understand then that nothing will come from the outside. That this path requires patience, faith, and listening. That the call must come from within, again and again, until the answer manifests. Not because I want it, but because the time will come.

Between confidences and sharing

One day, during one of those long conversations where time fades away and we tell each other everything without filter, I speak with Heather, I thank her again, it is she who gave me the name of this precious book.

I confide everything to her, with the sincerity one reserves for friends: Jim Tree 's invitation to the Sacred Pipe ceremony, our video chat, this new light that has lit up in me, this hope that I thought was lost.

We then talk about my journey since the beginning of this somewhat crazy quest for the Sacred Pipe. I mention a key piece of the story: Thomas.

Thomas is the man Grandmother Medicine Song chose to make my Sacred Pipe, the same man who crafted Satya's. But since he moved to Arizona, no one has heard from him. Heather admits she doesn't know if he's still making Sacred Pipes. She smiles, then says to me, simply:"Here's Thomas's email. You never know, maybe one day you want to write to him directly..."

I smile back, I thank her, I treasure this contact. Maybe one day, when the time is right, I'll write to him.

In that same spirit, I book a plane ticket to Miami. It's time for me to go find Grandmother Medicine Song . Perhaps together we can shed light on this story of the Sacred Pipe, this still mysterious path, this desire that continues to grow.

A new goalkeeper

Shortly after, I receive another invitation from Jim Tree to participate in a Sacred Pipe ceremony. The atmosphere is gentle and respectful. I recognize some of the faces I'd seen at the previous ceremony. Little by little, I discover the community surrounding Jim.

I've often perceived circles as subtle mirrors: they reflect the soul of the one who calls them. As if the Spirit that inhabits a medicine man were gently unfolding in space, imbuing the encounter with its silent wisdom. Around Jim, this manifests itself with great accuracy. The beings around him carry this vibration: simplicity, authenticity, a naked presence, without artifice. We feel that the heart has its place here. That the word is true. And that the relationship is woven from a deep place. This touches me, like an invisible recognition of what I have long sought.

A few days later, during another conversation with Jim, he tells me about Martha, a woman who carries a very special pipe: the Grandmother Moon Pipe, a woman's pipe. This is no ordinary pipe, but a pipe born from a vision received by Jim's grandmother, Grandmother Lillian Windrider. A pipe dedicated to women, linked to the lunar cycle, and to the power of the woman’s sacred monthly moontime.

Jim speaks to me about Martha with warmth and gentleness, evoking a circle of women where kindness and conviviality reign. "I have the impression that the women have fun there," he confides with a smile in his voice. He senses that this space could be a place of welcome and sharing for me.

He then suggested that I talk to Martha about myself, and invited me to contact her directly, via Facebook.

A few hours later, a message pops up in my inbox: it's Martha. I join this virtual circle, this Facebook group, like a new door slowly opening to another world, another family.

A Sacred Pipe ceremony for women

The next day, everything changes.

Grandmother Medicine Song falls. A bad fall. Her ankle is shattered into several pieces. The lesson I was supposed to receive from her the next day is canceled.

At the moment, I'm shaken. Worried about her, and a little disoriented. But I also perceive, in the background, this slight shift in destiny, this subtle way life has of rearranging paths without warning.

This setback suddenly opens up an opportunity. And in this vacant space, another invitation awaits me. I can join the Sacred Pipe ceremony with Martha.

This is my first ceremony with her… and my first immersion in this circle of women. Very different from Jim Tree's. Here, it's another language, another vibration. More intimate. More rounded. Definitely more feminine.

In this circle, we talk, we exchange, we confide. The women open up to each other with gentleness, simplicity, sometimes with humor. There is something deeply comforting, almost ancestral, in this way of being together. It reminds me of the moon huts, those sacred spaces where women, in the past, retreated to bleed, pray, share, cry, laugh. This circle carries that memory, in silence, in gestures, in words.

I smile, after so much waiting, so many prayers, so many detours… A path opens. Slowly. Humbly. But it is there. I am filled with gratitude for this gift the Universe offers me. And in this gratitude, Jim Tree is there. He is the one who put me on the line to Martha. He is the one who opened this new door.

Keepers of the sacred moon

The journey of mourning

Grandmother's health only gets worse.

I am worried.

A week after her fall, Grandmother Medicine Song "dropped her robe."

She left her body, as the ancient Hopi say, to rise up to the stars.

I write to Jim, who tells me that on the fourth day he will hold a crossing over ceremony for her, as is Hopi tradition.

Once again, I am touched by his thoughtfulness. In this simple gesture, Jim demonstrates a greatness of soul. His faithfulness in honoring the rites and his commitment to the spirit world reveal a vast and generous heart. This event brings me back to the sacredness of the cycle of life, to the immensity of the void its absence creates, but also to the continuity of the invisible bond that unites beings beyond the veil.

And I think back to that meeting with Jim, a few weeks before Grandmother left. There's something about that synchronicity that still moves me today. As if the universe, in its secret wisdom, had already begun to weave a new form of guidance. As if it had placed Jim on my path so that I wouldn't be an orphan. So that the voice of the elders would continue to whisper in my ear. So that the memory of the sacred would remain alive, embodied, transmitted.

I am in the sadness of mourning.

A mourning that is not just a pain, but a passage.

A deep wave that runs through my whole being.

There is shock, loneliness, tears.

There is also this strange kind of peace, that of knowing that she is free.

Her body, so courageous, rested.

Her soul, so vast, was freed.

The silence she leaves behind is not an empty silence.

It is populated with echoes, memories, lessons.

She speaks to me in the wind, in the fire, in the stars.

She asks me to listen to her differently.

It pushes me to welcome absence as another form of presence.

(A longer version of this crossing is shared in my article

When a Star Rises: A Tribute to Grandmother Medicine Song , available on the blog.

A journey reoriented by the invisible

Despite Grandmother's departure, I decide to continue my trip.

I can't get a refund for the ticket... but above all, something inside me says, "Go anyway." I feel that, even if this trip won't be the one I imagined, I am called to experience it. I choose to trust. I tell myself that I will be guided. And in this new void left by her absence, I have the subtle feeling that Grandmother will be there, in a different way. Present in the signs, in the encounters, in the synchronicities.

So I open up.

I start listening.

I welcome the change of direction.

I open my inner senses wide to discern what seems right.

During a Pipe ceremony led by Martha, my second with her, one thing came to me: " I have to go to Los Angeles to meet her in person."

I wrote to her shortly after.

She answers me with warmth and simplicity.

She will welcome me with joy. I am delighted.

Slowly, a new thread opens.

A guided thread, woven from souls and presences.

I decide to start in Miami, to meet up with some of my parents' friends I haven't seen since I was five. Then I head up to northern Florida to meet Lee, Grandmother's loyal collaborator. Finally, I cross the country to Los Angeles. To meet Martha, and also to reconnect with a longtime friend.

In this new organization, things are taking shape with a certain synchronicity, a great beauty. As if the universe, through each step, was telling me: " You are not alone ."

A face-to-face meeting

We find Martha in a coastal town California.

A charming place, between the sea and the hills, bathed in soft light. My longtime friend accompanies me. The three of us meet up for lunch at the restaurant.

I let them talk a lot.

I prefer to listen, to observe.

Observe Martha, her way of being, her posture, her gaze.

I feel that, like me, she feels, perceives, weighs every word.

Between us, there is at first a form of restraint. We are two women who stand humbly but strong in our own medicines and who seek to know: Where is the other? What place does she hold in the circle of the sacred?

I brought her tobacco from the Amazon jungle, a tobacco that I carried carefully throughout the journey, to offer to her. During this journey, at each stage, I made offerings of tobacco.

To thank the Spirits, to thank Grandmother, to call upon her guidance. It is the Spirit of Tobacco who carried me, supported me, and enlightened me on this path between the visible and the invisible.

As the hours and exchanges pass, the distance disappears.

Words are circulating.

We discover each other.

We share our paths, our way of serving, our relationship with the sacred.

Each one tries to walk with harmony and accuracy, in humility and respect for traditions.

We also talk about the cracks, the challenges, what is still in motion.

We don't try to appear perfect.

It is a real meeting, where we listen and dare to speak.

Between the three of us, a space of sincerity opens up.

We laugh. We listen. We respect each other.

Then comes the time to say goodbye.

We don't know what the future will bring.

But the meeting took place.

She was offered, welcomed and honored.

An inner call

When I returned from the United States, Martha and I shared a moment on video.

Our meeting in person opened a new space between us. Something was woven that day, a thread of trust, a silent recognition. It's not yet an old bond, but it's there, solid and humble.

During our conversation, she invites me to come to Pipestone, on the Red Earth, for a gathering around the Sacred Pipe. I smile, touched by the invitation.

I said to him, almost letting the Spirit answer for me: “ Why not? ”

I ask her the name of the nearest airport, curious, intrigued.

After our conversation, I look at the plane tickets. The prices are well above what I can afford. So, I gently close the door.

But unknowingly, Martha planted a seed. This simple invitation awakened something within me, a deep desire to continue walking with the Sacred Pipe. As if Spirit had whispered through her, " This is not the end, it is the beginning. "

The guardian of the sacred plant

The last piece of the puzzle

Since I met Martha, something has changed.

The Sacred Pipe is no longer a distant vision or an echo of the past.

She is there, very close…

But one question remains.

A piece is missing from the painting.

And it is not found in the United States, nor in my recent encounters.

Because almost two years ago, during a stay in Peru, Tobacco was taken away from me.

A healer, Tabaqueros, told me that I could no longer touch tobacco.

That if one day I wanted to bring him back into my life, I would have to go back and see him.

It is he who would ask the Spirit of Tobacco whether it is possible, or not, to renew this sacred bond.

Since then, his words have resonated like a suspended prophecy.

I feel like the time has come to write this email.

To take the step.

Simply asking the question: “ Can I put tobacco back into my life?”

I want to explain to him

My call to carry the Sacred Pipe.

That I have respected all the restrictions he has imposed on me for two years.

And also this persistent feeling: that the path remains blocked, perhaps precisely because I must first receive the agreement of Tobacco. Not a simple symbolic agreement, but a real passage. An inner rite.

I reach for this last piece of the puzzle.

I am sending my email in the hope that the Tabaqueros will give his permission.

TO BE CONTINUED…

I invite you to also read the previous articles to learn more : From the cigarette to the sacred pipe: my journey with tobacco ; From the cigarette to the sacred pipe 2: in the hands of the invisible

Share your experience, your feelings, your journey in the comments. Together, we weave the world's prayers and learn to walk in righteousness, respect, and sacred connection.

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