From cigarette to sacred pipe: my journey with Tobacco

When Prayer Takes Form

My personal journey with Tobacco

Some loves are born in confusion, some bonds are tied in the dark.

My story with tobacco began in the shadows — those of a teenage girl in search of recognition.

I lit my first cigarettes like one lights a fire in the night: to warm up, to belong, perhaps to be seen.

But I hadn’t yet understood that I was offering my sacred breath to a profaned relationship, one stripped of meaning and spirit.

When I was preparing for my first journey to Peru, everything was taken away from me: sugar, salt, alcohol, sex — all that distracts, agitates, disperses.

Except Tobacco.

Around me, surprise:

“Why this exception?”

But in Amazonian tradition, Tobacco is not an escape. Tobacco is a master plant, a great medicine.

Not an addiction, not a smoke to distract — but a Spirit that teaches.

I arrived in the jungle after 24 hours of travel, drained, disoriented, lost.

Someone handed me a Mapacho, that ritual cigarette with its acrid, dark taste, dense as the night. I took three puffs.

Then, without a word, I went to lie down.

Never had I smoked something so strong.

It felt as if the very Spirit of the forest had passed through my body.

An ancient breath from elsewhere, whispering to me: don’t play with me.

A master plant at the heart of the jungle

In traditional Shipibo medicine, Tobacco holds a central place.

As a master plant, a powerful spirit, it is used in many ways: smoked, blown, inhaled as a liquid through the nose, ingested to purify the body, or "dieted" in retreats of silence and isolation.

I discovered all of these forms.

I allowed myself to be approached by Tobacco medicine in all its many faces, until I felt a deep, visceral, ancient calling.

In Peru, some healers — called tabaqueros — work solely with Tobacco.

Men and women who dedicate their lives to walk beside this demanding Spirit.

They know its songs, its breaths, its silences.

They carry the prayers.

Far from the distorted uses of the West, they honor Tobacco as an ally of light, a guardian of true speech, a Spirit of wisdom.

Their path is strewn with trials and initiations, because to welcome the clarity of Tobacco, one must first meet their own shadows.

For when one relates to Tobacco without consciousness, it amplifies what is still wounded.

Those who walk this path must learn to journey with the Spirit of Tobacco in deep respect, guided by prayer, humility, and integrity.

On this path, one truth becomes clear: Tobacco reveals as much as it illuminates.

One must learn to recognize their own darkness, to befriend it, so as not to fall into the plant’s shadow side.

Tobacco, between shadow and light

In the jungle, they say that Tobacco is a plant that carries more shadow than light.

That’s why it is so often misused, distorted, stripped of its essence.

It teaches clarity, presence, truth — but it can also lead us astray if we connect to it without awareness, without reverence, without heart.

Like so many others, I fell into addiction.

And in those states, the connection becomes confused.

Tobacco is no longer a guide, but a fog.

Intention wavers, prayer is lost, the Spirit withdraws.

When I met a tabaquero, he asked me to stop all use of Tobacco — even in ritual contexts.

The Spirit of the plant could not teach me while parts of my shadow were still tied to its darker aspects.

It was both a physical and spiritual detox.

I had to cleanse myself, deeply.

In silence, in patience, in waiting, in love and in faith — the healing began.

I had to let go of all ties to the plant, to one day hope to reconnect with its light.

To rediscover the sacred path toward the Spirit of Tobacco.

Each day, I prayed to Tobacco.

I asked it to teach me how to walk with it in a right, balanced, sacred way.

I planted Hopi Tobacco seeds, Peruvian Mapacho, following the wise advice of Grandmother Medicine Song, to transform my relationship with the plant.

I watched them grow, like children of the sky.

Their leaves, their scent, their green breath…

Everything became an offering.

Everything became a prayer.

Spirit of Tobacco

A prayer without answer

In this sacred space of prayer, patience and care, I kept cultivating my relationship with Tobacco.

And then, one day, I felt it was right to ask for a Sacred Pipe.

A bridge between my personal path and the traditions of Indigenous peoples.

I shared with Grandmother Medicine Song something I had carried in my soul for a long time: the deep feeling that Tobacco had always been calling me, and that the time had come to honor that call.

She listened to me with loving silence.

Then she told me about Thomas, an artisan who had crafted Satya’s Pipe, whom I also learn from.

But Thomas had just moved, she said, and she didn’t know where life had taken him.

Despite this uncertainty, she promised to reach out to him — and most of all, she assured me of her presence and support in this sacred process.

Then came the weeks.

Then the months.

Silence.

No answer.

Emptiness.

Stillness.

Impatience mixed with trust.

One day, she simply said she couldn’t reach him.

And that absence of response became another form of teaching.

A reminder.

A call to patience, to faith, to perseverance.

To continue nurturing my relationship with the Spirit of Tobacco, expecting nothing.

Perhaps I wasn’t ready.

Perhaps my link with the Spirit of Tobacco still needed to be purified.

Perhaps something in me had yet to be released more deeply.

So I continued.

Day by day, in silence,

I kept that fragile flame alive.

I no longer prayed to receive,

but simply to walk.

Step by step, humbly, on this sacred path.

Answering the call of the Sacred Pipe

I didn’t know when or how the Pipe would come to me. But I began to understand that before being an object, it was a presence, a calling, a path of prayer.

Then life brought Jim Tree onto my path — a Sacred Pipe carrier and author of The Way of the Sacred Pipe. During a conversation, he offered me these words:

“Call the Pipe. Focus on her. Visualize her. Connect with an animal. Walk with her in Spirit.”

Until then, I had been focused entirely on Tobacco. But his words shifted my perspective: it wasn’t only Tobacco that was calling me — it was the Pipe herself.

A bridge between worlds, a sacred breath, a living offering.

So I began to meditate on her, to feel her, to call her without words.

She is the heart of the ritual.

The Pipe is the altar, the breath, the connection.

Thus, long before receiving one in the physical realm, I began weaving an invisible thread with the Sacred Pipe.

An intimate, silent relationship born of listening and reverence.

The Sacred Pipe, a living medicine

In the Indigenous traditions of North America, the Sacred Pipe — or chanupa in Lakota — is more than an object: it is a living being, an instrument of prayer, healing, and connection. It is gifted by the Spirits, passed on from heart to heart.

One does not possess it — one receives it.

It is made of two parts:

The bowl, often carved from the red Pipestone, represents Mother Earth, the feminine, the sacred container. Pipestone, extracted from sacred quarries in Minnesota, has been used for millennia to craft ritual pipes. It is revered for its deep connection with the Earth and its ability to carry prayers.

The stem, shaped from wood, represents the Sky, the masculine, the breath.

When these two elements unite, a new consciousness arises.

The breath becomes offering, the smoke becomes prayer.

Through sacred Tobacco, each puff becomes a bridge between worlds, an act of love and balance, offered to the directions, to the ancestors, and to all of Life.

A medicine of heart and connection

In Sacred Pipe ceremonies, we sit in circle.

We sit in silence.

We listen.

The chanupa is lit in prayer.

Each person receives in turn this breath from the heart of the Earth and stars.

It moves slowly.

It unites beings in a shared inner song.

It teaches presence, gentleness, and the responsibility of the word.

It is not about consuming Tobacco, but praying with it.

Each puff is an offering, each breath a clear intention:

a prayer, a thank you, a forgiveness, a gratitude, a blessing.

The Pipe connects us to the Creator, to the seen and unseen peoples, to the elements, to the ancestors.

It reminds us that we are children of the wind, the earth, the water, and the fire.

The Sacred Offering to the North

Why the Sacred Pipe is always offered

One does not choose to carry the Pipe.

It is the Pipe that calls.

It cannot be bought. It is received as a sacred gift. It is entrusted to the one who has walked with humility, silence, and commitment.

This gift is also a responsibility. For the chanupa is not an object of power, but a space of service. It comes with prayers, rituals, silences to be honored.

In my case, the Sacred Pipe came to me like a long whisper, a prayer waiting for its answer. It took time to reveal itself, to become visible.

But the seeds I had planted began to grow. The Hopi Tobacco and the Peruvian Mapacho sprouted together, in the same soil, nourished by the same song.

And the day will come when the Pipe is born in my hands—not through will, but because the Spirits have decided so.

Honoring the breath and the mystery

 

The medicine of the Sacred Pipe is an invisible dance between the Earth and the Creator.

An invitation to listen, to pray, to offer. It reminds us that each breath can become sacred when infused with awareness, love, and pure intention.

The chanupa does not try to convince. It lets itself be approached slowly, with patience and humility. It teaches without words. It heals without sound.

With it, I have learned not to force, to wait, to trust.

I have learned that true prayer asks for nothing but offers everything.

The medicine of Tobacco and the Sacred Pipe

If I share my story with you today, it is because in the West, Tobacco is often seen as a poison, a plague, a vice.

Yet Tobacco is not the enemy. It is a mirror. It shows us where we are—our relationship with the sacred, with addiction, with truth.

But it is not Tobacco that is bad.

It is our gaze, our relationship to it, that is unwell.

We have lost the ability to walk in right relationship with it.

And perhaps, more broadly, we no longer know how to walk in right relationship with the world.

In the Hopi creation story, it is said that our role as human beings is to honor the Creator. And to do so, we must remain connected—by dancing, singing, and praying.

How many of us still live this way?

How many of us still remember this sacred covenant with Life?

An invitation to walk with the breath

And you—what is your relationship with Tobacco?

Have you ever experienced a plant not as a substance, but as a teacher, a guide, a mirror?

I invite you to share your experience, your feelings, your journey—in the comments or during a circle.

Because it is together that we weave the world’s prayers. It is together that we learn to walk again—with rightness, respect, and sacred connection.

To go further

You are also welcome to join our community: a space of sharing, prayer, and connection with all that is alive.

I invite you to discover the teaching circles, drum healing sessions, and workshops I offer at Yoga With You Studio, inspired by ancestral traditions and this path of learning to live in harmony and to walk in a right and connected way.

It is still time to learn to listen—and to remember that all that lives can teach us.