Growing up alternatively spiritual (Part 4)

A limpieza to remember, continued.

Nov 24, 2023

This is a continuation of an ongoing serial about what it was like growing up with a curandera for an Abuelita. Today, I will continue to talk about limpiezas and how they played a role in our familial dynamics.

Get ready for even more curanderismo stuff! Before that though, I’m going to share some notes I received about Part 3 — but if you can no longer sit in suspense, skip on down to the story! (I won’t blame you one bit!)

Boy oh boy, do I have some notes for y’all —

One quick note I received from my middle brother, Adam: He would like me to fully share what his limpiezas were like. (He feels I have glossed over this. Fair enough, brother of mine. Fair enough.)
A check-in with the elders of the family. I think this is obvious but I’ll be explicit here — they are deceased. I feel very fortunate to have received a message from them from “beyond the veil.” (Thanks, Sonia!!)
An inquiry and suggestion from one of my Tías. (From the other side of the family actually.)

Let’s tackle these one at a time.

1. Adam’s limpiezas

My apologies for short-changing you, Adam. (I just didn’t think it was particularly flattering to share so I thought I was saving you some grief or embarrassment — apparently, I don’t know you as well as I thought!)

In regard to Part 3, he said, verbatim, “USE MEEEEEE I WANT TO BE (IN)FAMOUS.”1

Welp, alright Adancito!

Adam, I love you, and are so earthly, so of this earth — it’s wild to think about you participating in this alternatively spiritual context. Nonetheless, you still stamped your unique mark on this world as you do with everything in life.

Little Adam was always very obedient and willing in a limpieza, like the rest of us. He would stand or sit where he was told. He would hold a candle, be covered in incense smoke, and allow his head and shoulders to be smothered in perfumed oil. No questions asked. He was a precious child, good-natured and self-sufficient. But the only thing, the only thing, that made me kind of nervous about Adam was what happened during these limpiezas.

His limpiezas were always a nail-biter for me. He would take his place in the chair and I would hold my breath. Why? Because his limpiezas were, by far, the longest sessions I ever witnessed! And I have seen quite a few.

And why did they take so long?

Well. If you recall, I mentioned in Part 3 the process of treating susto (a.k.a., intense fright or “emotional shock”), and its resulting “soul loss,” by way of oración (a.k.a., prayer healing):

“what I do remember involves the portion of the oración in which Abuelita “calls back” the soul of the person. She would call back the soul, chanting, “ven a tu carne” (a.k.a., “come back to your body”), over and over and over until it finally returned. Sometimes it would take a while. Other times the soul returned fairly quickly, not raising much of an alarm.”

Yeah, the part about taking a while — that’s what would happen a lot of the times when little Adam would get a limpieza. And it used to scare me so bad as a kid.

I wouldn’t be able to take my eyes off of him until the limpieza was finally over. I would tense up when the “taking a while” quality of the limpieza started. I’m sure I didn’t start breathing normally until la luz (a.k.a., the soul) finally did come back to his body. In my silent panic, I’m think I even started unconsciously praying to will his soul back.

Wowee. What a trip it was. Every time.

And I never really found out why la luz took so long to return to his body. At least, no one ever told me.

— There ya go, Adancito! Pleasant dreams! (I jest, I jest.)

2. The elders

Since writing about the intimate details of the family’s spiritual inclinations, I have not felt any disturbance, agitation, or pronounced concern from the eldest family members who have passed on. But, I wanted to confirm this to be so. And last week I made sure to remember to ask Sonia during our weekly business meeting/psychic reading. With the help of Sonia, I asked: in general, what they thought about the newsletter? How was it going, in their opinion?

From my Abuelita (yes, the Abuelita): “She likes it. She likes the attention.” Love to hear it.

From my Bisabuelita (a.k.a, great-grandmother), the mother of Abuelita: no word. Why? Because, “she’s not here. She’s at rest. She’s at peace.” Good for you, Bisabuelita!

From my Bisabuelito (a.k.a., great-grandfather), the father of Abuelita: “He has no opinion on it, one way or the other. He sees everything as inevitable. His children are gifted, which he always knew. And he doesn’t get why people seem to be separating the teachings of Catholicism and curanderismo — to him, they are one and the same.” Which, considering he has pretty aloof in past readings, was incredible to hear!

3. Another Tía

Let’s call her my “Piscean Tía.” She asked a couple of fantastic questions after reading Part 3: where in Mexico was the templo (a.k.a., temple) from which Abuelita received her curanderismo training? And if that templo’s training comes from a much older (maybe more indigenous) spiritual tradition?

Great questions — I have no idea.

Not for certain, at least. While I might not currently know where the original templo was located, I do know that curanderismo is considered a folk healing practice that blends,

“a mixture of beliefs derived from Aztec, Spanish, spiritistic, spiritualistic, homeopathic, and modern, ‘scientific’ medicine” (Maduro 1983).2

Piscean Tía also had the wonderful suggestion, after generously reading my little newsletter, that you dear reader might be interested in learning about the history of curanderismo in Mexico.

I couldn’t agree more, Tía! I absolutely plan to explore the roots of curanderismo here with you. I look forward to researching and sharing.

And now, on to the story!

Previously on café de olla…

“My younger brother, about 5 or 6 years old, stepped forward and obediently hoisted himself onto the chair. The chair that’s much too big for him. Abuelita gives him the candle to hold. The candle that’s much too large for his small hands.
Now.
This was when things got really interesting…”

A limpieza to remember (how it ended)

(Disclaimer: permission have been granted by family members to replicate this story for publication.)

a lit candle in the dark with a dark background

The tension from Adam’s limpieza has passed and a new sensation has settled in the room. My younger brother is the youngest grandchild of Abuelita’s and as I would later learn, the most gifted out of the three of us. Thanks to Sonia, I found out that Abuelita knew this too.

My younger brother looks comfortable enough but his eyes are full of wonder. He’s always had the dreamy look on his face, like he’s processing a lot more information than people gave him credit for at this age.

He knows instinctually to sit still and remain quiet. Abuelita starts the limpieza.

She says her oraciónes, she looks at the space above his auburn haired head, she’s focused. Calm. As to be expected, she starts chanting and calling back la luz (a.k.a., the soul) to my younger brother’s body. Her voice remains steady and sure. Even as she starts to pick up on something. Something different.

A minute or two has passed.

Mid-oración, she announces it. She’s figured out what that “something” is.

— It’s another spirit.

What, I silently say to myself as my brow deeply furrows on my adolescent face.

It’s the spirit of an old woman, Abuelita states sagely via Mom’s translation. An old woman who has been following la luz of my younger brother.

Why?

Because she likes it.

She likes it so much, she’s decided to hang around…

My younger brother is sitting extra still at this point. Mom is focused on methodically translating Abuelita’s analysis. And I am watching in awe. I’m riveted. Not to mention, a little disturbed. And while nothing in the room would indicate that there was another spirit or presence among us, I couldn’t help but feel anxious. The anticipation of Abuelita’s next move hangs in the air.

Completely taken aback, I might have impulsively asked why this old woman was hanging around my younger brother. Abuelita answered me with the patience of a monk. Mom translates, “Some spirits find the souls of children to be particularly attractive. La luz de niños (a.k.a., the souls of children) are very bright and pure and big. They like that. So, they’ll stick around the soul or spirit of a child to be around it.”

I’m more than a little disturbed now. My face must have been a picture. I think I might have even froze, trying to process what Mom just said.

Abuelita analyzes the situation a bit more now. Mom further translates, “But the old woman doesn’t want to hurt him. She’s just following him because she really likes his luz. But she’s not malicious.”

Uh huh, I think to myself suspiciously, hardly comforted.

Lucky for all of us, Abuelita knows exactly what to do. She expertly takes care of the situation in a process that I imagine involved detaching the old woman from my younger brother.

And fairly quickly, everything is right again in the world. Mom looks satisfied with Abuelita’s work.

And I unfreeze.

But I’ll never forget what my younger brother was able to attract nor what Abuelita was able to do for him. Whew, am I glad we got our limpiezas that day!

I’m sorry for the week long delay, thanks so much for patience! And thank you as always for reading. Join me next time for Part 5 when I will be sure to share some resources for further reading and study.

Thanks so much for stopping by today! Hope everyone is enjoying their holiday break.

With cariño,

Maribel

This is another installment in a series focused on the retelling of my childhood experiences, specifically recounting how I grew up in an alternatively spiritual family. You can read the previous parts here: