Limpia: A Mayan Cleansing Ceremony in Stonehaven, Scotland

Here I am standing barefoot on the earth, eyes closed, palms open, in full trust of the process that’s unfolding. I have been blessed with the smoke of copal, brushed down with a bundle of fresh herbs, negative energies drawn out of me by the powers of an unfertilised egg, and an obsidian blade has been drawn across my energetic field to cut the remaining threads to all that I’m here to shed, all while the health of my spirit and body have been prayed for by my guide, Luzura.

And now I’m bare skinned and goose-bumped; in part down to the moments that have just passed, and in part due to the cool Scottish summer breeze carried through the woods by the river. The surroundings are serene and I feel more intimately part of it, part of nature, without my clothes. It occurs to me that this is the first time I’ve ever been completely naked outside in the country I was born in, the place I call home. I consider the shame we’re made to feel simply for existing in our skin. I mourn the moments that were robbed from me by the unspoken rules of society; the moonlit skinny dips, feeling the sun on my bare chest, indulging in the urge to curl up nude in a blanket of moss on a warm day (I’m not the only one, right?).

I snap back to now, to the sound of my own breath, gasping for air. Cold water infused with rose and wildflowers pours over my head and down my back. I try to slow my exhales but the air forces itself back into my lungs with another gasp. And another. And another. A smile and a sigh can’t help but emerge from my lips; an expression of pure bliss and a noticeable shift, the lifting of the weight from my shoulders as the water washes away the shame and doubt I came here to release.  

When I open my eyes again, Luzura is standing in front of me. We smile at one another, and I feel so seen. Not exposed, deeply seen. Luzura brushes off the flower petals that have clung to my wet skin, dries off my limbs and wraps me in a rebozo, a Mexican shawl that they received from their Abuela, Sophia. 

They bring a vial of honey, infused with vanilla and rose, and place the dropper above my mouth, I catch a drop of sweet nectar on my tongue and feel my senses bloom, the plants around us somehow greener, the petals now resting on the earth around me, brighter. After we sit together and close the ceremony with hibiscus tea, Luzura buries the egg and the bundle of herbs into the earth. It makes me smile to think that the waste from my energetic cleansing will soon compost and become fertiliser for something more beautiful to grow.

I have just received a ‘Limpia’, or cleansing; a mayan ritual traditionally performed by a curandera/o (Mexican shaman or healer). The ceremony is intended to be held during moments of transition, marking the crossing of thresholds, cleansing the receiver of negative energies through the use of various tools, including herbs, sacred smoke, and an unbroken egg. The support of the elements and the four directions are called in through prayer as the curandera prays at each stage for the cleansing and healing of the recipient.

Having known nothing about the intricacies or intentions of this ceremony prior, in the days before I was due to visit my dear friend Luzura in the north of Scotland, I had dreamt of being held in ceremony in the forest, petals pressed into my back. It was one of those dreams that felt so lucid I woke up still in the embodiment of it. When I called to tell them about this dream and ask for their interpretation, Luzura said they felt they were being called to offer me a Limpia. This offering came just at the right time.

I’m on the precipice of a transition like no other in my life, about to uproot my life and move to another country, with a new culture and language, just as my parents are preparing to move out of the house I grew up in, knowing that I’ll never come back to the same ‘home’ (in the bricks and mortar sense) I once knew. 

It’s a time where I’m questioning the concept of home more and more. When I break it down, home isn’t a house, a place or a country, but a concept that evolves in form and function as we grow, and multiplies as we travel and carve home out of new corners of the world. While the concept of home will change many times over my lifetime, the most enduring home I’ll ever have, beyond the home I find within those I love (who step in and out of my life as our timelines overlap), is this body I inhabit; with me from my first breath until my last. 

When we speak of coming home to ourselves, I think we’re talking about shedding the perceptions and projections of everyone else, (of society, family, friends, partners), until what is left is so truly us, that we have this feeling of belonging, radical self-compassion and the freedom to express authentically within ourselves without fear of rejection. That’s home to me: a safe place of belonging and authentic expression, sheltered from — but with a door and windows to — everything that is external to us, just as a house protects us from the elements, allows us to be ourselves, but we can still make the choice to step outside. And so in a time where the external form of home is changing so rapidly, as if the floor has been whipped from under my feet like some kind of tablecloth magic trick, how can I take this as an opportunity to find home within myself, to truly come home to myself, without shattering the metaphorical glass of my body? 

As I enquired what it was that I wanted to cleanse myself of, it was just that, the perceptions and projections of others that have led me to feel shame or doubt in myself that I wanted to shed. Like so many others, through the external forces of society I have been led to feel shame in my body, in my nature, in my identity, in my curiosities and desires, in the very spirit of my being. All of that has planted a seed of doubt that clouds my intuition at times; I can know what feels right for me and yet pull back from it, doubting my own dreams and desires because I’ve been so deeply conditioned to believe that it’s not okay, shameful even, to be in my truest expression.

 Part of what I’m alluding to here is my sexuality and internalised homophobia. This is something I touched upon briefly in last months’ article on the need for queer spaces in yoga, and so it felt fresh in the centre of my awareness. In the days before the ceremony Luzura and I had discussed shame as one of the greatest drivers (or inhibitors) of behaviour; speaking into our shared experiences of queerness and the moments that had stopped us expressing our fullness. Part of releasing that shame involves shedding the doubt (doubt that we are not good enough, that we will not be accepted for who we are) that prevents us from showing up unapologetically as ourselves in our most authentic expressions. 

The night of the ceremony we closed with a candle blessing; a gratitude ceremony. Luzura anointed me with oils, marking each of my senses, and invited me to consider what I was grateful for. I gave thanks for goosebumps, among other things. I gave thanks for the messages we receive from our bodies that are pointing us towards the path that is right for us, and the ability not only to hear them but to listen, and if we’re brave enough, to act accordingly.    

Since the Limpia, I feel that I am coming home to my truest expression. Creative energy is bursting out of me, in poetry, in art, in ideas about life, the ways we can live and all the ways that love can be expressed. While the ceremony itself provided an energetic cleansing, it’s now up to me to polish the surface, to take the actions and honour the commitment I made to myself in that moment to shed the shame and doubt I was carrying, continuously releasing the stories that are not welcome in this next evolution of my life. 

It’s an ongoing process, but made all the more potent thanks to Luzura’s intuitive space holding and the tender moments we shared. I see so much beauty in this mayan medicine, a technology that is both ancient and living, being carried with care in the hands of healers across the world, a gift from one culture to another, to be transmitted and shared with those who are open to receiving it. With deep gratitude to Luzura, and their teacher Sophia, and all those who have passed this ritual down, for sharing this medicine. 

May we all continue to come home to ourselves.

Luzura (they/them) is a dancer and poet, neuro-somatic coach, guardian of cacao, weaver of words and sound. They have trained in Mayan Medicine and are also a trained sound healer, and movement guide with an eco-somatic approach. Luzura’s experience with FND (Functional Neurological Disorder) led them to explore various tools and methods for nervous system regulation, and as an experienced space-holder and intuitive guide, they are now incorporating these tools into their offerings.  You can find more information on their Instagram and Website.

For more information about Limpia -

https://www.theherbanalchemist.com/blogs/medicines-of-the-world/zapotec-healing-ceremony-limpia

https://www.instituteofshamanismandcuranderismo.com/what-is-a-limpia-spiritual-cleansing/