CIRCLE OF THE SUN: A Prose Ethnography  

By Richard Ernest Mora (SeasUs.Land) 

In a small town, in Texas, here lies an ordinary neighborhood.  One that perhaps commuters’ travel to and from the city to gain lot exposure and natural landscape.  As it is tranquil in setting, as this open home and temple to those seeking comradery and guided meditation with ancient Maya treatments learned from travel and study.  Here in a circle in the latter part of a weekday evening, I sit with eight other men commencing a brotherly bond over a warm flute filled to the brim non-psychoactive Mayan cocoa from an all-female indigenous community.  This is the Circle of the Sun, and the cast is as follows:   

Directly across from me: 

Early twenties and on disability, a traveled individual carrying his own supply of psilocybin mushrooms.  He was later asked to hold a session on mantra for his extensive “om” knowledge.   

Fit scientific dad: 

Fascinated by numbers.  Corky humor.  Perhaps less exposed to millennial generation sexuality.  

Beautiful man with gold bracelets and back length hair: 

Most consciousness of members.  Welcomed all conversations and drew to himself to collapse any negative.  

Wooden flute player: 

Kind, and full of energy.  Emphatic with breathing exercises. 

 Sgt. At Arms (at my side): 

Informative, regulating and perhaps needed the expression of the church and mindfulness most of the group. 

Spiritual leader: 

Read all books in the library, reserved with speech and is faithful.  

Round man: 

Works from home and has kind eyes.  Displayed that ceremonies like this are positive enforcement for social anxiety.   

The exhibitionist: 

Universally attractive, and microdosed during session.  Moved sensationally throughout ceremony determining motion is solace.  

 

COCOA SACRAMENT CEREMONY   

After breathing exercises and stating intentions with our presence in the circle, the Spiritual leader proceeded to commence passing around the flutes of cocoa.  

Sgt. At Arms assertively verbalized instructions 

“Everyone will have eight minutes to speak.” 

Spiritual Leader “I know it seems like a long time, but you will see it goes by fast. And remember to leave room for reflections from the group” 

Sgt. At Arms “Unless you are not open to reflections.”  

The room was anxious to have the cocoa. It looked like a mocha in a champagne flute. When you held it to pass on, it was warm and frothy.  

The passing of cocoa totaled ten. Leaving one for the spirits resting on the fire mantel. Behind me was a comfortable feline without a tail and much of me began to ponder the effects of this sacrament that has been distributed as no disclosures were made, and all that arrived are volunteer. 

Soft rhythmic music played from a phone and almost tardy out of hesitancy, Round Man offered,  

“I have my speaker.” 

Quickly the group agreed, “Yeah...” 

The lounge music played on. Looking at the library on the wall, and on a shelf above nearing the ceiling. Many debating conscious thought. There was no “cheers” or speech before we sipped the cocoa.  

Gradually everyone had an initiated taste. The Wooden Flute Player added that the “cocoa was really good,” and later, 

Spiritual Leader “It is sourced from a sustainable all women farm in Central America. And we go through about “$800” a month, which is why we have donations for this circle.” 

The donations are taken at the front door as it contributes to their protected 503(c)3 Non-Profit.  

Additionally, there are extensive communications on a ‘lower shelf’ social media platform where announcements for park gatherings and displays of reflections, while asking for prayers –accessible upon membership or special invitation only.  

Each member then proceeded to speak, in turn sharing honesty and doubt, and ambitions. Out of respect for the privilege of privacy, the eight-minute segment by the cast will not be shared specifically. Instead, it will be conveyed poetically. 

 

Mindfully linguistic, for a glimpse of the surrealistic  

Pathways are in motion. To move and to flow and feel emotion.  

We are roots to a tree, you cannot see.  

Inclusion of all, and how to Be is perhaps what appears sheer.  

To not judge, off the makeup will rub.  

Do not just accommodate or like, as rushed waters splash against a concrete dike.   

You will not know me, unless I show Me.  

You are here, because We are here.  

Solution to the over contribution. 

Plateaued asking for more? One should sit still and explore.  

Ask for this, and the galore.  

 Ask of why? Blushing and shy.  

Take all and have little or small.  

This is the message of the unwind. Do not question an honest mind.  

Do not pay to buy happy thoughts, but please claim your spots.  

Understand and register what you hear; listen without fear.  

Grey inclusive is taking in the dark with the light. Nothing is pure delight.  

In Doing so protected by this church, a sacrament found in search.  

 

ABSTRACT By: Richard Ernest Mora, SeasUs.Land LLC

Art by Anya Lewinski

Anthropology of Consciousness: Spring 2024

St. Louis, MO

"Into Darkness.  Into Light."