Meeting the Curandera: “Woman Who Glows in the Dark”

Many years ago, reading an issue of Publishers Weekly, I came across a review of a book on “curanderismo” called:  Woman Who Glows in the Dark: A Curandera Reveals Traditional Aztec Secrets of Physical and Spiritual Health, by Elena Avila, with a foreword by the famous Clarissa Pinkola Estes.

In the Hispanic tradition, a curandero (male) or curandera (female) is a healer or shaman. Because I’d grown up in Albuquerque, New Mexico, I’d heard whispers about the mysterious practice of curanderismo. I’d written about a curandera in my first novel, published in Italy as “L’incantesimo della Sciamana” (Spell of the Shaman).

The author of the book, Elena Avila, had a master’s degree in nursing. “Has it made me a better curandera? No. Being a curandera has made me a better nurse,” she wrote.

Through reading Avila’s book, I embarked on a restorative spiritual journey. She wrote that Western medicine lacks “heart.” Her ideas touched me deeply. Again and again, complementary and traditional medicines remind us why we cannot separate the mind/body/spirit.

The universe had more in store for me, however, than just the gift of this book.

My life situation told me I needed healing for my soul. I prayed to meet a curandera. Only four weeks after sending this heartfelt request out to the Divine, I spied an ad in the classified section of my local newspaper, the Pagosa Springs Sun:  “Curandera performing ‘limpias’ and offering a variety of healing services.”

Trembling with excitement, I dialed the curandera’s number (these were the days before cell phones). After setting a time for our appointment, the curandera, whose name was Irma Martinez, asked, “Gloria, are you familiar with curanderismo?”

“Only what I read in a book,” I said.

“Really? Which book?”

“It’s called Woman Who Glows in the Dark …”

I could hear the sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. Then the curandera gasped out, “That’s my sister’s book! My sister is Elena Avila! I’m one of the curanderas she talks about in the book.”

Now it was my turn to be awestruck. What were the chances that I would somehow meet one of the curanderas in the book I’d just finished reading? One in a million? My prayer had been answered with a miracle!

The synchronicity of this event had a profound spiritual impact on me. I wept for two hours after hanging up the telephone. It seemed impossible. But it had happened! 

For my first limpia (spiritual cleansing), I dressed all in white—even white underwear—and brought a candle, some flowers, and a personal item to represent each of the four directions:

• East, the direction of new beginnings, of mystery and hope
• West, the direction of endings, of dying, of letting go
• South, the direction of trust, of childlike spontaneity and joy
• North, the direction of the ancestors and one’s heritage

Meeting Irma was like seeing the character in my novel come to life for me. Irma was a petite woman of Maya heritage with a glow on her face and sparkling eyes. She seemed to be joy personified, with one foot planted firmly in the modern world of technology and pop culture, and another foot in the ancient one of Maya and Aztec shamanism. She seemed at ease in either world.

A voracious reader, Irma was familiar with all of Carlos Castaneda’s books. But unlike me, Irma lived the worldview of the fabled don Juan. She’d practiced curanderismo in Mexico and visited Maya ruins. Irma was a spiritual warrior of great energy and depth.

Together, we embarked on a soul retrieval journey, meeting regularly for a year or so, until I moved away from Pagosa Springs to Denver. I learned so much from Irma! She helped me heal from some old emotional wounds and fortify my own inner power.

Irma gave me a Maya name: “Yellow Overtone Seed.” The message connected with this name was this:  “I empower in order to target. Commanding awareness, I seal the input of flowering with the overtone tone of radiance. I am guided by the power of free will.”

To this day, I am still discovering what this message means.