The time has come for me to share some thoughts about tobacco. It’s a bit ironic, really — I’m not even a regular tobacco user. But perhaps it’s not always necessary to use a plant in order to understand or respect it. So if I make any missteps in this post, I welcome discussion. There’s always a chance I’ve misunderstood something, as my relationship with this plant is largely observational.
Still, I hold deep respect for the spirit of tobacco. I resonate with its ceremonial uses — offering it to fire or the earth, using it for prayer, or to ground and protect. In ceremonies, I’ve seen it help bring people back from faraway astral journeys or deep emotional processes. It’s a powerful anchor.
Tobacco is considered sacred in many cultures. Ancient traditions believe this plant opens gateways to spirit worlds, strengthens intentions, connects us with other dimensions, and serves as a respectful offering. In many rituals, it isn’t burned at all, but placed on the earth or in water as a prayerful gift. When it is smoked (in Native American or Peruvian Shipibo traditions, for example), it’s not inhaled into the lungs — the smoke is blown onto a person, altar, or object as part of a blessing or cleansing.
In other South American cultures, tobacco is also used through the nose — either as a tea that’s snorted or as powdered rapé, which is blown in. In these forms, tobacco is used to ground, focus, release, and cleanse. Liquid tobacco is also used as a sinus-clearing medicine.
But what concerns me is how these sacred practices are being distorted to feed addiction.
In my experience, tobacco has a firm and dignified spirit — and it responds to misuse with consequences. I won’t bother repeating what’s written on cigarette packs — we all know the potential dangers. Instead, I want to talk about subtler experiences.
I’ve attended Peruvian Shipibo ceremonies where only the healer uses a tobacco pipe — and only in key moments, with clear intention. I’ve also been in ceremonies where every participant receives five Mapacho cigarettes and spends the night smoking nonstop — active and passive smokers alike. Even those who don’t smoke end up inhaling the smoke if they’re in an enclosed space.
Someone once told me why tobacco isn’t inhaled into the lungs in shamanic practices: “Tobacco is a free spirit. It doesn’t like being trapped in the lungs. So when it gets there, it causes trouble.”
When used sparingly and with clear purpose, it can be a powerful ally. But in my experience, few shamans (let alone regular people) manage to avoid addiction. Daily use, without intention, is all too common.
I’ve also noticed something else — when too much tobacco is present in a ceremony, I can no longer feel the effects of other master plants. Even if I start to enter visionary states, the moment the room fills with tobacco smoke, the visions fade. I’m brought back into the physical, grounded, left with nothing but the scent.
Linas once shared Santo Daime music with a Peruvian healer, who responded: “Yes, I see — they work on the third level.” He went on to explain that, in his tradition, there are three levels: the physical (first), the astral (second), and the divine (third). Most plant ceremonies take place in the second level, with occasional assistance from the third level through special icaros (prayer songs). But, he warned, when working on that divine third level, tobacco must be left out — it’s not compatible. In fact, if tobacco is used, the divine presence won’t come. And if they do access that level, the next day must be spent fasting to integrate it.
That made so much sense to me. I realized why tobacco tends to shut off my visions — my spiritual path has been deeply rooted in third-level energy. In Santo Daime ceremonies, tobacco is forbidden. Their work is always done in prayer, in communion with the divine. And it fits.
I once participated in a Daime-inspired ceremony where a few people broke that rule and used tobacco. The contrast was palpable. For me, working with divine energy feels like flying a spaceship through the inner cosmos — light, expansive, galactic. But the moment tobacco entered the space, it was like a meteor shower striking from every direction. Navigation became almost impossible.
In that moment, I was quickly grounded — thrown back into the body. And I remembered something from childhood: when my parents divorced, my mother started smoking. I hated the smell. Visiting her meant spending hours surrounded by that stench. I would often leave with a headache. I know I carry tobacco trauma — and I try to stay aware of how that may shape my perspective.
Let’s talk about rapé.
Rapé is a powder used in many South American tribes (especially in Brazil), traditionally made from tobacco and ashes of sacred trees or plants. As one friend once explained to me: “Tobacco grounds and cleanses, while ash connects us to spirit — it’s the last physical trace before a plant becomes pure spirit.”
Used with intention, rapé can be a powerful tool. It can help break mind loops, calm anxiety, or return someone to their body after deep energetic work. One benefit is that, unlike smoke, there’s minimal impact on people nearby — no passive inhalation.
I don’t believe someone will become addicted if they only use rapé ceremonially and with clear spiritual intent. Addiction begins when it’s used daily — no prayer, no presence — just chasing sensation, a hormonal high.
That’s how rapé addiction starts. And I’ve seen it happen.
I know several people who use rapé 10+ times a day. At that point, it’s clearly not about healing. It’s a compulsion. And the energy of addiction is deeply felt — even in how the medicine is given. Once, I received rapé from someone who was visibly annoyed with me. It was a horrible experience. The energy of the person administering matters. Imagine the effect when that energy is purely compulsive or unconscious.
And there are physical consequences, too.
Rapé is a powder, and the nose is moist for a reason. When used daily, the mucous membranes dry out, making it harder to breathe and easier for pathogens to enter the body. Linas says that when he blows rapé into someone who is addicted, it’s like blowing into a clogged pipe. The sinuses are completely blocked.
If you use rapé daily, I’d recommend rinsing your nose with saltwater and considering a shift to liquid Mapacho tea, which is gentler on the sinuses.
Let’s also dispel a common myth: that “natural” tobacco isn’t dangerous. Even pure tobacco contains carcinogens. Even if you don’t inhale, nicotine and other chemicals still enter the bloodstream through the mouth or nose. And rapé? It goes directly to the nervous system.
The sinuses help detoxify the brain. Blocking them with toxic powders — daily — will not support brain health.
There are documented cases of seizures and organ damage (kidneys, liver) from rapé overuse. One woman even contacted me while I was writing this post — a sign, perhaps. Her husband uses rapé more than 10 times per day and has become aggressive.
Used with intention, rapé can be helpful. But overuse has real risks — physical, hormonal, emotional.
So check in with yourself. Is your nose still moist? Is your breath still easy? Is your relationship with this medicine still sacred?
Interesting side note: magnesium deficiency has been linked to a higher risk of addiction — including to nicotine and caffeine. I’d recommend Epsom salt baths and high-quality ceremonial cacao as nourishing alternatives.
To close this post: even water, if consumed in excess, can be deadly. Alcohol, when used with awareness, can be healing in tinctures — but if abused, it’s poison. Tobacco is no different. Ask yourself — is your relationship with this spirit still conscious, healthy, and respectful?
Some useful links:
As for me, I don’t use rapé that contains tobacco and ashes. When I need something, I turn to Awiri rapé — made only from a specific dried plant, with no tobacco or ash. It feels different — gentler, meditative, more nature-connected. It’s not grounding in the same way but offers a sense of lightness and clarity. And, from my experience, it’s less likely to clog the sinuses. Still, it’s a powder — so moderation is key.
If you’re looking for an alternative to tobacco-based rapé, I highly recommend exploring it.
8/25/2023