magical and sanctioned entities and images in exchange for our well-being, for a cure. When I was four, I had a severe abdominal infection and needed emergency surgery for a ruptured appendix. The wound was left open to heal and drain in the meantime. I was taken to a hybrid healer saint, who was known to confer healing by touch. At the time, I had visions of this person every night or morning while still in slumber. I thought the healer was standing next to my bed. I recuperated, yet a large scar remains as a reminder.

To a great extent, medical school and psychiatry residency erased my beliefs in the magical and the ritual, in exchange for the “evidence-based.” I carried myself as a double through the years, the hidden me smiling at myself for the naivete of denying not the extraordinary but the omnipresent forces that permeate throughout and timelessly thread through peoples, places, and occasions, while my outer self pretended to understand and see with transparency and accuracy.

Today, I am thankful for the errors, if I can call them that, the repetitions, the coincidences, the marks, the stories (so many patients; stories and stories belonging to anyone crossing my path), the small rites, and more recently, a more concrete form I found of this “magic”—a reconnection with this life force that was dormant in me.

I came to work at Dinétah (Navajo Nation) at the beginning of the COVID-19 era, and suddenly, I was witness to a wealth of beauty, stimuli, and information like never before in my career. Here, ceremony and ritual start upon awakening, and one looks to the east, visualizing goals and strengths, readying for the day.

Every mark on the land has a meaning and is a fount, a force of life. Approaching work every day, I see Shiprock (Tsé Bitʼaʼí), the great bird bringing the people to this place. A thank you shall be given.

At the hospital where I work, there is a Traditional Healer to whom we can refer patients. He can perform Beauty Way (Hózhó) Ceremonies to restore harmony and balance, which take place in the hospital Hogan, a round house and ceremonial site, symbolizing the sun, with the entrance pointing to the east. Hózhó is one, if not the essential, concept in Navajo philosophy of living: to exist in harmony, balance, and beauty, which should ultimately be the goal of all healing practices.

Our Healer also helps us, the clinicians who aim to help others; today, he performed prayers, chants, and a cleanse of our mental health clinic given the turbulent times with the government, the everlasting dearth of resources, and the nearing spring equinox, a time of renewal and opening to new experiences and learning. The chant is sung to chase evil forces away and to guard our house. Wood ash was blown throughout the halls and inside offices for protection. An arrowhead and a smooth stone in the shape of a cradle were rubbed over each of us for blessing, the metal in the rock a shield against anger, so we can better serve our patients.

Many of my patients, who are currently receiving Western-type medical treatments, psychotropic medications, and/or individual therapy, often with limited responses, visit Medicine Men (Hataałii or singer, or Star Seer)/Women (Ndilniihii or Hand Trembler) for more complex Ceremonies, some of which take place over several days in a row (Ghostway, Protection Ceremonies, etc.). These are performed for more severe ailments, such as when a person has been exposed to or influenced by very harmful energies or enemies or crossed paths with a skinwalker.

My patients often arrive at my appointments right after visiting their Medicine Man. I don’t inquire about the details, just if it went well, if things are going better, and sometimes I ask if they are carrying protection. My patients tell me how these days it is hard to find a reliable and affordable Medicine Person, sometimes having to travel hundreds of miles to see someone their family has known for many years or having to pay too much for a service that in the past could be paid for with goods or bartered, or was performed without charge. Nonetheless, the practice remains vital, and last year an Anglo Lady (as they are called here) drove all the way from California looking for our Traditional Healer. Someone had told her he was a good one. It was not possible for her to see him as she was not a registered IHS (Indian Health Service) patient, but our front desk staff gave her a couple of names and numbers for other Medicine Men “on the Rez.”

Beauty prayers are woven throughout the sacred ceremonies that include complex sand paintings. Here is a short refrain that I believe was excerpted from one of the Blessing Way ceremonies:

In Beauty may I walk.

All day long may I walk.

Through the returning seasons may I walk.

On the trail marked with pollen may I walk.

With grasshoppers about my feet may I walk.

With dew about my feet may I walk.

With Beauty may I walk.

With Beauty before me, may I walk.

With Beauty behind me, may I walk.

With Beauty above me, may I walk.

With Beauty below me, may I walk.

With Beauty all around me, may I walk.

In old age wandering on a trail of Beauty,

lively, may I walk.

In old age wandering on a trail of Beauty,

living again, may I walk.

It is finished in Beauty.

It is finished in Beauty.

March 25th, 2025

Coming from Latin America, I am no stranger to rituals involving the intangible, forces we cannot quantify, or forces that sometimes play a role beyond our simple understanding. We make offerings, promises, and sacrifices to a combination of