When I stepped in, I realized something was already in motion

A step forward, but not the way I imagined

After being invited into the mediumistic circle — the group of mediums who work together during the gira, a spiritual session in Umbanda — at that moment when it finally happened, I imagined something would shift right away.

As if I had crossed a clear line between two different places.

But that wasn’t what happened.

The space itself changed.

I moved from the assistência — the area where visitors sit and observe — into the central part of the terreiro, where everything unfolds.

A more exposed place.
Closer.
And, in a way, harder to disappear in.

And it was exactly there that something began to reveal itself differently:

I was closer to everything…
but understood less than I thought I would.

What happens before the spiritual session begins

One of the first things I started to notice had nothing to do with the gira itself — the spiritual session.

It happened before.

We would arrive earlier, and without anyone needing to say much, each person would begin doing something inside the terreiro.

Someone sweeping the floor.
Someone arranging the chairs.
Someone taking care of a corner that might not even be used that day.

It didn’t feel like assigned tasks.
Or an obligation.

It was more as if everyone somehow knew that this was also part of the work.

At the same time, there was something else:

No one seemed to be forced into anything.

Each person found their own way to take part.
And that, too, seemed to be respected.

Without realizing it, everyone seemed to be helping to hold something together that I still didn’t know how to name.

Maybe that started to make sense because, for a long time, my place had been somewhere else — sitting quietly in the assistência, trying to understand what was happening, and slowly realizing that watching and listening were also ways of participating.

Back then, I wasn’t thinking much about any of this.

But it started to draw my attention.

There was no “who does” and “who doesn’t”

Over time, I began to notice something that, at first, almost went unnoticed.

There wasn’t a clear separation between those who did things and those who didn’t.

There wasn’t a group responsible for taking care of the space while others simply observed.

Everyone was involved.
Without distinction.
Without needing to say it out loud.

And perhaps even more interesting: this didn’t erase the rhythm of each person.

Everyone moved at their own pace.
And somehow, that didn’t disrupt what was happening.

I wouldn’t have been able to explain it.

There was a different kind of logic at play there — one I wasn’t used to outside of that space.

A role I didn’t yet know how to name

If things were starting to make a bit more sense on a physical level, on a spiritual level everything was still unclear to me.

During the gira, each person within the mediumistic circle seemed to occupy a place.

But that “place” wasn’t exactly a role.
Or a function in the usual sense.

It was something more subtle.
Harder to describe.

It was also during this time that I began to notice that different kinds of spiritual work could happen within the same space — something that, from the outside, might seem confusing at first, but is part of how Umbanda organizes itself.

Some of these forms I could recognize more easily. Others were completely new to me.

Certain presences started to feel familiar — entities working through the mediums — while others I still couldn’t understand.

And slowly, names that were once just words began to carry a different weight.

But at that time, everything still felt fragmented.

More sensation than understanding.

When something starts to echo

At the time, I didn’t know these myths.
But something about it already felt familiar.

Not as a clear idea.
Not as something I could explain.
But as if something was already happening before I could understand what it was.

More like a subtle recognition —
that what was happening there didn’t depend on who knew more…
or who seemed more prepared.

A myth about completing, not replacing

It was only later — already living in another country — that I came across some of these myths of the Orishas, through books like Mitologia dos Orixás.

In one of them, Orunmilá faces a situation he cannot resolve on his own.

He observes.
He understands.
But nothing moves forward.

It is when Exu enters that something shifts.

Not by taking over.
But by completing what was missing.

And looking back, this started to resonate with what I had seen in the terreiro.

No one seemed to do everything.
And still, things happened.

As if movement depended precisely on that encounter.

A myth that reveals strength where it is least expected

In another moment, a myth tells of an entire city facing the absence of water.

A situation too large.
Too collective.

And still, the solution does not come from those who seemed the most prepared.

It comes from the Ibejis.

Two children.

Not as an exception.
But as something that simply reveals itself.

And this also touched something I had already sensed there, even without understanding it.

That strength doesn’t always appear where we expect it.

And that sometimes, it is exactly that unexpected presence that changes everything.

Holding something you cannot see

Perhaps this was one of the first quiet changes within me.

The realization that being part of the mediumistic circle in Umbanda was not just about “being there.”

It was about sustaining something.

The space.
The environment.
What happens during the gira.

Even without fully understanding how.
Even without being able to explain it.

And at the same time, this didn’t seem to erase anyone’s individuality.

If anything, it allowed it.

There was something there that made it possible for each person to be in their own moment… while still being part of something collective.

Over time, this became clearer.

But at the beginning, it was only a feeling.

Like noticing there is an invisible structure… before being able to see it.

At some point — and only much later — I began to understand that the work did not start when the gira started.

And it didn’t end when it was over.

It was already in motion long before I stepped in.

Entre mundos.

And maybe that is how some things only make sense once we are already somewhere else.