When I was asked to lead chromotherapy in the terreiro

When it happened

After a few giras, I was still trying to understand what my place there might be.

A gira is a spiritual session in Umbanda, usually held inside a terreiro.

I could already see that each person within the mediumistic circle had a role.

A particular way of contributing.

But that was still something I observed from the outside.

Until, one evening, that changed.

In a simple way.

The caboclo who led the terreiro — a spiritual entity — Caboclo Tupinambá, called me over and said he would like me to take responsibility for the chromotherapy work.

It didn’t sound like an order.

But it didn’t feel like a choice either.

A place that already existed in the terreiro

At that moment, I didn’t really understand what that meant.

Even so, he began to explain how everything worked.

He explained the purpose of that space.

How people would arrive there.

What should be done.

It was a form of care within the terreiro.

A complement to what was happening during the gira.

Shortly after, he informed the entities present — one by one — that if they needed help with the chromotherapy work, they could call me.

Everything unfolded naturally.

As if it had already been arranged.

As if the place already existed — and I was simply arriving into it.

My first day with chromotherapy in the terreiro

The chromotherapy took place in a separate room inside the terreiro.

While the gira continued outside — with songs, movement, and spiritual consultations — the atmosphere inside that room was different.

Quieter.

More direct.

The first time someone was sent to me, Caboclo Tupinambá came with me.

Another person came as well.

They would assist me then.

We walked in together.

The person lay down on the treatment table.

We positioned the lights.

And we began.

While the colored lights were on, we continued with the passe — a quiet gesture made with the hands near the body.

And right then, something became very clear:

I didn’t really know what I was doing.

I felt completely unsure.

Trying to repeat what I had seen.

Trying not to make mistakes.

Thinking, in some way, that I needed to do something “good” for that person.

To hold positive thoughts.

To maintain an intention of care.

As if that could somehow reach them.

Not as a clear method.

More like an attempt.

And for someone used to understanding before acting, that wasn’t simple.

There was no clear explanation for what was happening.
Or for what I was supposed to feel.
Or for what I was actually doing.

And still, I had to continue.

After a few minutes, Caboclo Tupinambá stepped out.

Without saying anything.

Without telling me whether it was right or wrong.

And I stayed.

With the person in front of me.

And with the feeling that now I had to continue.

The person remained lying there.

I turned on a few other lights, following what I had been instructed.

I continued as best as I could.

Until, at some point, the session ended.

I turned off the lights.

The person stood up.

Thanked me.

And left.

And that stayed with me.

Without much clarity.

But it stayed.

What followed in the chromotherapy room

That same night, other people came.

Two, maybe three.

And in the following giras, it continued.

Each time, a few people were sent to the chromotherapy room.

And each time, I repeated the process.

Still unsure.

Still not fully understanding.

But already a little less lost than before.

Over time, a certain rhythm began to form.

The person would lie down.

I would position the lights.

And the work would begin.

In simple terms, the chromotherapy in the terreiro used colored lights applied to different parts of the body — the head, the torso, the lower abdomen — as a form of care and balance.

It was a simple form of care.

While the lights were on, the passe continued.

A quiet form of care

There was almost no conversation.

People arrived already carrying something.

And that was a quieter space.

More inward.

I still didn’t really understand what I was doing.

But, little by little, I learned to continue anyway.

Maybe learning, there, had more to do with staying than with understanding.

When things began to shift

In the beginning, the entities would indicate which colors to use and where to apply them.

That brought a certain sense of security.

There was a clear direction.

Until, at some point, that changed.

I would be called to the entity.

They would tell me the theme.

And then simply say:

“Choose the colors.”

After that, the person would be sent with me.

No explanation.

No guidance.

And this started happening more and more over time.

And each time, the feeling was similar.

I didn’t really know what each color meant.

What I had were small associations.

Things I had picked up from previous sessions.

Patterns I thought I was beginning to notice.

But nothing very clear.

Nothing structured.

And still, I had to choose.

And in that moment, there wasn’t much space to try to understand first.

It was more about feeling… and following.

Something close to intuition.

Which, for me, did not come naturally.

I kept trying to find some logic.

But there, it didn’t always appear.

Time passing

The giras continued.

Week after week.

And slowly, that space stopped feeling entirely unfamiliar.

Not because everything suddenly made sense.

But because I was getting used to being there.

Repeating the same gestures.

Facing the same doubts.

Holding that space without needing to resolve everything.

And without much feedback on how I was doing.

And that, too, was uncomfortable.

There was no clear way to measure whether it was right.

For someone used to that kind of feedback, something was missing.

At the same time, there was a certain distance.

While the gira unfolded outside — with songs, movement, and consultations — I was often in another room.

I didn’t see what was happening.

I didn’t follow everything.

It was like being inside — and outside — at the same time.

What only became clear later

At that time, many things still didn’t make sense.

Over time, some connections began to emerge.

First came the colors.

Then ideas I was still not very familiar with, like chakras.

And only later did certain relationships begin to make more sense to me — including themes that also appear connected to the Orishas in Umbanda.

But none of that was present in the beginning.

In the beginning, it was just practice.

Repetition.

And a constant attempt to live up to something I didn’t fully understand.

And maybe part of that only became clearer much later.

And perhaps, part of what was being built there didn’t come from understanding more —
but from trying to control less.

The place that slowly forms

Over time, the idea of “having a place” stopped being something I observed in others.

It became something I was beginning to experience inside the terreiro.

But not as something fixed.

And not as something fully clear.

It was more like a place that was forming while I was there.

And maybe, without realizing it, something in me was also shifting.

Not as certainty.

But as a different way of being there.

Entre mundos.

And maybe this is just one of those places we only recognize after we’ve already crossed it.