How We Prepare Ceremonial Cacao, and Why We Keep It Pure
This is our most important offering: a way of drinking cacao that was shared with us, that we have lived with for years, and that we pour whenever we sit together with people.
Everything else we make grows out of this cup. It asks for very little — a good piece of the block, hot water, a spoon — and opens a sacred moment right in the middle of an ordinary day.
Water, cacao, and nothing else
Thirty to forty-five grams (about 1 to 1½ oz) of cacao for one person, broken from the block into the cup. Begin with a gentle amount, and let your body show you what feels right for you.
Hot water, not boiling. Fill the cup.
Stir with a teaspoon, slowly, and let your intention flow into the cup.
Drink. When the cup runs low and cacao is still waiting at the bottom, add more hot water and finish it there.
That is the whole method. The rest of this post is about why we keep it this pure.
A circle set before people arrive.
Meeting the cacao directly
In our ceremonies the cup holds cacao and water alone, so each person meets the essence of the plant directly, heart to heart.
Cacao is also a vehicle. We speak of her as she, and a little further on you will meet her by name. Whatever you bring to the cup, she carries and amplifies — so we hand her only what we truly mean to give.
Bitterness is a basic taste, and one we have almost forgotten. It is worth meeting again.
Gratitude for the bitter
Our cacao is soft, creamy and loving, carrying just a gentle thread of bitterness. That gentle thread opens one of her deepest teachings: bitterness as an essence, a quality of life itself.
Life has its bitter seasons too — a loss, a hard word, a door that closes, a heaviness that settles in the chest. That bitter energy arrives as a messenger. It points to something asking for our attention: a boundary to honour, a grief ready to move, a part of us longing to be held.
When we sit with the cup and its gentle bitter note in full presence, we practise meeting the bitter with an open heart. We taste it fully, breathe with it, and stay. Slowly it softens. What felt hard becomes depth, and what felt like an ending becomes rich soil for something new.
And then comes the most beautiful part: gratitude. Thank you for showing me. Thank you for making me stronger, softer, wiser. Each bitter sip becomes a small ceremony of transformation — the same alchemy we can carry into every bitter moment of our lives.
This is also why our cup stays unsweetened. A clear cup lets the body speak. You feel exactly how much you need, and once you have had a good measure, you are free to leave the rest. Listening that closely, here and now, is part of the practice.
She is the medicine
The stirring
For thousands of years, the peoples of the Americas have honoured cacao as sacred — offered in ceremony, poured for the earth, shared at life’s great thresholds. Each time you stir your cup, you join that long line of hands.
Stir slowly with a teaspoon and hold one clear intention in your heart — a prayer, a question, a hope, a thank you. As you stir, you place it in the cup. Tsiru receives it and gives it back to you amplified, bringing what matters most into focus. That is her magic.
This is the moment the cup becomes ceremony: one breath, one intention, and then the first sip.
A sacred moment, every day
Cacao is a companion for daily life. A cup in the morning, a cup with a friend, a cup before your work or your prayers — each one opens a small sacred space, and slowly the days begin to fill with magic.
Being alive is a gift. We are bountiful, we are blessed, and we are loved.
That is the message of this medicine, as we learned it from the Bribri people.
She also teaches us to live in harmony together. When we drink cacao in community, we see our neighbours with fresh eyes, with compassion and love. Hearts open one by one, and together they weave a field so strong you can feel it fill the room.
If you are serving a circle
Thirty to forty-five grams (about 1 to 1½ oz) of cacao per person, with each person free to choose a different dosage.
A pot of hot water, not boiling, within reach of everyone.
Cups and teaspoons on the table.
Let people top up their own cups as they go, and leave whatever they are complete with.
A gift, with love
We share this guide as people who have lived close to this medicine for many years, and who have seen how generously she blesses everyone ready to welcome her into their lives.
So prepare your cup, light a candle if you wish, and let her in. A good piece of cacao, hot water, a spoon, and an open heart — that is all she asks. Everything else, she brings.
Our cacao is grown by Bribri families in Talamanca, fermented and sun-dried, and made by a cooperative of 100 Bribri women. Never roasted, at any point.
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