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We are Nature

When Indigenous Wisdom Meets Spiritual Intelligence

Published in Valores Magazine, July 2023 Instituto Latinoamericano de Valores Humanos Preface and Interview by Maria Raiti and Ricardo Cavalli


On Spiritual Intelligence

By María Raiti

Artificial Intelligence has dramatically transformed how we access and relate to knowledge — and it will continue to do so. It seems to “know everything.” But when asked, “Who am I?”, it replies: “I’m sorry, I don’t have the capacity to know who you are.”

When we clarify that this question belongs to the tradition of Advaita Vedanta, AI responds:

“In Advaita Vedanta, the question ‘Who am I?’ is a fundamental inquiry into the nature of identity and ultimate reality. The true answer lies not in intellectual understanding but in direct experience, attained through meditation, self-inquiry, and the guidance of a qualified spiritual teacher.”

A fine conceptual explanation. But precisely because it is conceptual, it falls short. The answer is not something to be explained — it must be lived. The question “Who am I?” must take root in the seeker’s consciousness. From there, a path unfolds: the path of inner knowledge, leading to direct realisation. This path is only revealed under the guidance of a true spiritual teacher.

And when the student is ready, the teacher appears. A sacred bond of mutual respect arises, one that transcends time and space. After having attained their own realisation, the true teacher — the Guru — can transmit that wisdom from generation to generation.

There is an intelligence that no artificial mind can replicate. It emerges from experience, from clarity, from presence. It is spiritual intelligence — the light that guides from within when we remember who we truly are. It is the wisdom of those who have realised their true nature.

In this issue of Valores Magazine, we are fortunate to introduce such a teacher. His name is Juayuk (also known as Juan de Dios), an elder from the Wichí people of the Gran Chaco in northern Argentina. His mission is to transmit the ancestral wisdom of his people — and much of it flows through conversations shared with visual anthropologist Martin Kraft .

The Indigenous communities of this region endure extreme social and environmental vulnerability. Ravaged by deforestation and the imposition of Western worldviews as hegemonic culture, they face severe poverty, the loss of traditional food sources, lack of access to clean water, and systemic social invisibility.

Yet even in the most adverse of contexts, Juayuk transcends the binary narrative of victim/victimiser. With freedom and deep beauty, he positions himself not as a victim, but as a messenger for all humanity.

In an exceptional conversation, Martin Kraft shares the story of their encounter and presents some of the poetic songs of the Mother Trees of the Chaco forest — verses and whispers that Juayuk hears and translates into coplas. These songs renew our trust in the human spirit and in the vision of a possible future — one rooted in remembering who we truly are and what our purpose on Earth might be.

The full moon of July celebrates Guru Purnima, a sacred day in yogic traditions that honours the spiritual teacher. From the perspective of Advaita, we could say that Juayuk is indeed a master — not in title, but in essence.

He is one who has attained direct knowledge and the realisation of his true nature. His words and silences emanate from that light — a light no artificial intelligence could ever replace. When you listen to him, you can only feel admiration and the longing to walk that same path.

This profound and extraordinary encounter could be ours too. The masters are ready to lead us toward the highest realisation — we only need to reach out our hand.

 

✨ Interview with Martín Kraft: Alianza Wichi and the Wisdom of Juayuk

Who is Juayuk? Juayuk is a Wichí elder and spiritual guide from the northern forests of Argentina, where the Yunga and Chaco ecosystems meet. For decades, he has protected a native forest under constant threat of deforestation. His ancestral knowledge of the land and the spiritual language of nature make him both a scientist and a sage.

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Juayuk and a Mother tree (photo: Martin Kraft)

Juayuk practices a form of ecological restoration that combines sophisticated botanical techniques with spiritual insight. He uses fungi spores—wahan’cheiaj, the “green breath of eternal life”—to awaken life in dead wood. He can graft incompatible species and regenerate trees from roots that still hold life. To him, this isn’t just botany. It is spiritual alliance.

He is the principal guide of Alianza Wichi, and for those who work with him, a master in the deepest sense of the word.

Martín Kraft on Alianza Wichi

“I’m a cultural anthropologist from Argentina, specialising in visual anthropology. For over fifteen years, I’ve worked in the northern Chaco region, documenting Indigenous traditions, oral histories, and ecological knowledge.

Alianza Wichi promotes Indigenous voices and lifeways, their profound relationship with nature, and their capacity to offer solutions to today’s planetary crises. Their wisdom challenges us all — not only as professionals, but as human beings.”


A Transformative Encounter “After years of visiting communities, I had met many elders. But everyone kept telling me about one man who wanted to speak with me — Juan de Dios.

When we finally met, we walked through the forest together, and I immediately felt something different. He began explaining very subtle concepts in Spanish, but I asked him to speak only in Wichí. I knew I was missing the depth and essence of his words.

With the help of an extraordinary Wichí-Chorote translator, I began recording hours of dialogue. I even postponed my flight to spend more time with him.”

In just three days, Juayuk shared an entire cosmovision: the origin of life on Earth, the role of humans in the web of nature, and sacred alliances with trees, seeds, and animals formed thousands of years ago — alliances we have since forgotten.

“He told me: Before continuing any work, you must go and listen to the Mother Trees. So we walked for ten days, recording their messages — poems, songs, aphorisms. He sang them aloud. Each one unique, unrepeatable.”

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Juayuk preparing for an interview with Martin (photo: Martin Kraft)

What the Trees Say “They reminded us of the ancient pacts made between humans and forests. That they gave us food so we could turn toward spiritual growth. That the taste of their seeds lives on in our blood.”

Through the translator, I learned these were not metaphors. The songs were direct transmissions from urundel, yuchán, guayacán, and algarrobo — the “mothers” of the forest.

Juayuk’s rituals involve planting sacred fungi, spoken chants, and spiritual guidance. His process aligns with current mycological research from CONICET, but it goes far beyond it. For him, the fungus is also the spirit of the tree, awakening new life from decomposition.

“He showed me a grafted tree — a mix of palo borracho and cedar — created using this sacred spore. A being that, according to modern botany, shouldn’t exist. Yet there it was.”


The Voice of the Ancestors “He often sends me voice messages — songs, poems. He’s committed to writing seven books to document what he has received from his ancestors.

He believes that if we fail, all of humanity’s previous generations fail with us. For him, time is not linear — it is wind. And in the wind, he hears the voices of those who came before.”

Juayuk refuses to be seen as a victim. Amid ecological devastation, he offers a spiritual vision for the planet. He says:

“If humanity listens to the messages of the Mothers — even the white man — maybe we can work again with nature. If we unite, we can all live a wonderful life”


The Mission of Alianza Wichi “We don’t dream of pristine ecological corridors. We believe Indigenous communities can create paradise on Earth. Native forests, when managed with ancestral knowledge, offer well-being, nourishment, and balance — without pesticides or monocultures.

Our work supports native nurseries, seed recovery, food sovereignty, and legal recognition of Indigenous land rights. These cultures must be free to define their own futures — and we all benefit from their wisdom.”

Final Reflections “Meeting Juayuk meant letting go of my own paradigms. As an anthropologist, I worked with facts. He challenged me to listen with the heart — to see that science and spirituality are not separate.

His teachings aren’t just relevant to the Wichí. They are a gift to all of humanity.”

“After listening to him, you’ll never see a tree the same way again. And the wind? It will no longer be just moving air. It will be the voice of the ancestors.”
 

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Learning from Juayuk: The Breath of Life and the Whispering Forests

We were deep into the forest when Juayuk stopped walking. The midday light filtered through the canopy, painting the undergrowth in slow-moving gold. He looked up, silent, then down at the roots beneath our feet.

“Try to take a photo where I’m not what matters,” he said, half-smiling. “Let the forest be the one you see.”

I took some time to reflect on his request and lowered my camera before shooting.

 

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“Try to take a photo where I’m not what matters,” he said, half-smiling. “Let the forest be the one you see.”

 

 

I had been walking with Juayuk — a Wichí elder and spiritual ecologist from the Gran Chaco — for several weeks. My role was to document, to listen, and perhaps, if I was careful, to begin understanding. I came as an ethnographer and filmmaker, but more and more, I was shedding those words. In the forest, they felt inadequate.

What I was witnessing was not simply reforestation. It was a philosophy of regeneration, rooted in memory, fungi, fire, and reverence.


Beneath the Silence

What lies beneath the forest floor is not soil in the ordinary sense. It is a living archive — of relationships, of language, of grief, and of hope. Juayuk calls this world the deep memory of the trees.

Modern science has begun, cautiously, to echo him. A recent study published in Current Biology revealed that between 79% and 83% of ectomycorrhizal fungi (ECM) — the fungal networks that sustain trees — remain undescribed by science. These underground webs:

  • Feed the roots with nitrogen and phosphorus
  • Carry sugars, water, and chemical signals
  • Help forests resist drought, fire, and disease
  • And store 2.5 gigatonnes of carbon per year

And yet, in most conservation plans, they are still invisible. Unnamed. Unprotected.

Forests, it turns out, do not end where the eye does.

The Breath of Life

We came to a fallen tree — not long dead. Juayuk knelt beside it and brushed away the bark. There, emerging from a crack in the trunk, was a considerable protuberance, coppery orangish fungus. He held it carefully, like one would hold a newborn bird. It fell apart at a mere brush of the hand.

“This is wahan’cheiaj,” he whispered. “The breath of life.”

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“This is

It is both metaphor and organism — a sacred fungus that emerges from the dead and makes possible the living. Juayuk uses it to reconnect what has been cut: he joins the still-living roots of a felled tree with a seed, sometimes from another species. The wahan’cheiaj acts as bridge, glue, alchemy, a protector.

Over time, the roots of the felled tree and the new sprout fuse. They grow. Sometimes they become something new.

We are currently documenting a remarkable hybrid — between a Yuchán (Ceiba chodatii) and a Cedro (Cedrela odorata). It is over 50 years old. Its trunk and flower defy taxonomic certainty. You feel, standing before it, that you are in the presence of something impossible — and entirely real.

 

The Bombs That Birth Forests

Days later, he shared with me another mystery. Beneath a towering Guayacán (Caesalpinia paraguariensis), we began gathering soil, ash, fungi, seeds, and dry wood. Juayuk formed a mound — a mother bomb, he called it.

Inside, he lit a small fire. Then he sealed the earth around it, leaving tiny breathing holes. Over the next 80 days, the fire would smoulder slowly, warming the mound from within.

 

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Juayuk singing next to this “Mother Bomb” of life.

 

This was not destruction. This was incubation.

“Like a womb,” he said. “Dark, warm, full of life.”

Inside, microorganisms, rhizomes, and fungal spores would multiply. The earth would become black and rich in carbon, much like the terra preta of the Amazon. Once ready, he would open the mound, spread the living soil in a circle, and wait for the rains.

And then — without planting a single tree — the forest would begin to rise.

“The trees walk by themselves,” Juayuk says. “We only remind them how.”

Youth, Memory, and the Unseen Emergency

What struck me most was not the technique — extraordinary as it was — but the urgency. Juayuk worries that younger Wichí are losing their connection to this knowledge. Decades of cultural erasure and systemic denial of the value of Indigenous ways of knowing and relating to living beings have led many to believe that their grandparents’ wisdom is irrelevant — unscientific, even. A long process of acculturation and internalised dismissal has silenced not only traditions, but entire ways of perceiving the world.

And yet, these very ways might hold answers to the ecological crisis we all face.

At Alianza Wichi, we are working to protect this ancestral wisdom, not just as cultural heritage, but as a living tool for planetary regeneration. With the guidance of scientists like Dr María Eugenia Suárez (CONICET) and her team of ethnobiologists, we are studying these techniques not to extract or simplify them, but to honour and share them.

How do we bridge the language of science with the language of spirit? How do we listen — deeply — across worlds?

 


 

Toward Sanctuaries of Culture and Nature

What we envision now is a network of Sanctuaries: places where ancestral knowledge, native ecosystems, and community-led restoration coexist.

These will not be parks or museums — but living landscapes where:

  • Elders passing on ancestral knowledge to younger generations, preserving culture through living practice.
  • Scientists working alongside Indigenous experts, in mutual respect and co-creation of knowledge.
  • Forest regeneration tied to food sovereignty, restoring ecosystems while feeding communities.
  • A living school of ancestral wisdom, open to the world, rooted in practice, spirit, and soil.
  • A model for global replication, offering place-based solutions that can inspire regenerative action worldwide.

It is a vision born not only of urgency, but of trust and reciprocity towards nature and cultural diversity.

The Film, the Forest, the Future

The film weaves together themes of spiritual ecology, hybrid trees, fungal intelligence, mycorrhizal memory, pyrolysis, and the art of minimal intervention. It reveals that forests do not need to be controlled or replanted from above — they can return from within, if we learn to listen, to trust, and to act in reciprocity.

But this is more than a story of regeneration. It is a call to protect what remains and to recover what was silenced — to save these native forests from exploitation and collapse, and to ensure that the ancestral knowledge that sustains them does not vanish with the last elders who carry it.

At the heart of this journey is my bond with Juayuk — one that began in curiosity but grew into something deeper: a friendship rooted in admiration, humility, and learning. He is not a subject of my study, nor a figure in need of saving. Quite the opposite.

He is my teacher. My guide. In many ways, my saviour — reminding me of what it means to belong to a living world.

He carries a vision that can help all of us reimagine our relationship with the Earth — not as masters, but as kin.

What Juayuk embodies is not just a technique, but a worldview — one that sees trees as relational beings, not resources; fungi as bridges, not by-products. This way of knowing deserves to be recognised, protected, and shared. It is time to declare it for what it is: an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity.

This film, and the voices within it, seek to spark impact and awareness — not only to inform, but to transform: to invite a shift in how we relate to the natural world. To remember that we are not above nature, but woven into it — through soil, breath, memory and root.