It's that in me there is no sorcery, there is no anger, there are no lies. Because I don't have garbage, I don't have dust. The sickness comes out if the sick vomit. They vomit the sickness. They vomit because the mushrooms want them to. If the sick don't vomit, I vomit. I vomit for them and in that way the malady is expelled. The mushrooms have power because they are the flesh of God. And those that believe are healed. Those that do not believe are not healed.

[....] I have cured many children. Sometimes I give the children a little bit of Little-One-Who-Springs-Forth. I vomit for the children if they don't. Before beginning the vigil I ask the name of the sick person. In that way I search for the sickness and in that way I cure. If the sick person doesn't tell me the cause of his or her malady I divine it. When the sick person sweats, that reveals that he or she is going to be healed. Sweat gets rid of the fever that comes from the sickness. My words oblige the evil to leave.

For a strong toothache seven or eight pairs are eaten, that is enough. The children are taken at night; the vigil is celebrated in front of images of the saints of the Church. The saint children cure the sores, the wounds of the spirit. The spirit is what gets sick. The Curers don't know that the visions the children show reveal the origin of the malady. The Curers don't know how to use them. The Sorcerers don't either. [....] The mushrooms give me the power of universal contemplation. I can see from the origin. I can arrive where the world is born.

[....] I am not a Curer because I do not use eggs to cure. I don't ask for powers from the Lords of the Mountains. I am not a Curer because I do not give potions of strange herbs to drink. I cure with Language. Nothing else. I am a Wise Woman. Nothing else.

[....] I am wise even from within the womb of my mother. I am the woman of the winds, of the water, of the paths, because I am known in heaven, because I am a doctor woman.

I take Little-One-Who-Springs-Forth and I see God. I see him sprout from the earth. He grows and grows, big as a tree, as a mountain. His face is placid, beautiful, serene as in the temples. At other times, God is not like a man: he is the Book. A Book that is born from the earth, a sacred Book whose birth makes the world shake. It is the Book of God that speaks to me in order for me to speak. It counsels me, it teaches me, it tells me what I have to say to men, to the sick, to life. The Book appears and I learn new words.

I am the daughter of God and elected to be wise. On the altar that I have in my house is the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe. I have her in a niche. And I have Saint Mark, Saint Martin Horseman, and Saint Magdalene. They help me to cure and to speak. In the vigils I clap and whistle; at that time I am transformed into God.

-- Maria Sabina Vault