Prefer to listen? Hear this essay narrated below on Spotify:

For the past two weeks, our Saturday morning practice group has been reading an interview with the suruhåna Tan Maria Palacios Crisostomo, featured in the Directory of Traditional Healers & Medicinal Plants in the CNMI. I chose this text because she discusses a concept called Minaipen Chålan—literally “the heat of the road,” but more accurately describing the harmful spiritual energy that one can pick up while traveling.

Since I would need Tan Maria’s written permission to share the full interview here, I instead wanted to write about the rich discussion her words inspired in our group. In this post, I’ll share some of our reflections on how heat, spiritual energy, and spiritual sickness are understood in Chamorro culture, as well as the practices we engage in—or have seen in our families and communities—around these ideas.

Guella yan Guellu: Asking Permission as an Everyday Practice

Many of our introductions to Chamorro spiritual belief begin with a simple warning: ask permission of the taotaomo’na, or ancestral spirits, before entering the jungle or any natural area. Another point of guidance is to ask permission before taking something for yourself and making sure to offer something in return. Prayers like these usually begin with the phrase Guella yan Guellu (“grandmother and grandfather”) and then are tailored for the specific situation.

If we are passing through a natural area, for example, we may ask both forgiveness for our presence and permission to move through the space. And we may offer to the spirits that they are welcome to pass through our own lands should their need arise. It is all about respect and exchange.

Respectful conduct also extends beyond the words we say. We are taught not to shout, throw things, curse, or behave loudly or rudely in the jungle or any other sacred space. Timing matters too—spiritual presence can feel especially dense at certain times of day. For example, at sundown on the beach, the taotaomo’na often descend from the hills into the ocean. And the area around a trongkun nunu (banyan tree) can feel particularly potent.

Guidance can also apply to what we consume from the land. Before drinking any åmut Chamoru (traditional Chamorro medicine), I usually ask for forgiveness—especially if the medicine was brought to me here in the States from the islands—then I express gratitude, and offer something in return.

Permission and respect are also often personalized, tied to particular places and our own connection to them. Before visiting the island of Tinian, for instance, Jay’s nina warned us not to take anything from the island—even if we asked permission—because the spirits there are especially strong, and we have no roots in that place.

You may even experience this within family settings in another village. Sometimes a family member must ask permission on your behalf when you visit them because the ancestral spirits of that land may otherwise be disruptive. Jay’s stepdad, originally from Inalåhan, often notices this: the spirits of Talaifak may trouble him more than others if the family is not present to ask on his behalf.

All of these practices are ultimately acts of respect—toward the spaces we enter and occupy and the ancestral spirits who dwell in our world. And there is usually a clear warning: failing to act respectfully can have consequences, and you may get sick.

The Underlying Chamorro Worldview of Sharing Space and Exchanging Energy

Sometimes we get caught up in these practices as simple cause-and-effect lessons: If you don’t ask permission, you might get sick. That framing can make it seem as though the only reason to follow the custom is to avoid a negative consequence.

But these practices are actually rooted in something much deeper. Asking permission and behaving mindfully are not just about avoiding harm or showing formal respect. They express a worldview grounded in interconnection—the understanding that we share space with others, both seen and unseen, and that our actions affect everything around us. When we enter a place, we are participating in a shared space where presence itself has impact.

This is a key point, because the impact we experience or cause isn’t always tied to intent or disrespect. Sometimes we are affected simply because we share space—and because of the inevitable spiritual or energetic exchange that happens when presences overlap. For example, being near a trongkun nunu at sundown can affect us, even if we are being fully respectful.

This idea of inevitable energetic influence can be seen in everyday Chamorro life. Even when intentions are positive, energy can be transferred in ways that affect others. Seemingly “good” reactions—like becoming ma’aggodai (being overwhelmed with excitement or strong feeling) when seeing a baby—are understood as an energetic exchange with the potential for negative consequences. Traditionally, pinching the baby is advised to help balance out this exchange; otherwise, the child might become ill.

Being ma’aggodai is not just limited to the feelings we get when we want to pinch a cute baby or child. An adult can be the object of another person’s intense feelings and also fall ill as a result. In those cases, a visit to a suruhåna/suruhånu (traditional healer) may be needed.

All of these examples show a consistent recognition in Chamorro thought: energy can be exchanged whenever we share space. This exchange may carry positive, negative, or neutral intent, but in every case, it can become imbalanced and impact our well-being—sometimes strongly enough to manifest as physical illness. Even ordinary, everyday interactions, like becoming ma’aggodai, are understood in this way: the energy we emit or absorb can have real consequences, whether we intend it or not.

In Chamorro culture, this awareness of energy exchange is also tied to the concept of heat. Spiritual ailments—illnesses that arise from an imbalance in these exchanges—are often described with the word maipe, meaning “hot”.

Heat and Understanding Chamorro Language Around Spiritual Illness

Interwoven in the Chamorro worldview around spiritual illness is the concept of “heat”, which often appears in the names of these ailments. A general term for spiritual illness in Chamorro is Chetnut Maipe, which literally translates to “hot wound” or “hot sickness”.¹ The phrase is understood in Chamorro culture as an illness with a spiritual cause, rather than a physical one.

The physical symptoms of chetnut maipe often involve heat-related signs, such as fever, inflammation or swelling.² But while these symptoms are physical, the spiritual nature of the ailment means it cannot be treated by traditional Western medicine alone, which does not account for the spiritual dimensions of healing.

Beyond chetnut maipe, there are more specific ailments involving energy exchange that incorporate the word maipe in their names. For example, Minaipen Taotao refers to negative energy coming from another person that can make us sick.³ It might even be referred to as Minaipen Inatan Taotao, which specifically includes the word “look” or “looked at” – a reference to the fact that someone’s look of negative or ill-intent directed toward us can negatively affect our health.

Stepping briefly from the spiritual realm into the physical one, many healers also describe certain foods as maipe. These may be foods that are generally unhealthy or simply not recommended for people with particular health conditions. Some are heat-producing foods, such as ginger or spicy peppers, which naturally fit the idea of maipe. But others, like soda and chocolate drinks, may not seem “hot” at all.⁴ Yet these are also considered maipe—and when we remember that both tend to be high in sugar, which can cause inflammation in the body, the connection between heat and illness in the Chamorro worldview becomes clear.

The concept of maipe also extends beyond illness to describe other forms of energy exchange and influence. For instance, when someone’s words often seem to “make things happen”—such as saying “I hope it won’t rain today,” and then it rains—elders may say Maipe Pachot-ña, literally “His/Her mouth is hot.” You may also hear elders use the phrase Maipe Fino’-ña (“his/her words are hot”) to convey the same idea: that their words carry real power in affecting the world around them⁵.

And similarly, the expression Maipe Kannai-ña (“His/Her hands are hot”) refers to someone who has a tendency to kill plants when handling them.⁶ It’s the opposite of a “green thumb” in English, but conveyed through the Chamorro worldview that uses the concept of heat to indicate an exchange of energy, which often has powerful or even harmful effects.

Minaipen Chålan: What We Carry Home from the Road

This concept of heat and spiritual energy is also reflected in something Tan Maria talked about in her interview, which is known in Chamorro as Minaipen Chålan, or “harmful energy from the road.”⁷ The harmful effects of this energy can result in a person falling ill, and this ailment is known as Gine’hin Chålan.

The belief is that when we travel, we inevitably encounter different kinds of energy—usually from spirits and sometimes from people—and some of that energy can “cling” to us and make ourselves or others sick.

One of the aunties from our practice group clarified that describing it as “harmful energy” doesn’t mean that the energy or its source is always inherently evil or malicious. Rather, it refers to the potential to cause harm, whether or not the source of that energy is positive, negative, or neutral. It’s similar to the concept of ma’aggodai—a reaction born of affection or excitement that can still bring negative effects to the recipient.

If someone picks up negative energy from the road, they may come down with a fever. And if they’re not careful, that same energy can be passed on to others they come into contact with—especially a baby or young child—who may also fall ill with fever.

While there is traditional medicine for treating gine’hin chålan, Tan Maria also described an ancient Chamorro custom for managing this spiritual “residue” from the road. Traditionally, when returning home, one would wait about 10 to 15 minutes before entering fully. You might pause outside the house or just inside the entryway, allowing yourself time to become måpåo—to “cool off.”⁸ In this sense, måpåo isn’t about lowering your physical temperature, but about giving any energy you’ve picked up time to dissipate.

This cooling-off period becomes especially important when there are vulnerable people in the home—a baby, an elder, or someone who is ill. Without waiting for that spiritual energy to dissipate, you risk carrying in the energy from the road, passing it to others, and making them sick. A harmless return home can become a moment of energetic transfer with real physical consequences.

Shared Understandings Across Oceania: Mindfulness Around Transitions and Spiritual Exchange

This mindfulness around transitions between spaces—and the resulting movement or exchange of spiritual energy as we move through different spaces—is also reflected in other Pacific Islander cultures. Lino Olopai describes a traditional Carolinian practice, now rarely observed, among their community of navigators:

Before a voyage, they [the navigators] had to prepare to receive the ocean, to move away from the land spirits to the ocean spirits. Then when they returned home, they had to move away from the ocean spirits. If a man had been too long on the ocean and went straight home, a newborn child in that house would get sick because of an ocean spirit.⁹

What connects these different traditions is a shared awareness that crossing thresholds—whether from sea to land or from road to home—requires mindful care. We encounter spirits and different energies in those spaces and must allow them time to dissipate before entering a new space. These ancient practices remind us that travel, arrival, and sharing space are not merely physical acts but spiritual ones as well. As we move through the world, we not only encounter and are shaped by what we meet – sometimes, we bring unseen things back with us.

Contemporary Chamorro Practices in Daily Life: What Are Your Experiences?

As you finish reading, I invite you to think about the moments when you’ve seen these practices lived out in your memories—or how you continue to carry them today. Maybe it’s in the way you pause before entering a place, the prayers you whisper before going on a hike, or the care you take when returning home. Perhaps without realizing it, as we move through the world we carry forward these same practices of our ancestors. How do these ideas live in your own life, family, or community? Where have you seen these practices carried out, perhaps without realizing their deep and ancient roots in our culture?

Footnotes

1. Manuel Flores Borja and Jose Somorang Roppul, Directory of Traditional Healers & Medicinal Plants in the Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands: Special Edition: Chamorro and English Only (Saipan, MP 96950, Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands: Inetnun Kutturan Natibun Marianas, 2022), 334. ↩︎
2. Forbes, Eric. “THE LUTA ACCENT.” Paleric, March 26, 2012. Accessed October 16, 2025. https://paleric.blogspot.com/2012/03/luta-accent.html. ↩︎
3. Manuel Flores Borja and Jose Somorang Roppul, Directory of Traditional Healers & Medicinal Plants in the Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands: Special Edition: Chamorro and English Only (Saipan, MP 96950, Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands: Inetnun Kutturan Natibun Marianas, 2022), 334.  ↩︎
4. Manuel Flores Borja and Jose Somorang Roppul, Directory of Traditional Healers & Medicinal Plants in the Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands: Special Edition: Chamorro and English Only (Saipan, MP 96950, Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands: Inetnun Kutturan Natibun Marianas, 2022), 42. ↩︎
5. Eric Forbes, “TODAY’S CHAMORRO WORD : MAIPE,” Paleric, April 29, 2011, accessed October 16, 2025, https://paleric.blogspot.com/2011/04/todays-chamorro-word-maipe.html. ↩︎
6. Eric Forbes, “MAIPE KANAI-ÑA,” October 12, 2020, accessed October 16, 2025, https://paleric.blogspot.com/2019/08/maipe-kanai-na.html. ↩︎
7. Manuel Flores Borja and Jose Somorang Roppul, Directory of Traditional Healers & Medicinal Plants in the Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands: Special Edition: Chamorro and English Only (Saipan, MP 96950, Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands: Inetnun Kutturan Natibun Marianas, 2022), 115. ↩︎
8. Manuel Flores Borja and Jose Somorang Roppul, Directory of Traditional Healers & Medicinal Plants in the Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands: Special Edition: Chamorro and English Only (Saipan, MP 96950, Commonwealth of the Northern Mariana Islands: Inetnun Kutturan Natibun Marianas, 2022), 115. ↩︎
9. Lino M. Olopai, The Rope of Tradition: Reflections of a Saipan Carolinian (Saipan: Northern Mariana Islands Council for the Humanities, 2005), 64. ↩︎