How the Role of the Shaman has Evolved

In the early hunter-gatherer cultures, there is substantial evidence to suggest that the shaman's role covered a lot of territory. The shaman was the healer, the seer, priest, storyteller, judge and even war leader at times. As society became more settled, moving to agriculture and cities, there was more excess food to support those who didn't directly work at finding or making the food. This lead to specialization. Roles that were originally part of the shaman were taken on my others. Priests, diviners, storytellers and others developed their own niches in the culture, and the role of the shaman become more focused on direct communication with the world of spirit.

This original state developed to what we see today in many traditional cultures. The shaman takes care of healing the wounds of the spirit while the medicine man or woman heals the ills of the body. The two often work in tandem for their patients.

In our post-tribal world, we see that the shaman is re-emerging in response to a need that is not being met by the mainstream religions or modern psychology. This need is the soul's hunger for connection – with the earth, our ancestors, the divine and our own selves.

This is the work of the shaman in our current western culture: To bring the pieces of the whole Self back together, realigning mind, body and spirit into Human Being.

The Happiness of Things

What I had started out to write in my blog entry last time - and never quite got to - was that we were much happier as a people (or so the polls told us) before the advent of the consumer society. Perhaps a movement away from hyper-industrial production, mimicking a war economy, would actually allow us to return to a way of life that was happier and more fulfilling for those of us who are not making the huge profits from this absurd financial experiment gone wrong. 

I've noticed that when someone tends to hold onto things rather than throwing them away, people will say it's because they - or their parents - grew up during the depression. For a long time, I simply accepted this bit of common wisdom without question. Now I'm not so sure. From what I understand of the world before the Great Depression, people had the ingrained habit of conserving rather than consuming and discarding their resources. This was not because of any poverty or miserliness, but rather because they had not been introduced to the throw-away culture that we live in today. This was before built in obsolescence, when things were not only made to last a lifetime, but also to reflect the skills and aesthetics of the maker. 

We live in an older home, built in 1915, and its construction reflects these values. Even the radiator covers, such humble creations, are works of art - and have lasted for nearly 100 years. What products made today have any such expectation? Even the houses we live in that were built more recently have a shorter life expectancy. And as much as I love my Macintosh computer, I know that it is already on the verge of being obsolete after only a little over two years. If I want to keep up with the rapidly developing internet and software, I will need to "upgrade" within another year or so. But do I need to? Do I really need to?

I remember very little of my childhood, but I do have some surreal mental snapshots of being very small and there being a room in the house with some boxes piled on a couch. I suspect I wasn't allowed in the room, nor in the boxes, and so they took on an aura of mystery and treasure far beyond anything they might actually contain. I have a vague memory of creeping into the room - I must have been five or six years old - and opening the box to find a curved bronze dagger in a bronze sheath, something that my Dad had picked up on his travels. There was a magic to that chunk of metal that I've never felt from any mass-produced object of any kind. 

So - what have we lost? And what can we regain? I believe that this most recent economic crisis is nothing less than the long over-due response to an artificial economy, and that it can allow us - at least those who take the opportunity to do so - to return to an economic footing similar to that our parents or grandparents would recognize from their own early years. This would mean making some fundamental changes in how we live our lives. With a basic value on "conserve rather than consume" we could put more of our income into savings. We might take another look at things we spend money on and decide that we really don't need more than one television; a cable service with over 100 channels; a new car every three years; new clothes every season; gadgets that we are going to throw out in less than a year; or anything that we are able to live a happy and fulfilling life without. We might even begin to dismiss the idea that have been drummed into us by advertising over the past several decades: That we must consume in order to be a productive member of society. 

This is not to say that I am some sort of enlightened zen master, no longer attached to material things. On the contrary, I rather like my material things. As I was sitting in our Temple room with Patricia this morning, I was noticing how much I enjoy and am comforted by our "things". To some extent, this is because these objects express and reflect our shared aesthetic, and seeing them gives me an illusion of permanence. It is a way in which we extend ourselves into the world around us and claim our territory. With these objects, we say: "I am here! This is my space - my part of the ever-changing world." 

It seems to me that all of the pieces fit together. The throw-away aesthetic leads to shoddy workmanship and to a greater sense of impermanence. This also leads to people spending beyond their means, because they are told that happiness is to be found in having the latest widget, in the most popular color. And of course, it isn't. If the polls are any indication, happiness was something we found in much greater measure back in the days when we put our money into savings and purchased things that would last as long as we did; when our happiness was based on the health and well being of our loved ones; the closeness and companionship of friends; and, on our own spiritual connection with the wholeness of the world. 

Perhaps this crisis is a blessing in a this disguise. If we have to pare back our spending this year and focus on those things that are both free and priceless, it's not such a bad thing. 

namaste,

Kenn

Vision Quest Aftermath

I just got back early this week from a vision quest that lasted from Friday afternoon to Monday morning and I've been trying to write about it with no success. At first it was the lack of verbal thoughts, which persisted all of Monday and a bit into Tuesday morning. Having spent some time out on the front porch with my pipe and a wee dram, things are a bit more clear now. 

Perhaps the first reason that it is difficult to put down in words is due simply to the state of consciousness that comes on after a day or so of sitting in the woods with no company, no food and little water or sleep. We went out on Friday afternoon and prepared our secluded positions, taking them up that evening in the continuing rain. After the first night, I was probably already more altered than I realized at the time. That's often the way of things. I was chanting and meditating a lot, with the intention of altering my consciousness, so it's hardly surprising. But it wasn't until Sunday that I really noticed the extend to which I was no longer in ordinary state. I found that I was actually staggering a bit when I did my morning QiGong. 

The second reason it's difficult to put into words is that much of what happened seemed to be happening to a part of me that was not directly experiencing it. There was at least one point at which I had the distinct impression that my soul had gone on a journey without "me" and that I would only find out about it later. (I'm still waiting.)

Then there's the fact that what realizations I had were fairly . . . compact. For instance, a glimpse of myself in slow motion explosion from my center/the one center which is everywhere/everything constantly emerging from that one center which is everywhere. . . that sort of thing. And GrandFather mentioning that I should really consult him more before doing something like a vision quest (oops!).

But this quality of vagary predated the vision quest as well. Going into it, I realized that I have never led anyone else into this particular process before. I've been teaching shamanic practices since the early 90's, but none of my apprentices have gotten to this point before. (And I'm quite impressed with these two for having made it!) So there was a lot of consideration that went into just how this was going to work. On the one hand, there are no clear parameters for what constitutes a "vision quest" outside of particular medicine societies. So I had to look at my own experiences (should have asked GrandFather) and come up with something that was workable. Then I began thinking, "this is not a coming of age ritual. These are sovereign adults. They should make their own choices about what elements they will include." And so I began drawing back from the role of "teacher" into more of a facilitator position for their process. 

Okay - that's all I'm up for tonight. More on this tomorrow.

Shamanic States of Consciousness

There is a lot written about the experience of trance - some of it quite excellent. However, I thought I would take a shot at it this morning. 

First off - the idea of "altered state" is difficult to clearly delineate, since the boundaries of our "ordinary" state of consciousness are so unclear as it is. That said, most of us car recognize an altered state once we are in it. In, my own experience, there is often a dream like quality, and my body seems to move more fluidly and feel heavier. However, some of the most effective states can feel very similar to the ordinary state. 

When I talk about shamanic states of consciousness (hereafter SSC), I am focusing on those states which allow me to function as a shaman. This includes the ability to simply perceive and express from a soul level of awareness. This is the base level of SSC for me. It allows me to sense what is going on with myself and a client in a non-rational, non-intellectual manner that cuts through the thinking mind and directly addresses the deeper parts, which is where my work is. This state is a very present, focussed awareness, which doesn't feel too different from ordinary consciousness. And yet it is the one most useful to the work I do, since it allows me to interact clearly with the client at various levels - communicating in a way that they can understand and staying aware of their body language, tone of voice and facial expression as well as any surges of energy or emotion arising from their soul.

I move into this state using something I call Medicine Body. This is a simple and effective technique (described in more depth in my workshops and my book) that extends my conscious awareness into my aura. This allows me a much deeper and holistic perspective of what is going on with the client. It feels as if the client is floating inside me and I can sense the flow of their energies very clearly. This also engages my intuitive sense and I find that I am aware of what lies beneath the words the client may be using to describe their problem. Knowing this, I can speak to that deeper level, engaging it in the healing process more immediately. 

There are other SSC that range much more deeply, and which make it more challenging for me to remain connected with, and able to communicate effectively, with the client. It takes more energy to maintain the sense of being in two places at once. This is particularly true when journeying with a client. In shamanic body I may be in a different world all together and communicating there directly to the part of them that is present there as well, but in order to have the client be able to take in the work, I need to also be speaking in my physical body to their physical body. 

Moving beyond the work with a client in an office setting, I want to speak briefly of work in other settings. For instance, performing a sweat lodge ceremony entails moving through many layers of consciousness and back again, while creating space that allows for the participants in the sweat to move through these payers with me. It begins around the fire with the opening of the space that is at once emerging from the center of the fire and from the stone pit in the lodge. This is a treatment of space that is essential to much of shamanic practice - the paradoxical sense of One Center. Entering the Lodge brings another deepening and it sometimes takes a teaching story or prayer/chant to ground that before continuing. Each round of stones is a deepening as well, until it becomes clear that it is time to return, and then the journey back needs to be crafted in a gentle way as well, allowing for a safe and comfortable return by all the participants. 

Over the years, I have been gifted with many teachings to make the movement into SSC and back again. But I am also always finding places and states that are new to me; providing new lessons and new teachings. Every day I go into my office, knowing that I will learn something new. It may not always be comfortable or easy, but it is this constant growth and learning that keep this work fresh and alive for me and those with whom I work. Many thanks to all of them and to my many teachers - in both human and spirit form. 

namaste