The Shaman's Paradox and an Excellent Fedora

I would like to think of myself as non-materialistic. It fits with my philosophy and ethics and general worldview, so when I find myself coveting something that is – to my view – outrageously expensive and unnecessary, I have to take a moment to be mindful of what is happening.

Now, I will admit to having a fondness for fedoras and that I try not to leave the house without one. I like a warm head and shaded eyes...and I suppose there's a bit of my sense of identity wrapped up in it as well. My dad wore fedoras, and this is one way for me to express my loyalty to him. However, I generally find my fedoras on Ebay and pay no more than $50 for one, which should last me for many years. So I was surprised to find that, when I came across some truly amazing hats – the kind "they don't make anymore – being produced by a little company in Tennessee, I was so taken with them that I am seriously considering ordering one, even though they start at $800.

At first, I tried to laugh it off and let it go, only to find that the idea of wearing such an excellent hat kept re-emerging. So I took a look at it. What was is engaging about this? What deep hunger is it tapping into? Why can't I just shake it off and be done with it? It took awhile sitting with this quandary before I realized what it was about.

One of the aspects of life as a working shaman is that, on the one hand I need to keep myself very grounded in the everyday world, in order to be able to do my work and relate to my clients. On the other hand, I need to stay in touch with Spirit/Soul, in order to do my work and relate to my client's souls. I spend as much as six hours a day in soul awareness, working with clients, in addition to my own personal practice. So keeping myself grounded in the relative world of the ego is sometimes difficult. (It helps to have a lovely wife and daughter, who keep me engaged with their loving presence.) I call this the Shaman's Paradox – that I need to live and function in two apparently contradictory realities at once. Buddhists – who have an excellent vocabulary for this sort of thing – refer to it the relative and absolute. It's not that it's so difficult, but it does help to have "things" to anchor me into the the relative world. Since my ego is already aware the permanence is an illusion, it really likes to have something that is at least long-lasting. These hats remind me of the fedora I wore in art school – a gift from my friend Troy Gerth. It was a buttery soft, fur felt stetson, probably made sometime in the mid-40's. It disappeared at a senior party in the foundry, right before graduation, and it was a great loss.

When I think of wearing one of these fedoras, I feel myself suspended between the relative and absolute – enjoying the beauty, quality and comfort of the relative world, while appreciating its fleeting nature with equanimity. This brings me to a place of peace about my apparent obsession with ordering a very expensive, custom made fedora, but it doesn't get me any closer to doing so. However, it does keep me very aware of what I yearn for in this relative existence. When I hold such a well-made object, constructed from the best materials, I experience the beauty of it's design, the care with which it has been made, the sensual quality of its material and the sense of all these elements coming together in a meaningful way – assuring me that there is value in this experience of being human and being Here. I realize that I look for these same qualities everywhere in the world – in myself and in friends, in my home and – apparently – in my hats. Not such a bad thing, I think.

Note: I visited with my dear friend and mentor, Eli, yesterday. When I told her about the hats, she said, "You should do like they do in Italy. Put it on your wish list and ask your friends to contribute. Then you could have a present from all of them that you would really love."

I'm considering this.

The Ambiguity of Shamanic Practice

In art, when two shapes are very close together or touching, this creates a visual situation that is often uncomfortable for the viewer. This is even clearer in the classic image that can be seen as either two profiles or as a vase. The mind can look at one or the other, but has difficulty seeing both simultaneously. In a similar way, the shaman is constantly dealing with a much larger paradox: That of the soul and the ego. The awareness of the soul is non-dual and lacking in the sense of self, while the consciousness arising from ego is locked into the dualistic world of time, space, and all the related bits and pieces.

This makes for a situation which most people find distinctly uncomfortable, but which is necessary for the shaman to maintain in order to do the work of healing the soul level wounds. Much of this healing is accomplished by the shaman maintaining an open awareness of soul while holding the client within the field of this awareness. This allows the soul of the client to align with the client's ego in a productive and healing (and Mysterious) way. This is a fascinating subject in its own right, but for the moment, I am focusing only on the ambiguous nature of the practice for the shaman.

Another classic example of the ambiguous nature of shamanism is Journeying. This is usually done by extending the consciousness of the shaman into a different body – one that is capable of moving into and through the three worlds and beyond – while still maintaining some function in the physical body and ordinary consciousness as well. So you are sitting in your physical body and speaking to a client about what you are experiencing simultaneously in your shamanic body. This is rather like patting your head and rubbing your stomach at the same time – only more so.

The root of this ambiguous nature is simply this – and it actually applies to everyone and everything, but shamans tend to be more impacted by it – that the nature of existence is both absolute and relative. This means that the relative world – the one we generally consider "real" – is present on one hand, while on the other, the absolute is also present. To make this a tad clearer, I will offer my personal favorite creation story.

Before the beginning and outside of space, the One rests in its own awareness. This One contains all that is. It is a resonating singularity, unexpressed in any way, until it looks into the void and sees its own reflection. Its response is to jerk away from this reflection, this "other." This response sends the One away from itself. This movement creates the very space through which it moves, and creates time by moving from one moment to the next. This flight from itself continues until the One – now manifesting as two – begins to yearn for the wholeness of itself. Much like a rubber band will resist being drawn out too far, and upon release, will try to return to its original shape, the Two/One begins to move back towards its source. However, having created the relative world of duality, it is now trapped within this creation. As the separated parts of the whole come back together – now manifesting as the primal duality of Matter and Energy – they find instead that they cannot reunite, but can only connect in a more limited fashion. Matter is suffused with energy and becomes animated. Energy is contained by Matter and experiences resistance. This mutual experience is the birth of Consciousness. Consciousness is the reflection of the Awareness of the One, within the world that is created by its dissolution.

Clearer?

moving on...

Okay. I am going to let go of deer hunt part II, since it's been sticking in my craw for the past few months without any movement. Instead I offer this train of consciousness clearing of my virtual "throat" to kick out the jams and get the juices flowing.

Ahhhhhhhh! So much happening. So many little discussions, distractions and destinations to explore. I am currently engaged in an on-line workshop in Tibetan Meditation. Yes, I know. I was a bit leery at first as well. On-line workshop in meditation? Really? But it does seem to be working and - like anything else - it's really all about what you put into it. I've been getting up at 6:00 AM in order to sit and practice my QiGong before Meghan (my adorable and demanding almost 1 year old daughter) gets up in the morning – otherwise it just doesn't happen.

Patricia, Meghan and I spent a couple of weeks at the end of March over in Ireland, which is a great place to be at just about any time, just outside Kenmare, County Kerry. We walked an average of 1.5 hours a day and actually did very little that we had planned, instead staying close to "home" and making sure that we had Meghan back at the self catering Holiday House for her afternoon nap and bedtime. This did not leave time for my planned hike around the Ring of Kerry, or any of the other mildly ambitious ideas I had for how we would spend our vacation. Mind you, I am NOT complaining. This was possible one of the most enjoyable and relaxing vacations we have had yet - and that's really saying something.

But I really said all that just to set up for something only vaguely related. Our friend Lisa flew over from Germany to stay with us in Ireland for 5 days and we got a few decent chats in. On one of those chats she managed to stir up some shadows I've not had to deal with for awhile. She was pointing out - in my own mind - that I have the capacity to be extremely successful as a shamanic teacher, writer, etc. She believes that I could teach over in Europe and I know that she's right. So I had to ask myself, why am I not pursuing this?

Okay. There are a few layers of answer here. The most immediate reason is that I am very involved in being a new papa, and that is not a process that I want to be any less engaged in than I am...usually and for the most part. Workshops and conferences in other cities already take me out of town approximately every other month. I think that's probably enough for now. That easily brought the consideration to a halt, at least on a superficial level – but I gradually became aware that it was still ticking away at deeper levels. When I hear about a wildly successful teacher who is offering essentially similar or even lesser material than what I do, I sometimes find myself struggling with my decision to put my "work" on a back burner for awhile.

Initially I saw this as my ego feeling jealous that it wasn't getting its just deserts for all the work it was doing. (My ego/I can sometimes get rather full of myself.) So I passed it off with a compassionate smile, assuming that it would dissolve, as such things tend to do. Instead it stuck around. It took me a couple weeks to realize this. It came to me just recently as I was reading about this recently disrobed zen monk/priest and feeling torn between righteous indignation at his sexual misconduct and compassion for the hungers and shadows that have driven him there. It suddenly occurred to me that I am not being entirely aware of my own process here.

I tend to be rather good, or so I allow myself to believe and pride myself in, at paying attention to what my soul, spirit allies, ancestors and teachers want me to be moving towards. This is probably more true than not, but in this case, I realize that I am actually cowering from what I see as "success." While my reasons are perfectly reasonable, they are also allowing me to avoid something I fear: That if I actually become "too" well known or well paid, my shadows will start chewing on me as well. And so maintain a pretty low profile, make sure I don't do anything that would attract "too much" notice, and tell myself that I am showing integrity by being a good husband and father.

It occurs to me now that, while true – this is also a pile of crap. If I was really ready to face my demons, I would easily find ways to move my work of Post-Tribal Shamanism forward while still having quality time with my family.

Not a comfortable place to find myself it. Just goes to show you, as soon as you start resting on your laurels, they will start poking you.