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?

revving up the blog & the difference between Shamanism and Therapy

Okay - so. Just has a meeting with some students from the University Marketing Department, who gently reminded me that I need to be updating my blog at least once a week...as opposed to once every six months. In the interest of getting off on a fresh start, I offer the following:

A couple weeks ago, someone questioned the validity of my delineation of shamanism and psychotherapy, and I was not able to give a satisfactory response. Having given the matter some thought, I'm still not sure I can clearly articulate the difference. However, I am becoming much more aware of the quandary.

What I have said is that "the psychotherapist aims to heal the mind, while the shaman aims to heal the soul." While this is true, at least in many cases, it doesn't really address the fact that "soul" and "mind" are only words we use to map the landscape of the human experience. I cannot even say that the tools and intention of shaman and therapist are all that disimilar. The more I work with really excellent therapists, the more I come to see what they are doing as shamanism by another name. At the same time, the way the psychotherapeutic literature describes the process excludes much of that the shaman offers.

As a shaman, I can go to places on the map of human experience that most psychologists or therapists are trained to avoid. I can speak of the spirits of ancestors and of connecting with missing pieces of the soul, or of journeying to the spirit of the land to make peace with the place you live. On the other hand, I do not work in terms of diagnosis and I am constantly holding an intention of integration toward wholeness in my awareness, which guides my words and actions when in session with a client. Perhaps it is this difference of focus and mapping that allows me to differentiate my work from that of the psychotherapist.

I will dwell on this more. Thanks for getting me thinking about this Joshua.

the Deer Hunt – part I

It is 6:05 AM. I have just forced myself from bed in the still dark hotel room. Stumbling over pillows and comforter knocked to the floor during a night of tossing and turning, I make my way to the lit bathroom and crank on the shower. A few minutes later, much refreshed by the scent blocker bath gel, I pull on my layers of hunting garb and prepare to head out in to the early morning. I stuff my army surplus pockets with sheath knife, binoculars, freezer bag, vinyl gloves, hunting license and permit, tag protector, cell phone (on vibrate) and permission form, signed by the owner of the land I'm headed out to hunt.

I scouted the land again yesterday afternoon, stopping by at the house to pay my respects to Gene. On my walk down the access road, I watched a snake slither across my path just ahead of me. I smiled at the good omen. Everything looked good. Plenty of deer sign, though I didn't spot any actual deer. I did check out the man-made pond, where I saw a yellow spotted frog, and a dried creek-bed, where I saw a chipmunk and lots of deer tracks. I took time to connect in with the land spirit as well as Deer spirit and Grandfather. All signs looked good. After a few hours of practicing my somewhat silent and stealthy stalking, I went off in search of a hotel room for the night.

Arriving at Gene's farm house, I kill my lights before they can shine in his windows and park in front of the open pole barn. I open the back of my car and begin going over my checklist. I seem to have everything I will need. I consider taking the coil of rope with me, just in case I get lucky first thing and need to string up the carcass to do the field dressing, but I don't want to load myself down, so I decide I will come back for it after I tag the deer. I take only one arrow, with the assumption that I probably won't have more than one chance to shoot anything. Knocking the arrow, I head out for the access road. It is still mostly dark as I practically skip down the partially graveled road. I am moving as quietly, but quickly as I can, balancing speed and quiet for what I hope is a happy medium. I see the turnout for the pond and move more slowing in hopes of surprising some deer at their morning drink. No luck. It's just me and a few birds. I take up a position on the far side of a small mound, so that I will be out of sight of any does and bucks that come wondering up from the west.

I've been squatting here for over an hour. The sun is above the horizon. Fish are popping the surface of the pond and a duck flies overhead – but no deer. I move into shamanic body and journey into the Under World to chat with Deer. I assure the Old One that I am here to honor the old contract between humans and the deer. I make offerings of tobacco, corn, salt and beans. I've been making these visits for the past month, leaving offerings and asking for Deer to help me find one of HIr people on this hunt. As usual, I don't get much of an answer. The dew is beginning to dry on my bow where it has settled into the long, sawtoothed grass. It is time to move.

Cutting back across the access road, I decide to try some more stalking. I wade into the waist-high weeds at the tree line, carefully turning to avoid the curving limbs of berry bushes with their hooked thorns. Now I want to be really quiet, so I go to stalking mode and am doing pretty well, until I lose my balance and come down hard on some twigs, snapping them loudly in the stillness beneath the trees. There is nothing I can do about it, but I begin moving even more slowly, carefully threading my way towards a large tree that probably has a clearing around it. As I approach the tree, I see that someone has built a tree stand against the trunk . . . several years ago, and it is now hanging off at an angle. Not something I would want to try to climb. Peering through the undergrowth, I spot another big tree that I think I recognize from my scout yesterday. It has wide undulating branches that make it look a little "spooky." Smiling to myself, I begin working my way through the trees, brambles, berry bushes and assorted unknowns toward this landmark.

Suddenly aware that I could get lost in here, I stop to orient myself. I can make out the open sun-lit space of the access road off to my left. The spooky tree is straight ahead. That puts Gene's house and fields beyond that, which means that I have already strayed out of the proscribed hunting zone (the farm I have a signed permission form for) and into what I've been told "shouldn't be a problem." Forging ahead, I make it to the tree with spreading arms. The undergrowth is more sparse beneath the limbs of the tree, so I can move more freely. I peer off in all directions, wondering where the deer may have bedded down for the day. I touch the ground with my fingers and send a prayer to the land spirit, asking for its help on this hunt.

New Post-Tribal Shamanic Video – Shamanic Journeying VS Creative Visualization