Shamanism and words

It’s hard to put Shamanism into words. And yet words, for me at least, form a huge part of the practice.

There’s the added complication that here, in the UK, we’re referring to Western Shamanism, which is a curious thing: a mixture of many of the healing techniques and ceremonies common to those in indigenous cultures; and a Western mindset which is couched in therapeutic practice and language. It’s a hybrid experience, a place where what we say, as in any area of life but most especially in healing contexts, is of paramount importance. Visit  a Peruvian shaman and they might  not say much, or they might deliver a message from spirit in a very direct way. More on this in a minute.  

Working in the West we cannot, according to the father of Core Shamanism, Michael Harner, refer to ourselves as Shamen – this is a title reserved for indigenous Shamanic people. I increasingly find this odd, especially as I am indigenous to the Celtic parts of these isles, and my aboriginal Jewish ancestors were some of the oldest Shamen on record.

My moniker is ‘Shamanic Practitioner’ and so be it - it’s the work that matters, the healing that happens. I, and other western practitioners, have our ancestral lineages and traditions which inform our way of working. We are rigorously trained in working with helping spirits and ancestors, and feel deep reverence for the origin of these practices. But when you come and see me you don’t enter a hut, filled with smoke, and lie down in order to be wordlessly healed. You’re not worked on and then dispatched. You don’t hear something like, ‘There is an evil entity attached to you and….” There is often smoke, and dance, but first there are kind words. We connect with our eyes and our language. I listen, deeply, to your words and hear two narratives: yours and those of your compassionate guides and ancestors. It’s a bit like the ‘gloss’ monks used to put over biblical texts. As you talk, spirits talk – and tell me what to do.

It wasn’t always this way.

During my training, which was rigorous and conducted by a highly esteemed Shamanic Practitioner in Core Shamanism, it was constantly impressed upon me that ‘it’s not about talking’ ‘it’s not a therapy session – you are listening to spirits only and doing their work’. We were schooled in how to shed ego and become a ‘hollow bone’, to be in those moments nothing more than a conduit for spirit.

Except that, if we are to be true conductors of spirit, truly ‘hollow bones’, then what comes, comes - and we have no control over that. And what comes for me is the need to listen, usually quite a lot. As I became more experienced, I was able to really follow this guidance – behaving in a more authentic way from the second I met the client. Listening to what they brought into the room, really holding space for them to say what, often, has been left unsaid for decades.

And it turns out that this ‘healing talk’ is actually a component of many shamanic traditions – for example the native Mexican medicine women will invite you to talk and they will listen very carefully to all you say. Perhaps because I received several healings this way myself, for some other mysterious reason, and/or because I am also therapeutically trained in psychology, when I am in ‘hollow mode’ I am guided to prompt and listen, prompt and listen. As mentioned above, I hear two narratives: the client’s, and that coming from spirit. Spirits will tell me the questions to ask (and often they can question the oddest things – but it all turns out to be not odd at all), and this leads the client to make further reflections and connections which will be deeply significant for the healing.

Because in the West we are used to thinking in terms of cause and effect, and we construct the story, or stories, of our life, often using the same words over and over again in doing so. Sometimes the words themselves need to be changed in order for us to change our patterns of behaviour.  It’s not up to me. The spirits point out things which should be recognised in our internal narratives. They point out the origin of these narratives, which are often ancestral. They tell me the healing to do and in what order. At the end of the session, after soul retrieval or depossession or ancestral healing, there is a different story. We talk again, about the client’s impressions, often forgotten memories are recalled, both mentally and in the body.  Emotions, viscerally held, can release. And I relay my learnings from the work, and any messages I was given to pass on.

This is how it is when you come to me. With other Shamanic Practitioners it will be different. Because you can only train so much with a human teacher, then every practitioner has to find their way. Similarly, you can only work up to the limits of human language, then give it all up to spirit. So much of our full, human experience cannot be verbalised. The practice of Western Shamanism is a constant dance between two worlds – the best of both worlds, I believe – the worlds of ‘ordinary’ and ‘non ordinary’ reality. Both are required, otherwise healing cannot be easily rooted in everyday life. It can fly off into the ethereal realms, disconnected from your life, your thoughts, your words. Whereas in fact what brings about the greatest improvement is healing which is embedded in our awareness, our thoughts and words, those we use to ourselves and others. It helps us become contented, better people, in an everyday way. Which is the only way really, isn’t it?