I love working in the garden.

What to some people may seem like just a few square yards of questionable soil surrounded by chicken wire and weeds is, for me, both Sanctuary and a connection to Pachamama’s greater Mystery.

I picked up the lettuce, spinach, onions, and tomatoes at the Lowe’s down the street from us, and I threw myself into the rototilling. After turning over the soil – a precarious mix of Jersey sand, hard pan clay, topsoil, and organic compost – I stood silently for a few moments, drew a small pinch of tobacco from my pouch, and offered a prayer of thanks to the Great Spirit and the seven directions before sprinkling the tobacco over the freshly tilled earth.

Soon the tomatoes and the leafy greens were in. The onions had been soaking for a while, and so I set to work placing them into their new home. Is I drew the loose soil around the last of the onions, I thought about watering them a bit before I mulched them. I remarked to myself that the first water that touched them should be rain. At that precise moment, a small raindrop splashed the back of my hand. I laughed, and thanked Creator and the Thunder Beings for their gift. I noticed that a very fine mist had formed, and reached down to find that that the lawn was soaking wet. In my absorption with the Garden, I’d failed to notice the almost imperceptible rain that had been my constant companion.

As I stood up to stretch, the sky, which had until that time been heavily overcast, parted to reveal a brilliant patch of blue, and the sun poked through for the very first time that morning.

I went to the hose to wash my hands, and a gust of wind nearly blew my hat away. As I headed to the garage for a couple of tools, something suddenly dawned on me. The Earth of the garden, the Water of the rain, the Fire of the Sun, and the warm Breath of the wind had all come to supervise my meager project, bringing with them the blessings of the Elementals and the reassurance that life is life, and that in the Creator’s eyes, all life is sacred…

Eventually, predicaments like this generally end up working themselves out. It’s a matter of muddling through and treading water until the tension breaks. For me, that moment came the other night.

I was blowing off steam about my situation for the hundredth time to my wife (I fully acknowledge how difficult this particular stretch has been for her, and I also realize how blessed I am to have found a partner who, even while facing her own questions about where to go with life, is willing to simply listen and be supportive.) In the midst of it all, I looked up and said, “I’m not asking for much here. I don’t want to hit the lottery. I don’t need to know how it’s all going to work out. I just need a little push. Just a little sign to show me where I’m headed; something so clear that I can’t possibly miss it.”

Tired and frustrated, I went to bed shortly afterwards, and the answers came that very night in the following dream.

I‘m standing in front of a Doctoral level math class, which I’m expected to teach despite my being an English major. Behind me stands an older professor taking notes on my performance. Then I remember that before the class can begin, I need to lead them in a song. I fumble through a hymnal, and before I can find something appropriate, a group of women in the class begins to sing. I attempt to sing with them, and they all fall silent.

I have no clue as to what I’m supposed to lecture the class about, and everyone in the room begins to sense this.

Suddenly, an idea hits me. “What were the problems you covered in the last class?” I ask.

The professor smiles, nods, and starts to write something down on his clipboard.

The class begins to answer, and everything they say goes completely over my head.

The professor steps up to the board, draws a diagram, and begins to explain it to me as if I’m fully versed in what he’s showing me.

This scene fades, and I’m standing in a mall. Ahead of me are the Math professor, a security guard, and a rustically beautiful woman with olive skin and a short boyish haircut. I’m aware that she and I have very strong romantic feelings for one another, but up to this point, we’ve really only flirted.

As I approach the group, the professor and the security guard turn to leave. The woman walks over to me and we embrace. We turn to walk through the mall, our arms around the small of each other’s backs, and she turns toward me and kisses me very lovingly. I return the kiss, and then I feel myself wanting to be more forceful. As I try to kiss her more passionately, I’m aware at my sense of disappointment at how gentle she’s being. With that, the dream shifts, and I’m staring at a bathtub drain with a stopper covering it. I grab the chain, and then I wake-up.

Looking back on it all, the first part of the dream reflects recent changes in my work environment. Due to shifts in the official structure, I now find myself surrounded by highly technical people. I’m often amazed – and not a little bit humbled – by their knowledge. This often leaves me feeling like an outsider. And yet, because of my Training position, there’s often an assumed level of knowledge on my part. Being a non-technical person by nature, it’s ironic to find myself in the position of IT Trainer, and the people around me sometimes don’t quite know how to take me.

The second part of the dream speaks to one of the central issues I’ve been facing since I began seriously walking this path. The woman, a beautiful and earthy balance of masculine and feminine qualities, clearly represents my calling to a life of healing work. I know that should I completely devote myself to it, the practicality and security of my daytime job – as represented by the Math professor and security guard – will completely go away. That being said however, I know that there will eventually come a time where in order to fully serve my Creator and All My Relations, that this is exactly the step that I must take. And yet, as her reactions to my advances in the dream clearly demonstrate, I must be patient, and come to this gently. Otherwise, as the somewhat obvious third part of the dream suggests, I’ll pull too hard, and everything will go down the drain.

Since the dream I’ve had a better perspective on things. The duties of my job are starting to change, and falling more in line with what I’d originally envisioned them to be. My sense of dedication to my healing work has also been renewed. I’ve come to know a deeper sense of peace with myself and my surroundings. And I have been shown, yet again, that the Creator turns no deaf ear to the words of those in need. . .

You do not choose to walk this path; the path chooses you. And when it does, you cannot help but follow. It hunts you, draws you in, governs every decision you’ll make until the day you drop your robe and return to all that is.

You will leave a great deal of yourself scattered upon the road behind you as you walk. You will lose your friends. You will lose your family. You will lose the places you used to go and the people you used to be; but having paid that fee, you will gain your freedom.

These you will call upon for their counsel in the loneliness of your days: the River, the Wind, the Earth, the Spirits. And if you are worthy, and your reasons pure and unencumbered by thoughts of personal gain, they will answer you in a language beyond words.

Do not enter here unless you are prepared to bar the door behind you.

This is not a game. This is not a fad. This road is not a peaceful journey towards the gentle fields of enlightenment. It is hunger. It is shadow. It is fire. It is pain. It is humility. It is joy. It is truth.

The nights are wild and full of shapes that dance along the edges of your vision.

The mornings are dappled gold and sinewy gray.

You burn with the light of creation itself; and you weep for the pain of every living thing.

You will know the suffering of others, and walk between their nightmares. You will know their fears in ways even they cannot.

And for your labors you’ll receive a bit of fur, the occasional feather, and answers to the thousand questions of your life. . .and ten thousand more will rise to take their place. . .

I am no longer amazed by the generosity of the Universe. Instead, I have come to accept it as being as much a part of its existence as the very air we breathe.

I’ve been in a pretty strange place these last few weeks. I’ve been drifting quite a bit, and feeling like most of the world has been slipping away. I’ve been lost, and emotionally rocky, but somehow through it all, I’ve not lost the awareness that it’s simply part of the changing patterns of my life; and that once I’ve walked through it, I’ll be much better for the experience.

As I alluded to in my last post, I attended a very powerful sweat lodge last Saturday which was poured by a very loving Elder whose humble and mirthful ways speak volumes of his power and connection to Spirit. I knew, as soon as the flap came down, that I was in for an E-Ticket ride; and after the sweat was over, I was certain that some subtle, yet powerful shift had taken place. This was confirmed for me when, for the entire next day, I had almost no energy whatsoever. This is odd for me, because generally I feel charged the day after a sweat.

Yesterday morning I woke up sweating and feeling a slight chill. I attributed this to processing what had happened in the lodge and a heavy cold due to recent stress. My calendar at work “mysteriously” cleared the day before, so, taking my wife’s advice, I called in sick.

After feeding the cats and attending to a couple of morning chores I went back to bed. As I was lying there, I decided to open up to the healing energy as I’ve done whenever I’ve given myself Reiki. I lay there, feeling very highly connected to the living energy and Spirit’s presence. I asked Spirit to let the energy flow gently, so I could process it; and in my head I heard a voice very loudly and clearly say the word “LOVE”.

Then everything went silent.

I drifted off to sleep shortly afterwards. I dreamt that my wife and I were in bed. She was sitting there in a white silk robe looking 20 years younger. Her skin was almost pure white, and she was radiant. The blinds were up, and the sunlight was streaming into the room. My head was in her lap, and she started doing some Reiki work with me. Then, she took her fingers and began to press, gently but firmly, into my eye sockets, just above my eyes; a technique I’ve learned to relieve tension headaches. It felt amazing, and I could sense the energy flowing through her fingers and through my brain.

I immediately woke up. I had the slightest headache, which left after a couple of minutes, but the cold, and my emotional issues, were completely gone.

My gratitude for this healing is beyond words. Even now, if I sit quietly for a few moments, I can feel the living energy flowing through me; and I am greatly aware of my interconnectedness with everything.

What a blessing it is to be a part of so much love. . .

He guides us as children: never in a demeaning way, but with ample love and humor.

Tears flow with my first prayer and continue on and off over the course of the lodge, mingling with my life-water and the flowing river of Tiwa.

When the flap is opened a final time and we exit Mother’s belly, he takes hold of my hand and with an expression of pure compassion says only, “Bless you.”

It is a gift to share the inipi with this man. . .

-Matthew 22:37-40

Often it is the meaning of those things with which we have the greatest familiarity that seems to elude us the most.  I cannot even begin to count how many times I heard these words in the Gospel readings at the Roman Catholic church where I served as an altar boy well into my teens, and at my Grandmother’s Pentecostal church where I attended Sunday School on weekend visits as a child; and always, the focus was on an outward expression of that love.

Again and again, I was told that I was a sinner – that I was unworthy of God’s divine love, and even less so of receiving the body of his Son; and yet I was also told that as a follower of Christ it was my duty to love my neighbor as myself.  If one is taught from the time he is old enough to understand such things that he is utterly worthless in God’s eyes, how can he expect his feelings to manifest in any way differently towards his neighbor?

All these years later, and due in no small part to my recent metaphysical studies, I have come to see these often-repeated words in a whole new light. Certainly Jesus’s teachings encourage us to love our neighbor.  But I have also come to understand that his words mean a great deal more than simply this.  The things we feel about ourselves will certainly manifest unto our fellow human beings, and by extension, the rest of the world.  If we cannot first recognize the divinity inherent within ourselves, we cannot hope to recognize that same divinity in anyone or anything else, and as a result, will have no problem exploiting them for our own material gain.

This, I believe, is why we so frequently see our leaders in the Western world holding aloft the Bible with one hand, and beating the drum of war with the other, while our lands are stripped of their natural resources, and the arm of our military might grows ever longer.  “When Fascism comes to America,” Sinclair Lewis tells us, “it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying the cross.”

The nightly news is filled with reports of atrocities fueled by religions whose persecutory dogma have broken the backs of their followers with their own supposed unworthiness almost since birth.  How different this world would be if more of us had been taught that we are divine beings, created by a loving God who deems us worthy of sharing this beautiful world equally with All our Relations; and who in His infinite wisdom has placed us here as its caretakers.

Imagine for a moment if instead of separating God from the whole of creation and forcing us to buy ourselves back into His graces through Faith and good deeds, our Western religions instead taught us to embrace God as an inseparable part of all that is.  How many wars would we then wage in His name?  How many peoples would we attempt to convert to His “one true way” if deep in our hearts we already believed they were vessels of His light?

I have recently discovered  a great deal more in Jesus’s words than I did so long ago;  and I have also come to recognize a common thread in many other teachings as well.

In the inipi, or sweat lodge ceremony, for example, we pray in four rounds, the first of which consists of prayers offered for ourselves. Here we pray for strength, for guidance, and for healing.  And here we also cry out for a vision.  While some might consider such a practice selfish, the Elders tell us that we have every right to pray to the Creator for our own well-being, because in the Great Hoop of Creation, every living thing depends upon us.

In our lives, we are wives and husbands, adult children of aging parents, brothers, sisters, partners, parents, and caretakers of everything that exists.  As such, we need to be strong and healthy, blessed with clarity of vision, that we might better serve all beings with whom we share the entirety of Creation.

We cannot hope to do this on our own, and so we ask the Creator to bless us with His wisdom, and the things we need for the greatest good of All.  In this sense, we recognize that we are the touchstone of the Creator’s love.  We are the place where the pebble strikes the surface of the pond, and all that stirs within us ripples outward, influencing everything it touches.

It is no coincidence that as the water splashes the red hot Grandfather stones, and the steam rises towards the roof of the lodge, our Elders tell us that “Our prayers go into the center and rise out to the Universe.  They resonate forever among the Heavens and the stars, and return to bless us all.”

The teachings of the ancient shamans make clear that we must heal ourselves before healing our neighbors. Once we have healed our neighbors, we are able to begin healing our communities. After our communities have been healed, then – and only then – are we truly capable of focusing our efforts upon healing the world.  Whatever we may feel about the condition of our planet, we may do nothing to effectively help Her until we have taken the necessary steps towards bringing healing and balance into our own lives.  Without first accomplishing this, we can only sew anger, discord, and illness upon the very Earth we would seek by our actions to heal.

It is evident then, that the nature of the world in which we live hinges directly upon the way we treat ourselves.  If we poison our bodies with Styrofoam-wrapped, chemically-enhanced garbage, why should we treat our water supplies - or our children- any differently?   Understanding this, one would do wisely to consider the words accredited to Hermes Trismegistus: “Know then the greatest secret of the Universe: as above, so below – as within, so without.” 

We also find this principle beautifully illustrated within the Native American Medicine Wheel. As we stand in the East, with the rising of the Sun, a vision is given to us by the Creator.  That vision stirs within us in the emotions of the South, and manifests itself through us into the physical world in the West.  Finally, everything in Creation receives the benefits of that vision in the North.  Only if we are truly open to the will of the Creator, place our egos aside, and let that vision flow through us unimpeded by personal desires, will it enter the world for the greatest good of All.  Yet if we seek to bend that vision to our own selfish desires, or lock it away and refuse to share it with those for whom its gifts are truly intended, it will die on the vine, or worse, it will fester within us and rot, leaving nothing but pain and suffering in its wake.

I was once told by a teacher of mine that a Capitalist might look at the world and say something like, “modern man is building more computers today than he ever has before,” while a shaman observing the same world might offer something to the effect of, “Computers are using mankind to manifest themselves into the physical world at a much faster rate than ever before.”

This reflects perfectly, I think, the idea that all things are a living gateway through which The Divine’s creative impulses are expressed.  To put it plainly: all possibilities exist in an unmanifested state.  These possibilities bubble up randomly and vibrate within every living thing.  In Man’s case, he has been given the gift of free will, which allows him to decide whether or not he will act upon those impulses.  One could even say that we are like transistors, deciding whether or not we will allow that energy to continue to flow through us and out into the Universe.

If an impulse is allowed to continue, it then manifests through us, and “tunes” us to a different frequency.  Rippling outward, these vibrations reverberate against others around us, who then choose whether to allow themselves to resonate at that same level, or to continue to resonate at their own.   As an impulse gains momentum, it may grow to influence an even larger aspect of creation.  One need only look to the ideals of Nazi Germany, or the success of internet viral marketing campaigns to see this principle in action.  One also observes this clearly in the phenomenon of sympathetic resonance, where, for example, if two tuning forks are placed within close proximity, and one is struck, the other will soon begin to vibrate at the same frequency.

The idea that the world at large is deeply affected by what we carry within us is also summed up succinctly by Mahatma Gandhi, who entreats us to “seek to be the change (we) want to see in the world.”  With these words, Gandhi shows us that change can only come from within.  As we allow ourselves to change, the world around us will begin to do so as well. If in fact, everything is vibration, as Quantum Physics, and many other religions tell us, Gandhi’s words make absolutely perfect sense.

Consider also the work of Dr. Masaru Emoto who examined frozen water crystals through an electron microscope, and photographed their perfectly symmetric structures. Next he took the same water, and placed it into beakers labeled with phrases like “I Hate You”.  When he froze the water in these vessels, he found that the crystals were deformed. He and those who follow his work believe this experiment offers irrefutable proof that our emotions have scientifically measurable effects upon the world around us.

So how does this affect one’s everyday life?  I would say that the implications of this understanding of Christ’s words, coupled  not only with the examples expressed here, but also with countless others easily researched, are nothing short of staggering if truly taken to heart.

How can one comfortably foster violence, hatred, and bigotry in one’s own personal spiritual space, knowing that once these feelings have taken hold, they will ripple outward beyond the confines of one’s own skin and resonate throughout the entirety of creation?

If we allow concepts such as these to poison our own minds and bodies, how can we continue to lay blame for the murder, starvation, corruption, and rampant exploitation of natural resources witnessed today at the feet of any but ourselves? In recognizing this, however, we must also allow ourselves to recognize that any radical shift towards healing, peace, and forgiveness, as witnessed in the works of Martin Luther King, Gandhi, Mother Theresa, and Jesus Christ to name but a few, all began with one single human being allowing a divine light to shine into the Universe through the lens of his or her own person; an act of which any one of us is truly capable. . .

In the dream, my wife Marie and I are sitting in a darkened room amongst a circle of women.  I’m beginning to feel out of place here, like this is a gathering specifically for women, and I should leave.  In the center of the room, lying on the floor is a woman who’s requested healing from the group.  A few of the women are on their hands and knees over the woman lying on the floor.  I understand that they’re placing their wombs over her, (representing the unlimited creative potential of “The Spirit Within”), to allow them to act as a gateway for the healing energy to pass through them and manifest itself within the woman’s body.

As I witness this, I really start to feel like an intruder.  I’m convinced that this is a mystery belonging to women only, and that, out of respect, I should leave.

At this point, the woman at the head of the circle, a friendly, maternal woman in her 50’s or 60’s comes over to me and invites me into the back room with her.  We sit on opposite sides of a large desk and begin to talk.  Behind her, on a set of bookshelves are a large number of sculpted frogs (representing transformation), the largest of which is a fountain with water running out of a frog’s mouth.

She begins to tell me about a woman who was there recently who was a well-known spiritual leader.  She tells me that her people went to a lot of trouble building sets for the woman and that, after her lecture, she took the sets with her and paid the people who built them 3 dollars per piece.  The older woman is very disappointed in the lack of respect that their guest had shown for the people who did all the work.  (I feel like I’m receiving a warning here to be wary of fraudulent teachers, and those who are only into it for the money and the fame.)

Suddenly, I’m aware of the sound of rain.  I look out through a screen door which has appeared in the back wall, and see a herd of goats trying to get in out of the rain.  The woman just sits there talking to me, ignoring the goats.  Suddenly the rain turns into marble-sized hail.  The goats are getting pounded, but she continues to ignore them. (This, I interpret to mean that some people just won’t get it until it’s way too late.  I think the notion of  “separating the sheep from the goats” here is pretty accurate.)

Then, the ground begins to rumble, and through the back door I see a wave of earth rolling towards us, shaking the building.  “What was that?” I ask.

“An earthquake,” she answers.

I watch as the wave ripples past, and soon an enormous mountain peak bursts up through the ground, sending another shockwave through the building.

We get up and go to a window on the left wall.  Through the window, I see a gigantic archetypal male form in a fetal position beginning to unfold and rise up on its back into the air. The form is composed of energy, and I’m aware that this means that the Ascension is taking place; that the energy form represents the male-oriented consciousness of the current society, and that it is finally is beginning to reach a higher spiritual level.

I’m also aware of thinking that I should go and wake up my mother, so she doesn’t miss this.  I’m torn, because I also don’t want to leave while this is happening.  Then I realize that even though my mother is asleep, if she’s meant to ascend, she will.

I turn to the older woman and say,” It’s finally happening…It’s finally happeing!”

She smiles.

Next, I see a building all done up in gaudy neon lights, similar to the Luxor casino in Vegas.  From it rises a looming male figure (a cheap neon imitation of the figure I’d seen earlier) ascending towards the sky as crowds of people gather to watch.  It feels hokey, and I keep saying, “This isn’t real…this isn’t happening…”  The woman looks sternly at me, and I add, ”What we’re seeing here…THIS isn’t real.”

She smiles again, and says something like, “Be sure you say that.”

I look up and see a second moon forming in the sky.  The second moon is blurry, as if out of focus.  The second moon  comes into focus and shrinks down to the size of a star.  When it does, a red circle of energy forms around both, and the whole construct streaks across the sky to stop over what I know is New York City.  When it does, waves and waves of fireworks and flames shoot upwards from Manhattan, forming what looks like a mushroom cloud.  I know instantly that what I’m seeing is taking place on a spiritual level, and that it isn’t a nuclear attack.

Suddenly, it’s no longer nighttime.  From the looming mushroom cloud, a billow of smoke forms into an enormous, ghastly looking fly and swoops down towards me.  I’m unafraid, and I hear a voice in my head – my own – saying, “it will appear to some people as a fly.”  (I know in the dream that I’m remembering a prophecy that I read.  The prophecy indicated that most people will only perceive the physical events taking place around them, and will miss the spiritual implications completely. )

Now I walk away from the window.  I meet my mother walking in her sleep.  Her body is bent at an odd angle, and her hair is white and straight with short bangs. When I wake her up, her hair becomes curly and gray, and her eyes turn a golden yellow / brown.

Now we’re in the basement of the place.  It’s a cavernous basement many floors deep.  Here and there are the remains of white brick walls.  The floors have been ripped out, and the older woman who talked with me  is going about some kind of ritual work.  As she does this, a group of young men come in.  One drives a vehicle adorned with snow fence and pieces of junk made to resemble some kind of fantasy creature (or maybe a triceratops).  Another, dressed in a barbarian costume swings a heavy sword at it.  The third man, also dressed in fantasy style (black leathers and green quilted vest) gets run over by the vehicle. (This, I interpret as our getting lost in entertainment, video games, and movies while the world crumbles around us.  We escape into other people’s dreams as our own fall away.)

After this, Marie and I are walking through the streets of a city that is filled with trash, but almost completely devoid of people. Ahead of us, in the distance, is the mushroom cloud.  I stop and grab a paper from a newsstand.  The headline reads, “A City on Fire.”  I page through the paper and the newsy, an Iranian man, tells me to put it down and grab another one, the reading copy, to look through.  As I open to the title story, I see photos of mutilated corpses.  These are undercover cops who’ve been working on infiltrating the New York Mob and have had their cover blown.

This confirms for me that the events I’ve been witnessing have taken place on two levels. On one, it’s a spiritual ascension.  On the second level, the city is beginning to devour itself, and the average man, embroiled in the media hyped crap and petty struggles of the day, has missed the whole thing.

I set the paper down (I don’t “buy it”), and Marie and I resume our walk toward the mushroom cloud.  I’m aware that my perception of the city is metaphorical, and that even though to me it seems almost completely deserted and overrun with trash,  to the ones who haven’t ascended, it appears the same as it always has.  I turn to Marie and say, “How can I go back after this?”

She looks at me and says, “you can’t.”

It is at this point that I wake up.

I’m still sitting with this, but even after this short a time, I know this to be a life altering (and affirming) dream.  I’m sure there are implications here which will affect me for a long time to come…

-T.S.Elliot

“The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”

I’m walking a brighter path these days.  In ways both subtle and obvious, this is evinced to me on an almost daily basis.  This morning’s example revealed itself in the passing glance of a stranger.

As I type this, my wife is at the airport waiting for a flight to Ohio.  She’s heading out for a workshop this weekend, and leaving me behind to catsit and putter to my heart’s content.  The workshop is focused on the creation of therapeutic laughter.  It’s the kind of simple and beautiful madness I’ve come to love both in the world and the way my wife dances through it.  There’s a touch of Heyoka in her, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.  I’ll lay low now and wrestle with the head cold and wildly swinging body temperatures keeping me home from work.  It’s blankets, hot tea, and movies for the lion’s share of the day.

When we kissed goodbye at the terminal, I noticed a woman standing by the door, smoking a cigarette in the early morning breeze. A quick smile flashed across her face as she watched us say goodbye.  It struck me a few minutes later, as I crossed the bridge on 95, that the woman’s smile was Spirit’s way of acknowledging the bond between my wife and myself – a little joy and a spark of light in what is often a very cold and lonely world.

And then, I missed her…

And here’s the interesting part.  In the past, whenever I’ve missed someone, it’s been a horrible and jagged-edged experience.  Now, however, it’s a healthy thing; a realization of how much I’ve been blessed.  The more I miss my wife, the more grateful I am for having her in my life…and for finally having come to a place where I can easily recognize and accept this.

The Lazarus comparison, it seems, is apropos.

“First you heal yourself,” the old shamans tell us, “…and then you heal the world.”

I think the first step is finally underway. . .

“Eureka’s just Greek for this bath’s too hot!”

-Doctor Who

So, I’m sitting in the bath tub listening to US Bombs “The World”, which is, of course, the way every profound evening of thinking begins; and it suddenly dawns on me that anything anyone does is nothing more than an idea using that person to express itself here in the physical world.

Anything…

…including this idea itself.

Then, once the idea enters the world, it vibrates at a certain frequency and rubs up against other objects (i.e. people). And if that object’s energy level rises to the same frequency, then that object expresses that same idea as well.  Take for example my recent attempt to single-handedly elect Gary Johnson President on Facebook.  It was not too long ago, I didn’t even know who the Hell Gary Johnson was.  Now the idea is running through me and out into the world courtesy of my Facebook page.

“So how can anyone ever make a conscious decision about anything?” I thought (I was a bachelor for a long time before I got married, so I’ve gotten pretty good at holding court with myself).

“The ego does that,” a small voice answered.  “When a vibration comes at you, it’s comprised of different frequencies.  The ego decides which one of the frequencies to tune into.”

“Yeah…”

“So pick whichever one feels best, and go with it.”

“But that’s just an idea expressing itself into the physical world through me, too.  How does somebody ever get away from that?”

“What do you do when you work with a patient?” the voice asked.

“Just let go and let Spirit take over.”

“Then, just do that.”

“Huh…”

“Yep.”

“But, isn’t that just another idea expressing itself into the world through me?” I asked.

“Exactly,” the small voice answered…

From the plains of North America, to the mountains of Tibet, to Jungles of South America, cultures practicing shamanistic traditions have found their spiritual ways demonized by those seeking to bring the light of the “One True God” into the darkness of a people deemed heathen and primitive. Similarly, many practitioners of witchcraft and other pagan traditions were put to the flame during the horror of the Inquisition.

And while these two paths do indeed share many commonalities, they differ centrally in that while shamanism is, as Michael Harner points out, “a methodology” (Harner, 1990); Paganism is “an ancient European…nature religion that worships a goddess who is related to the ancient Mother Goddess in her three aspects as Maiden, Mother and Crone.” (Adler, 1986)

What is it about these two movements that causes them to continue to fall beneath the heel of Western Religion?  Perhaps it has something to do with their closeness to Nature, the very thing which Judeo Christian religion places beneath man, and over which its God bestows upon him imminent dominion.

Harner tells us that shamanism “is not simple nature worship, but a two-way spiritual communication that resurrects the lost  connections our human ancestors had with the awesome spiritual power and beauty of our Garden Earth.” (Harner, 1990)

This sentiment is echoed by Margot Adler in her influential work “Drawing Down the Moon” when she describes pagans as sharing “the goal of living in harmony with nature and…tend(ing) to view humanity’s “advancement” and separation from nature as the prime source of alienation.” (Adler, 1986)

Both Paganism and Shamanism, then, in a sense, return Man to his rightful place in the Garden of Eden.  Once there, his position is not that of ruler over the plants and animals with whom he shares his world, but that of loving care taker and family member.  As Adler tells us,    “Christianity is in absolute contrast to ancient paganism…(it)not only established a dualism of man and nature but also insisted that it is God’s will that every man exploit nature for his proper ends. . .In antiquity every tree, every sprig, every stream, every hill had its own. . .guardian spirit. . .By destroying pagan animism, Christianity made it possible to exploit nature in a mood of indifference to the feeling of natural objects.” (Adler, 1986)

Another aspect of these two movements that flies in the face of Western religion is the intimate contact their followers share with spirits.  Take for example the Eskimo shaman who, in addition to speaking with the spirits of the dead, may also work with “an infinite number of nature spirits that render (him) service, each in its fashion.” (Eliade, 2004) Compare this to the following description applied to one who practices the pagan religion of Wicca, or The Craft:  “She stirs up storms that invade whole communities of people. She conducts vast collective energies to our very doorstep…These undirected unhumanized spirit forces are symbolized for us as ghosts, dead ancestors, gods and goddesses come up from the world below.” (Adler, 1986).

And while communicating with spirits and returning onesself to the leafy bosom of Nature might be reason enough for Shamanism and Paganism to stand at odds with the forces of organized religion, there is at the very heart of the conflict, one central concept shared by both towards which no organized religion, with its ossified and dogma heavy power structure can turn a blind eye; and that is the simple fact that Shamanism and Paganism not only thrive outside the realm of central authority, they rail against it, and more importantly, they liberate those who practice them from its clutches.

Whether Great Spirit or Goddess, the creator is something which can be experienced personally.  The Shaman steps directly into the presence of that which gave him life and pleads for the good of his people.  For the Pagan, “(t)he statue and the sacred grove were transparent windows to experience…means by which the witness was escorted through to sacred ground beyond and participated in the divine.” (Adler, 1986)

And this, perhaps, beyond all other reasons is why both Paganism and Shamanism are currently experiencing a resurgance.  When all around him is measured solely by its material value, and the need to consume has dehumanized the tradesman, poisoned the rivers, and laid the rain forests bare,  many a man will seek comfort in the arms of the divine.  And rather than burden himself beneath the weight of secular authority disguised as the Word of God, would strip himself naked, stand upon the cool green grass, and howl at his Creator.

Our current experience, rife with political scandal, police brutality, insane wars in which greedy and frightened old men attempt to convince the rest of us that carpet bombing civilians is doing the work of God, and stories of child molestations in rectories and chuches, has taught many of us that the word of authority is not to be believed, much less trusted.

And so we’re left to find our own way home, picking and choosing that which rings true, and turning our backs on the rest.  While modern shamanic practitioners often follow the path of Core Shamanism, which seeing the symbols, spirits, trappings, and ceremonies as universal, lifts these things from their cultural contexts and makes them available to all,   modern Pagans often cobble together a religious experience based on everthing “from ancient symbols and ancient myths, to the old polytheistic religions of the Greeks, the Egyptians, the Celts, and the Sumarians.  They are reclaiming these sources, transforming them into something new, and adding to them the visions of Rogert Graves, even of J.R.R. Tolkien and other writers of science fiction and fantasy, as well as some of the teachings of the remaing aboriginal peoples.” (Adler, 1986)

It is as if Western Monotheism, with its shackles of blind obedience has left us cold, and so we weave a patchwork quilt of spirituality and faith to keep us warm.

Works Cited
Adler, M. (1986). Drawing Down the Moon: Witches, Druids, Goddess Worshippers, and other Pagans in America Today. New York: The Penguin Group.
Eliade, M. (2004). Shamanism Archaic Techniques of Ecstacy. New Jersey: Princeton University Press.
Harner, M. (1990). The Way of the Shaman. San Francisco: Harper & Row.