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Shamanic Initiation
In our previous column (5/06), we discussed aspects of what it means to be an authentically-initiated shamanic teacher, and in doing so, we attempted to provide some guidelines for those who are seeking a teacher, as well as some thoughts for those in the process of becoming teachers themselves.
The buzzwords for that discussion (and the ones that follow) are the terms authentic and initiation, and we have already offered some thoughts on what facets of the teacher’s character might indicate whether or not they have actually experienced this.
Shamanic initiation is probably the least well understood of all the many forms of spiritual awakening. It may also be by far and away the most powerful.
And so in this column, and the next, we will attempt to say something about it.
For starters, shamanic initiation is not about having mastered a body of knowledge, nor is it about having “spent time” immersed in this or that indigenous tradition. Authentic shamanic initiation is not achieved by having completed some long-term training program, nor is it conveyed by having participated in many levels of ritual or ceremony.
These experiences do have their place in our personal spiritual unfoldment, yet authentic shamanic initiation is something quite separate from all of the above.
Let me also put in here that I agree with others (often indigenous people) who proclaim (often with fervor) that shamans are not produced by reading books, nor are they created in workshops.
Shamans are born, not made, yet books and workshops do have their place in that they may bring the initiate into connection with an accomplished shamanic teacher who may recognize them for who and what they are.
The shamanic neophyte is a person who becomes aware that they possess a cluster of unusual abilities, usually through experiencing them directly. Some beginners simply stumble into this awareness. For others, it is as almost as though they have been “chosen” or “seized” by the folks on the other side of the mirror--an experience that may be revealed through intense dreams or visions or through actual visitations from the spirits themselves.
For the unprepared, this can be problematic, to say the least.
Most Westerners do not live in communities in which interaction with spirits is part of their experienced reality on a daily basis. The shamanic initiate may have no clear idea of what is happening to them, and given Western psychology’s tendency to pathologize behavior, they may find themselves in fear of their “paranormal experiences.”
They may also find themselves very much alone because they usually discover rather quickly that they have to be very circumspect about with whom they share their experiences.
Under these circumstances, connection with an authentic shamanic teacher can be life changing, even life saving, yet in the same breath, it must also be said that the mantle of authenticity and initiation is not conveyed to the shamanic aspirant by the teacher as is common in Wicca or Yoga, Zen or Tai Ch’i.
On the shaman’s path, authentic initiation can only be conferred by the spirits themselves.
The responsibility of the shamanic teacher in this dynamic is to facilitate the aspirant’s contact with their spirit helpers, spirit teachers and ancestral spirits, assisting them in understanding what is going on and providing them with guidance as well as a secure foundation upon which to build their spiritual practice.
That said I would like to explore some of the events that convey authentic shamanic initiation. And in doing so, I am very much aware that many of my Meta Arts readers may discover that they have experienced (or are experiencing) the invitation to awaken to who and what they are.
As a lead in, I could observe (without judgment) that initiation into the spiritual traditions of Meditation, Yoga, Kabala, Buddhism, Zen, Vipassana, Tai Ch’i, Qi Gong, Chanting, Sufi dancing, and even Kundalini or Kriya Yoga are like a walk on the beach compared to shamanic initiation.
This is because the shamanic “Experience” usually begins with some sort of personal crisis, often of epic proportions—an earth trembling, soul shaking, life altering spiritual emergence (or emergency) that can be ego shattering—one that often looks a lot like mental illness to the Western medical world.
The details may vary somewhat according to who is experiencing what, but inevitably, the inception of shamanic initiation brings the experiencer into a direct, transformative relationship with Death.
At the onset, Death almost always approaches the initiate in the form of a spiritual being. I’m talking here about The Angel of Death—an awesome spirit of immense power who may draw near to us in some culturally determined form in which it invariably functions as both a teacher and as a threshold guardian.
As such, this great being extends an invitation to us that may not be refused—an invitation to directly experience the extraordinary Power of Nature, as well as entrance into the mythic Underworld.
This is not an experience for the merely curious, the spiritual dabbler, the dilettante, or the well-intentioned amateur in search of the exotic. It is also highly unlikely that you will encounter this great being at New Ager angel workshops in some hotel ballroom.
Not all who encounter this formidable spirit survive the experience. But for those of us who do, Death becomes an omnipresent companion, the One who is always with us… the One who serves us as our “Watcher.”
This is not about Brad Pitt chatting up Anthony Hopkins in the film Meet Joe Black… or is it?
Allow me to provide you, the reader, with a dramatic example of this encounter from my own life experience…
The First Encounter
In August 1983, my wife Jill and I were living in the hills of Berkeley, California, where I had just completed my doctorate in Anthropology at the local branch of the University of California. Jill was nearing the end of her first pregnancy, and all her ligaments were loosening up in preparation for birthing.
One morning around 4 o’clock, I emerged from my dreams to find her awake, unable to sleep because of her discomfort. I sat up sleepily and began to massage her long back and hips, trying to help her relax. The magic that touch creates progressed slowly into a joyous marital encounter… yet despite all efforts, Jill remained uncomfortable and wakeful.
She turned on a light and opened a book to read. I was in a state of bliss from all we had just experienced together and was just dropping back down into the dream when suddenly, my mind resurfaced. It was as though something had triggered some inner alarm.
I felt a peculiar sensation in my body, and as my attention turned toward it, the feeling intensified dramatically, sweeping into me with a rush, much like a wave engulfing a beach.
With a jolt, I became aware that that I was almost completely paralyzed, virtually unable to move a muscle or even close my hands. I managed to open my eyes with a gasping intake of breath and saw momentary spots of light interspersed with strange geometric designs and zigzags against the darkened ceiling of our bedroom. A transparent arc seemed to coalesce out of the lights, and then the bedroom disappeared as though I had momentarily blacked out.
When my vision came up a heartbeat later, I found myself in a forest in almost total darkness. Around me in all directions, I saw tall black tree trunks and branches—black on black. The overarching trees were huge, and the night was total and very still. The illusion was dream-like, yet vividly real. Paradoxically, I could still feel myself lying in bed and I could hear Jill turning the pages of her book.
The fact that I was paralyzed could have been very disturbing were it not for the fact that my body was absolutely soaring with the most marvelous physical sensations that seemed to both surround and infuse me. They were nothing short of exquisite and quite suddenly the word ecstasy took on a whole new level of meaning.
As my gaze swept across the dark forest, I discovered that if I wanted to look at something, I drifted in that direction. My thoughts seemed to create action. Experimentally, I moved this way and that while I studied this incredible phenomenon with growing amazement. Simultaneously, I could feel the sensations intensifying.
It was as though I was gripped in an invisible fist that was slowly squeezing the breath out of me.
As my breathing became increasingly labored, I once again heard Jill turn the page of her book, and I could just feel the edge of alarm around the borders of my being. Yet each increase in the sensations/pressure was accompanied by a euphoric surge of pleasure mixed with an indescribable joy, and my fear departed as abruptly as it had appeared.
As I continued to look around, perplexed as to what was going on, I sensed the presence of something else… something BIG… and with this awareness, the “something” cut through my absorption with this overwhelming rapture, drawing me toward the dark trees to my right.
There, among the shadowy tree trunks I saw a huge dark form. It was vaguely man-like, and I could make out what I thought was a head and body, but the body lacked arms or legs and was curiously elongated, flat and door-like. The head was rounded and small. The entirety of the figure was completely black and featureless, towering over me like a silhouette or shadow standing upright.
My mind struggled, trying (in vain) to classify what I was seeing. The dark form was considerably taller than myself and looked somewhat like an old-fashioned, black keyhole standing upright among the dark trees. Near its right “shoulder” wafted a spherical orb of light about as big as a basketball. The light hovered motionless above the ground, as brilliant as the humanoid form was dark.
The sensations continued to flow around and through me, exerting pressure both from within and without. I tried to move but I was now completely paralyzed. I heard Jill turn the page of her book and thought to myself “I’ve got to try and tell her what is happening.” But my jaw was locked and my entire body was as rigid as a stick of wood.
Determination formed within me and I finally managed to slur out the words “The trees… the trees…” and “The shadow… the shadow…” I stared at the dark form and its bright companion and wondered if I was dreaming. Then Jill turned another page and I thought not. This was incredibly, vividly, intensely real.
Was this dark figure the source of the sensations, I wondered… and with that thought, the feelings of pressure, of force, suddenly increased to an intensity almost beyond endurance. They were terrifying and superb at the same time. I was fully conscious, fully awake. I had never in my life felt what I was experiencing in those moments—a full-blown ecstasy.
The power continued to increase, almost as though someone was turning up a rheostat, and then without warning, I felt myself “lift off.”
I drifted slowly upward through the trees until I was standing in mid air high above the ground, turning slowly in space among the leaves and branches. My muscles were quivering and shaking with the force. To fight against the enormous strength that enfolded me seemed absurd. The dark form before me was obviously immensely strong, and yet it hadn’t harmed me.
It was then that I understood that I could be dying, and with this realization, a roaring sound appeared in my ears, a sound of rushing water or wind. And I, hanging in mid air with shards of sheet lightning flashing around me, simply waited to see what would happen next. My curiosity was now fully aroused.
Then… as abruptly as the experience had begun, it stopped.
I was placed back on the ground (gently) and as I watched, entranced, the dark form changed, shifting shape somehow or altering its integrity to become an ordinary shadow blended with the trees. Simultaneously, the sensations that had held me rigid began to flow out of me in slow surges, each one less powerful that the last.
Progressively, the trees, the shadow being, and the bright sphere all dissolved, and the darkened bedroom reappeared before my astonished eyes. The paralysis ceased abruptly, and I finally managed to sit bolt upright in bed, my heart pounding and my muscles shuddering in shock. I turned to Jill but she was now asleep.
The residues of sensation faded until they were gone, and the world was ordinary once again. The first light of dawn was illuminating the eastern sky. My mind was reeling.
For a long time I sat lost in thought, wondering what I had just been through. The whole experience was much too real to have been a dream. As my mind raced through the experience again and again, it returned repeatedly to dwell on the identity of that mysterious dark form. I made hasty notes in my journal that lay next to the bed, recording everything that I could recall.
When Jill finally awoke, I told her my strange tale. “That is weird,” she said. “I started to read when you went to sleep. Shortly thereafter, your whole body went rigid. I was concerned you might be having a seizure, but then you started to whisper. You never talk in your sleep, but I couldn’t make out what you were trying to say. In the end, I decided that you were dreaming, that you were OK, and so I didn’t call 911.”
This reassured me somehow. Something had really happened…
In the days that followed, I thought it odd that I had categorized the dark form as “the shadow.” I was aware that the psychologist Carl Jung had conceived of the “shadow” as a mental construct or projection of the dark or repressed side of the self. I considered this idea at some length. Could the dark shape have been a creation of my own mind? It had seemed quite separate from myself, but if it wasn’t a mental projection, what was it? It had felt neither hostile nor benevolent, but as I was held in its vise-like grip, I had become aware that it expressed feelings, one in particular.
As I was spun slowly in mid-air among the tangled branches, the dark being had seemed curious about me.
In retrospect, the entire event had had the quality of a challenge, as if something or someone were saying to me “Here, let me show you something—now what are you going to do about it?” But who or what had issued the challenge, I wondered.
Although I didn’t know it then, my initiation had begun. This experience, and the ones that follow, are adapted from the first pages of my autobiographical book Spiritwalker--an unusual account of my initiation into the shamanic worlds that has been published in 13 languages.
We will continue our discussion of authentic shamanic initiation next month. Until then, allow me to invoke the spirit of my great Hawaiian friend, the Kahuna Nui Hale Kealohalani Makua, and with his blessing I extend to each of you the Light and the Love of the Ancestors, The Source of Life, rejoicing in the Power and the Peace, braided with the cords of Patience, revealing the tapestry of the strongest force in the Universe, your Aloha.
--with warm thoughts--Dr Hank
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