Archive for the ‘Shamans’ Category

Nicholas: From Saint to Shaman to Santa

Friday, December 23rd, 2011

Everyone knows that Santa Claus hails from Lapland, where he spends the year in his elf-run toy factory, pausing only to feed his red-nosed reindeer Rudolf, before loading his sleigh each Christmas and delivering presents to children around the world. But where did it all start, just who is Santa, and why does he perform this amazing role every Christmas Eve?

Santa, or rather his alter-ego Nicholas, was born around 270 AD, not in Lapland, but on the Mediterranean shores of Turkey in Patara. Nicholas came from a wealthy family but his parents died when he was still young. Fortunately, his uncle was Bishop of the adjacent town of Myra and took in the young Nicholas, raising him for the church.

What we know of Nicholas was only recorded centuries after his death but it appears that he succeeded his uncle as Bishop of Myra at a very young age. Slowly, stories about this boy bishop spread. One time, for instance, when Nicholas was on pilgrimage to Egypt, he worked miracles to stop ships being wrecked upon rocks and even brought a dead sailor back to life. This was not the only time that Nicholas resurrected the dead. He also restored three boys to life after they had been slain by an unscrupulous butcher who intended to sell their remains as ham.

Most famous, however, was the help Nicholas gave to three daughters from an impoverished family. Unable to afford a dowry, the father of the girls could not arrange their marriage and feared they would be forced into prostitution. Nicholas, upon hearing of the girls’ fate, secretly left gold in their house, securing their future betrothal and, hopefully, happiness.

Nicholas was later canonised as St Nicholas and became a favourite of fishermen and travellers on account of him saving the ships and resurrecting sailor. Greece, a nation of fishermen, took him as their Patron Saint and he became enmeshed with the Orthodox Church. During the Crusades, pilgrims and warriors would pray to St Nicholas before making sea crossings and they spread his cult throughout Europe and beyond.

As the Orthodox Church moved into Russia, it took its most prominent saint, Nicholas, with it and he quickly became the Patron Saint of Russia. Not everyone in Russia was Christian, however, and the original inhabitants, the Viking Rus, were from Scandinavia. They had brought their pagan Gods with them and it is possible that they account for the first metamorphosis of St Nicholas.

Until recent times, the tradition for much of northern Europe was for St Nicholas to deliver presents to children on his feast day: December 6th (the day of his death). This tradition likely stems from his gift of dowries to the poor man’s daughters. But why he arrives on a flying grey horse, accompanied by mischievous and capricious black-faced elves, is less easy to explain. Unless, from the traditions of the Viking Rus, St Nicholas took on some of the qualities of the Norse God Odin, who also rides a flying grey horse and is accompanied by black-faced ravens. St Nicholas had become a Nordic saint.

St Nicholas’s next metamorphosis likely occurred in the depths of Russian Siberia as settlers forged their way into the frozen wilderness of the north. Local Siberians followed shamanic traditions and, upon hearing of St Nicholas – who healed, brought souls back from the dead, and bestowed otherworldly goods to his community – readily decided that he was a powerful shaman and assimilated him into their pantheon of spirits. An Evenki individual interviewed in 1913 even claimed St Nicholas was ‘Master of Shamans’.

Such shamans often journey to other realms, carried on the beat of their reindeer skin drums. In fact, many Siberian shamans believe their drum actually is a reindeer, carrying them upwards, through the smoke-hole in the roof, and north to an otherworldly reality. Returning with gifts of knowledge, the shaman comes back via the smoke-hole and tells the wide-eyed community of his or her extraordinary journey. All the while, bells on their costume ring loudly, warning the spirits of their passage. If St Nicholas was a shaman then naturally he did the same.

Shamanic St Nicholas likely merged with Nordic St Nicholas to create the legend of a man who travels from the north, pulled by flying reindeer, with bells on his costume, bringing gifts to children made by his helper elves, all delivered via the smoke-hole, now a chimney. In a nod to the distant past, he even wears his bright red bishop’s cloak.

St Nicholas, in his Dutch homeland in northern Europe, is Sinta Klauss: Santa Claus. The finishing touches were added by American writer Washington Irving in his fictional ‘Father Knickerbocker’s History of New York’ and high-jacked by Coca-Cola whose jovial and slightly-overweight Santa took the Coca-Cola brand, and Santa Claus along with it, worldwide.

Rudolph first appeared in a 1939 booklet written by Robert L. May but it is striking that, in Santa’s home of Lapland, reindeer are fond of munching on the hallucinogenic red-and-white fly agaric mushrooms. The local Sámi, who were also partial to the effects of the drug, likely recognised the feelings of lightness it engendered. And a high-flying reindeer flushed with fly agaric may indeed have had a bright red shiny nose. Santa Claus – one time saint, then shaman, and now beloved of children everywhere – had found his companion.

Dark Shamanism: Embracing the Shadow

Friday, July 8th, 2011

I once visited a place in Siberia that local people considered so evil that I needed to purify beforehand, bathing in sacred waters and staying the preceding night close to a mountain sacred to Buddhist tradition. To me, the rock plateau that my guides took me to was beautiful, with views far across the Mongolian steppe, but it was not a place to linger. At the base of the rock lay 36 black shamans, killed whilst in trance by a Buddhist monk and buried there for their spirits to fester malevolence for all time. That salutary visit made me realise that not everything about shamanism was either positive or pleasant.

Many traditional shamans can curse as well as cure. For them, illness and bad fortune is often a direct result of dark shamans inflicting malignant energy upon an individual, usually via spirit arrows they send whilst in trance. Extracting these arrows from a patient requires the shaman to understand and have a working knowledge of how they are formed and sent. After extraction, many shamans have no hesitation in sending them back to the dark shaman; cursing the malefactor as he or she curses others.

In a similar manner, I have no hesitation in defending myself, sometimes verbally, sometimes legally, but often spiritually, putting up barriers against harm and baleful influence. But it has never crossed my mind to curse anyone or send malevolent energy their way. The practicalities of doing so would not be hard – if I can extract negative energy from an individual then I can certainly insert the same – but it just feels wrong. I am sure traditional shamans would just shake their heads and say that I am too soft and my shamanic practice too sanitised by Western views of what is right and what is wrong. Maybe they are right.

Some shamans go further still and we are probably all familiar with the historical Jivaro (now called Shuar) from the Amazon and their practice of capturing heads of enemies. They shrink the heads in order to trap the soul of the person and prevent it from gaining revenge from the otherworld. To the Jivaro, this was not a bad or evil practice but just common sense when feuds between communities could rapidly turn into violent and prolonged confrontation.

Other Amazonian shamans seek more than heads from the slain and will stalk and capture victims who they ritually, and extremely sadistically, torture to death. The precise details are enough to give any seasoned anthropologist nightmares. The shamans then bury the body. When it begins to putrefy several days later – the heat of the Amazon speeding the process – they go back to taste the flesh. If it is sweet like a rotting pineapple, they will take body parts from the corpse and use them as power objects. Whilst many of us might have power objects that we use in our practice, very few would be prepared to go to such hideous lengths to obtain them.

At a significantly lower level of ghastliness, but still unsettling to Western minds, blood sacrifice is extremely common in tribal societies and is often connected with shamanic ritual. In North America, supplicants may offer their own flesh to the spirits and in the Yuwipi ceremony, this may leave people bleeding profusely where they cut flesh from their arms to wrap in cloth as offerings. Similarly, whilst dancing the Sun Dance, people pierce their flesh with hooks connected to the sacred tree at the centre of the dance and rip them out as the climax to the ceremony. Elsewhere, people offer animal sacrifice to the spirits and I have attended rituals in traditional communities where people have slaughtered and burnt sheep for their ancestors. Inca shamans use guinea pigs to diagnose and heal illness, rubbing the patient with the animal until the malignant spirit leaves its host and attaches to the guinea pig. After that, killing the animal prevents the spirit doing further harm. Clearly, this attitude towards sacrifice is not shared in the West, where self-harm is considered a mental disturbance and animal protection laws prevent any form of animal sacrifice.

There is a huge divergence between our Western practice of shamanism and the darker ways of traditional shamans from tribal societies. Does this weaken our practice, leaving it overly sanitised and removing us from the bloody, violent, and occasionally death-ridden origins of our path? Indeed, would there be a demand for weekend workshops on how to curse, how to trap souls of the dying, or even how to procure power objects from the decaying copses of the dead? Possibly not. But these are all parts of shamanism that we ignore at our peril. The world is not always as benign as we might like it to be and knowing how to attack is, if nothing else, useful for defence. As traditional shamans might tell us, if we do not know how to curse, then how can we know how to cure? Maybe we need to look again at dark shamanism and not only embrace our own shadow but that of our tradition too. But remember, in the immortal words of Sergeant Esterhaus: Let’s be careful out there.

The Double-Slit Experiment: The World Really Is How You Dream It

Friday, June 3rd, 2011

One of my favourite experiments from the world of quantum science is the double-slit experiment and, amazingly, it seems to confirm what shamans have been telling us for years: that reality really is what we make it.


Firstly, the experiment. Imagine a photographic plate that records when light touches it. A short way in front of this is a board with two vertical slits cut into it. A short way in front of that is a light source. When the light shines through the two slits, the pattern it makes on the photographic plate will comprise several vertical lines of light with darker patches in between. This is because light travels as a wave and, as it passes through the two slits, it is broken up before meeting again on the other side. This is rather like two ripples meeting on a pond. Where the converging waves form a peak, it registers as a light patch on the photographic plate and where the waves form a trough, it registers as a dark patch. So the effect of shining light through two slits is to cause a striped effect on the photographic plate.


Now things get odd. By using a machine capable of shooting only a single photon of light – the smallest unit of light there is; think of it like a bullet – and using it to fire many discrete photons over time, we would expect the photographic plate to register two vertical lines of light. This is because each separate photon can only pass through one single slit before hitting the photographic plate. Over time, some photons will go through both slits and two lines should form on the photographic plate. But that’s not what happens. Instead, the pattern recorded by the photographic plate is the same as when waves of light passed through the slits. That, realised the researchers, is impossible.


Somehow, the single photon of light divides before passing through the slits, making itself into a wave. Except that photons can’t physically divide in this way. Something else is happening. Scientists decided to investigate further and put small sensors just before the slits, trying to find out what happened to the photon. Remarkably, the result was now totally different and the photographic plate registered two lines of light as expected; the photons when observed behaved like normal photons. The implications of this are profound.


To sum up: photons of light act like a wave (which is impossible), unless we try to watch them do it, when they act like normal photons. Again and again the researchers got the same results. And there was no cheating; the photons always knew they were being watched. So what exactly is happening?


Now things get really odd. We know that the photon, in acting like a wave, cannot divide and so it must therefore replicate itself and, effectively, be in two places at once. This turns the photon into a wave. But not if we’re looking at it, in which case the photon can be in only one place and acts like a normal photon. It seems that we can determine whether and where something exists merely through observing it. As Einstein said: how do we even know that the moon exists unless we are looking at it? You can see why this is starting to look a little shamanic; we can determine where the photon exists and the outcome of the experiment purely through our intention: whether we observe it or not. That’s what shamans would tell us: our intention determines the outcome. But there’s more.


Some scientists do not believe that the photon replicates itself when it acts like a wave but that the entire universe replicates itself and there become many slits that a single photon can pass through, leaving the tell-tale wave pattern on the photographic plate beyond. So this experiment – providing we don’t directly observe it happening – shows a continuing process whereby the universe – our reality – consistently and continuously replicates itself into an almost infinite number of possibilities. The double-slit experiment just catches it at it.


That means that every time there is a change in our world (and there must be a finite number of changes but it’s a pretty gargantuan number) the universe replicates and the future will be different in each. But can we determine how it replicates and, in effect, which future we chose to experience? Shamans would say, yes, we can, and this is what they have been telling us for years. We can make our own destiny through our intention or, to use a phrase from the Shuar of South America: the world is how we dream it. Scientifically speaking, what this actually means is deciding which version of the universe you want to move into as it replicates and which you want to leave behind. Despite the double-slit experiment, scientists would be cautious and pronounce this impossible. But is it?


When you decided to read this blog, another you – now in a different universe – decided not to and is now doing something else (maybe that was a sensible move). Over your lifetime, there must be zillions of universes with you living different lives in each. If we return to the example of the photon of light, what is most important is that you didn’t replicate into two on each occasion but that the universe did. That means that you are the same in every single universe where you exist. But where does this leave your consciousness, the bit of you that looks around and believes that what you see is the only reality that exists? Where does that reside?


Perhaps we have only one consciousness but with many parallel lives. The immediate reality around us now swamps our senses until we believe that this is all there is. Maybe that happens in every life we are living. But if we use techniques that expand our usual consciousness – just as shamans do – then maybe we can connect to our other lives and access an almost limitless wellspring of information and knowledge. This may be why some people can predict the future, why some people can remember past lives, why some are telepathic, and others (such as shamans) seem to have access to information they could not possibly know under everyday circumstances. There is no trick; they are merely accessing information from the almost infinite lives they are living in different universes.


We must be careful not to run away with the science (and I am the first to admit that I am fond of doing so) but, as the scientists studying the nature of reality consider stranger and stranger possibilities, perhaps it is time to ask those other masters of reality: the shamans, who may just quietly nod and say, yes, we knew it all along.

Oseberg Shamans: Sailing to Eternity

Friday, March 25th, 2011

In 1903, Norwegian archaeologists made a staggering find: an enormous Viking longboat buried at Oseberg, just south of Oslo. Tomb raiders had beaten the archaeologists to the finest treasure but the boat and remaining contents are still spectacular and the reconstructed vessel, with silver-inlayed stern and towering mast, forms the centrepiece of the Norwegian Ship Museum. Buried within the ship were two women. After cursory analysis, excavators initially reinterred them back into the burial mound, but they were recently exhumed and have now revealed more of their secrets.

Both women were elderly for the time at 70 and 50 years old. Bone analysis showed they had a good, meat-based diet and the younger even picked her teeth with a silver tooth-pick. These were clearly women of status. Archaeologists initially thought that they were wives of farm-owning gentry and some the objects in the grave not filched by the tomb raiders would not look out of place on a farm. But other objects, including the boat itself, were surely too valuable for mere farmer’s wives. So just who were these women and how did they earn their status? A small leather purse gives a clue.

Opening the purse, archaeologists found cannabis seeds. When burnt, they induce trance, famously used by the Scythian shamans recorded by Herodotus. Another item also hints at ritual: a rattle. It was discovered fastened to a post fashioned into an animal head and covered with sinuous knotwork. The tapestries accompanying the women may have illustrated the shamanic rituals in which it was used.

In ancient Norse society, shamanism or seiðr was the preserve of women. Practtioners were known as seiðkona or völva and they entered trance through drugs or by chanting. Whilst in trance, they obtained prophetic visions of the future. In the case of the Oseberg women, the cannabis seeds and rattle would have facilitated the journey.

Interestingly, seiðr was always closely associated with women and the female gender. Its practice was considered ergi or unmanly and male practitioners were reviled and sometimes even sentenced to death for their traoubles. Even the God Odin was taunted by Loki over his use of seiðr and, as a result, he has become important to the GLBT community due to his shifting gender roles.

The burial of the Oseberg women in a ship may also relate to trance journeys to the otherworld. Throughout prehistory and even into historic times, ships were seen as vessels to enable shamans to reach the otherworld and the dead to reach the afterlife. People were buried in graves shaped in the keel of a ship, images of ship keels were inscribed beneath burial mounds, and, in the far north, people engraved images of shamans onto rocks, banging their drums and sailing in ships to the otherworld.

The Oseberg ship had been securely tethered to the earth with an enormous boulder and it seems clear that it was not designed to sail anywhere in this world. But maybe its purpose was to take the two women, possibly seiðkona – practitioners of Norse shamanism – on their final journey beyond this world and into another. It was a route they had probably followed many times through their lives except, this time, it was to be their last.

The Shamanic Consciousness

Friday, June 18th, 2010

I think, therefore I am. Rene Descartes was onto something writing that line since it is our ability to recognise our consciousness that makes us human; the only species that science considers capable of such a feat.

All other animals are aware of things in the world but not of a past or a future, and certainly not of themselves as a conscious being. Scientists call this ‘primary consciousness’. Humans, by contrast, are aware of both past and future, as well as having an awareness of ourselves as conscious beings. Scientists call this ‘higher-order consciousness’. An awareness of ourselves is probably one of the most basic facts that ever confronts us – I think, therefore I am – and yet asked to describe consciousness, most people come unstuck. Is my consciousness like yours? If my computer can be programmed to recognise it’s own existence, would it have self-consciousness? Can consciousness survive remote from the body and, if it can’t, does that mean it can be located within the body? Explaining consciousness is at the very limit of our ability.

Our consciousness is rather like the stage where all other thoughts and actions take place. It is both our ego and our subconscious. All our thoughts arise from our consciousness. It is like our personal repository of wisdom.

For most people, consciousness is a single state that is constant and unchanging. Besides dreaming sleep (which is often dismissed as irrelevant), consciousness is what defines people as awake, alert, and able to function in the world. There are other states of consciousness, however. Trance, for example, is every bit as real as the usual state of consciousness but is all but ignored in our modern world. Shamanic communities, by contrast, consider altered states are as real as anything in this world and, what’s more, they can be incredibly useful.

When in altered states of consciousness, many shamans describe journeying to an otherworld and interacting with the spirits that reside there. These spirits impart help and information to the shaman that seem to be beyond anything he or she could have learned in any other way. This can include premonitions, remote viewing, or gaining information about events at which the shaman was not present. It seems that being in an altered state of consciousness allows the shaman access to other sources of knowledge. Similarly, many shamans describe working with teacher plants. The shaman ingests the plant to effect an altered state of consciousness and then learns directly from the plant itself. Shamans revere these plants as teachers. But just where does this information come from?

It would be easy to conclude that the shaman accesses scraps of knowledge buried deep in his or her unconscious and then puts them together to form a coherent whole. But this does not come close to explaining how shamans obtain the depth of knowledge or the level of detail that they do. Some of the information that they bring back from the otherworld is so precise and specific that it could never have arisen from the shamans themselves.

There is another possibility. Consciousness may not be something that humans have but something that we have access to. Instead of our minds holding knowledge, perhaps they are like antennae receiving and filtering an external source of knowledge. Rather as a radio receives signals, then unscrambles them to provide music and speech, so our minds also receive signals, unscrambling only those parts we need. Since the knowledge we could potentially access is unlimited, our minds work hard filtering this information to provide only what is relevant.

When we enter an altered state of consciousness, this filter breaks down and our minds now receive vastly more information than before. We can tap into sources of wisdom that usually lie beyond our reach, and we can communicate with plants, animals, and everything else around us. To access an altered state of consciousness is to remove the filter of our mind and plug ourselves into the seething mass of information that always surrounds us but that we usually tune out. For someone unused to this realm, such as an individual experimenting with hallucinogenic drugs, the experience can be mind-blowing. There is sensory and information overload. Shamanism is a means of controlling the flow.

Could it be that animals also have a higher-order consciousness but that their mind filters are set to receive only what they need to survive? And if that is true of animals then what about plants, trees, even my computer. Shamans argue that everything has a spirit and for spirit, we could read self-consciousness. To connect, however, we need to go to a place where the filters are removed and we can interact freely: an altered state of consciousness. Maybe animals do this all the time and we are just unaware of it.

Ultimately, there is no limit to the wisdom we can access or to the knowledge we can hold. If we remove the filter of our mind then the entire universe becomes knowable. If this sounds a little like obtaining the wisdom of God, perhaps it is. God may be the sum of all wisdom: He (or she) thinks, therefore he (or she) is.

Inside the Shaman’s Mind

Monday, June 14th, 2010

Although shamanism takes many and varied forms around the world, what a shaman actually experiences whilst in trance is remarkably uniform. Almost all report leaving their bodies to journey to an otherworld where they meet and interact with spirits. The reason for such similarity lies within the mind itself and the shared neurobiology of every human. In fact, any one of us could have the same experience as a shaman if we put ourselves in trance.

Shamans have varied ways of entering trance but all attempt to slow brain waves from a beta state, the usual rhythm, through an alpha state (which corresponds to light meditation or engrossment in an activity), to a theta state or trance. Whereas some shamans might stay very still and concentrate on breathing or praying, others move about in frenetic dances or whirl like Dervishes. Both types of activity, paradoxically, lead to trance.

The reason for this paradox relates to the way our brains regulate our bodies. The ‘sympathetic system’ of brain activity reacts to external stimuli. It creates arousal in the body through pleasure or pain. The ‘parasympathetic system’ manages automatic processes such as breathing, sleeping, and digesting. It tends towards quiescence, that is, complete still and calm. The two work in opposition and keep our bodies in balance. Is it possible, however, to push either system to extreme. If we undertake physical activities that lead to hyper-arousal, we load the sympathetic system and the activity completely takes over so that we begin to lose ourselves in a state of flow. Similarly, if we undertake activities that lead to hyper-quiescence, we load the parasympathetic system and the mind begins to empty and turn inward.

Beyond hyper-arousal or hyper-quiescence lies a further state, where one system, usually quite separate, overflows and begins to spill over into the other. With hyper-arousal, this happens when our strenuous activity brings waves of tranquillity and stillness, such as the sensation after vigorous sex. The sympathetic system has overflowed and feelings now arise from the parasympathetic system. Similarly, with hyper-quiescence, there can be a point where deep meditation brings a rush of energy that quite overwhelms us. The parasympathetic system has overflowed and feelings now arise from the sympathetic system. In both cases, when one system overflows into another and our feelings no longer correspond to our actions, we experience an out-of-body sensation that is at the heart of shamanic trance.

Many shamans report that gravity no longer tethers their bodies to the earth and they can fly through the air with little effort. Since the active neurons in the brain at this stage of trance have a spiralling tendency, a tunnel opens up before them, formed entirely within the eye retina itself. Shamans recognise this as a portal to the otherworld and they leave their physical bodies behind to travel down it. Limbs might grow longer or detach from the body as the perception of being in a physical form diminishes. These are the first signs that self-identity is breaking down as the overflow of the sympathetic and parasympathetic systems of the brain excludes any outside stimulus. The mind turns entirely inward. This overflow also causes a leaking of imagery from the unconscious mind into the conscious and, as the shaman steps out of the tunnel and enters the otherworld, they find themselves in a startling new reality.

The disintegration of the self continues and some shamanic communities now speak of terrible violence inflicted upon the body. This self-generated fear response stems from the over stimulation of the amygdala, a bunch of neurons that are responsible for orientating the body in space. When a shaman drums and dances with frenzied intensity, the amygadala starts to malfunction and this causes waves of fear, heightening the expectation of violence. Alternatively, with less frenzied activity, it may provoke feelings of religious awe.

Hallucinations start and one of the most common entities to appear is an animal. Scientists call this ‘zoopsia’, whereas shamans call them spirits. Although hallucinations arise from the preconscious part of the brain, there appears to be a definite pattern to them. Jung calls these archetypes and the ‘wise teacher’ seems a particularly prevalent example from many cultures.

Since the body is losing its self-awareness, it appears to someone in trance that knowledge comes from a point outside the mind. Coupled with zoopsia it is not surprising that many shamans speak of guardian or power animals being a rich source of otherworldly wisdom: the wise teacher. Since the unconscious mind is leaking into the conscious mind, much of this wisdom might also appear novel and new.

It is not always an animal that fulfils the wise teacher archetype but it could also be another human, either living, dead, or entirely mythical. Seeing the dead whilst in trance may reveal the origin of belief in an afterlife and the survival of the soul after death. Many shamans speak of contacting their deceased ancestors whilst in shamanic trance.

As the self breaks down, there is a corresponding sense of unity with the rest of existence; there is no longer any individual identity. This may mean a person merges with whatever appears in front of them, such as their animal guide. Shamans often describe turning into an animal’s form and they call this shapeshifting. Others feel that they are one with the universe, as if all existence connects at this higher level. Everything appears to pulsate with energy and contain its own life force, giving rise to ‘animism’, the shamanic belief that all things are alive.

Eventually, any lingering sense of the self disappears entirely and all thoughts and experience appear to emanate from outside the body. Some discern an ultimate authority at this point; a controlling influence that lies beyond human existence and possibly beyond the world itself. It is not difficult for them to put a name to this supreme being: God.

The neurobiology of the human mind explains the similarities that underpin shamanism (and possibly all religions) around the world. Shamans see what they do because of their minds. Whether the otherworld and its spirits are merely hallucinations or are actually real is less easy to determine. That, like most other aspects of religion, is entirely a matter of individual faith and belief.

What is a Shaman?

Thursday, January 14th, 2010

I was once asked to define what a shaman is and, realising that every community has its own way of describing their spiritual practitioners, I knew that I had to be careful. In the end, I broke it down into three defining characteristics. To be a shaman, an individual has to:

  1. Enter trance to gain access to the otherworld
  2. Interact with the spirits that inhabit this realm
  3. Use the knowledge this provides to help the community.

Let’s take each in turn.

Although trance might sound slightly menacing, it is actually as normal and as natural as our usual waking state. We all enter trance at night when we dream but, for the millions of people who lived or live a non-Westernised lifestyle, trance is also a normal part of everyday life. People can enter trance by taking hallucinogens, or they can sit for hours in a dark space such as a cave. But by far the easiest method is to listen to the sound of a drum and let it carry you away on its regular beat.

As you enter trance, your brain waves slow and, through complex interactions in your mind, you become aware of a tunnel opening up before you. By heading down the tunnel, you will eventually come out the other side in a realm that might mirror this one but will have a very different feel and quality about it. This is the otherworld. However, whilst this describes the classic shamanic journey, some shamans do not actually journey down the tunnel but rather open a portal to the otherworlds and invite its denizens to journey to them. Either way, an interaction with the spirits of the otherworld is the next stage of the shamanic journey and brings us to the second characteristic listed above.

For scientists who study the mind, entering trance causes hallucinations, firstly of the otherworld itself, and then of the animals and people who inhabit it. Shamans identify these entities as spirits and seek to befriend and learn from them. Many shamans gain an affinity to one particular animal and this becomes the source of their shamanic power. For this reason, we call these special animals power animals. Often, these power animals (and also other helpers in human form), give advice to the shaman and help them carry out the tasks they have been charged to undertake. This might be to gain knowledge that will be useful when the shaman returns to the normal world or it may be to solicit help with healing for someone who is unwell. This brings us to the third characteristic listed above.

Shamanism has survived for tens of thousands of years. If it were merely a pleasant way of spending a few hours, it would never have achieved such longevity. Shamans always journey to the otherworld and seek out their spirit guides for a reason. It may be for help in the hunt, or to ask for rain to water the crops. It may be to track a lost item, or to find out what is happening many miles distant. However, one of the most common reasons that shamans call upon the spirits of the otherworld is to heal people who are sick. Whether it is an illness that needs extracting, or a lost soul that needs finding, the shaman, if he or she is to truly attain this title, must serve their community.

So there it is: the three fundamental characteristics that define a shaman.