Thanksgiving Greeting

Welcome

Dear Readers,
Welcome to another issue of Whispers of the Stones. Last week we completed our final ritual of the year, and it was a lovely night of sharing and healing. One portion of the ritual invited each of us to take a vow. The vows varied from person to person, but I'm confident that all reflected a sort of returning, a homeward journey. There was much to integrate after a semester of exploration and growth, and you will read many stories of integration in the pieces written for this issue.

I have been thinking a great deal about vows for the last several months. I’m sure this was largely due to my preparation for the Buddhist "bodhisattva vows" that I took last November. As I was working through the steps to take these vows, I wondered what it would be like, additionally, to take a vow to remain in heart space. I had been studying Chinese medicine in a very limited and superficial way, but was fascinated to learn that the pinky finger houses the heart meridian, a channel of energy linked to the heart. I went to the local jewelry store in Oberlin, Herrick’s Jewelers, and I asked them if they could have a gold pinky ring made for me that would symbolize this vow to essentially wed with heart space.

I began wearing the ring months before our vow-taking last week, but it was helpful to me to publicly share this vow and give it voice.

One of my favorite teaching stories that exemplifies this vow for me is a story about Ryokan. He was a late 18th-century Buddhist monk who lived much of his life as a hermit.

Ryokan, a Zen master, lived the simplest kind of life in a little hut at the foot of a mountain. One evening a thief visited the hut only to discover there was nothing to steal. Ryokan returned and caught him. "You have come a long way to visit me," he told the prowler, "and you should not return empty-handed. Please take my clothes as a gift." The thief was bewildered. He took the clothes and slunk away. Ryoken sat naked, watching the moon. "Poor fellow," he mused, "I wish I could have given him this beautiful moon." [source: Zen Flesh, Zen Bones]

We can all be modern-day Ryokans. One such example is Julio Diaz, a 31-year-old social worker, who ended his hour-long subway commute to the Bronx one stop early, just so he could eat at his favorite diner. Listen to or read his story that recently aired on NPRs STORYCORPS. “A Victim Treats His Mugger Right.”

I hope you enjoy this issue of Whispers of the Stones. If any of you would like to share a recent vow you made, I will happily publish them in our next issue.

peace, kathy

A Journey Within by Jeremy Johnston

a step down
this eternal stair-
case
merciless
a tumble, a dive
the iris relaxes
plunge
through pupil's depth
thick fluid
I've been told to call you dream
connects my skin
to all forms outside
this point
point point
the projector skips
a point
I miss the frame


iris contracts
face smacks
against harsh air
fast falling
no bungee
more kamikaze
full commitment
needed

crash into
an unpacked room
was born so long ago?
I have barely moved into
myself
where did all this
stuff come from?
here is anger neatly folded
and packed away
in some boxes
I hear muted ticks
ticking I have muted
and wonder
is desire an alarm clock
or a time bomb

I rummage through memories
and find tears
tears and tears
maybe after every goodbye
under every watercolor
a new tear
a tear of joy

but here my body
is frozen and my
emotions run
like a rabbit
with trigger-fear
around a race track
just about to be torn
and eaten by hounds
who are just as hungry
even more scared
and also me

mirrors NO
don't find mirrors
jump off buildings
abandon hearts
but don't find mirrors
to know yourself is
to know every terrible
to know you
are every violation
every murder and every
murderer
every shit server
and every shit eater
you are every mother's
lost child
and every empty
bleeding
longing
womb

a search
a thousand years
all I hold turns to dust
all I am
turns to dust
and gray sand
envelopes
the flame
I lit to burn
an image
into The Mind
so I would
never forget
I once had a face
or a name

grasp at peace
claw at peace
realize you will never find peace
surrender brings peace

the next lesson
the most obvious symbol
Learn Love
but where to find
love that is all the great things
people say love is?

no more walls
no more room
just endless night sky
I hear IT calling
in a distant drum beat
from inside flesh
from inside every chest
all uplift in chorus
as I uplift my eyes

Love has a face
and I embrace each star
through the expanding endless
you are all so far away
yet I am with each one of you
now

Tenderness and Compassion for the Unknowing by Kathy Abromeit

Sometimes in our lives we experience emotional or physical pain that takes us beyond our familiarity with ideas, where we don’t know what to think, where we lose control and take seat in that deep space of unknowing. Fortunately these moments of intensity aren’t that frequent, and daily life is more gentle, where we, often clumsily, move from one thing to the next.

I was reminded of the opportunity to use those little daily challenges as training ground for the BIG moments during our shamanic work with an Asian practice of honoring that which troubles us.

I explained the practice as being an opportunity to make a physical clay representation of something we each wanted to let go of. Then, each of us was to we ask for instructions for what to do with this clay representation. During our journeys, we received different kinds of instructions regarding the destination of the object, knowing that under no circumstances was the object to be taken into the space where we live. There was discussion about the Tibetan monastic practice of feeding the hungry ghosts. The making of such offerings is an antidote to the pattern of negative attachments, understanding that through the making of offerings, one surrenders to something greater. Some people in the circle did get instructions to make such offerings with their clay object, while others were instructed to dispose of the object in a variety of ways.

It is interesting to examine this practice as a kind of extraction healing. We extract the negative attachment and then thank the idea or thought process to which we clung. In some ways, all these problems served each of us in the past, but now it is time to move on.

What I found very interesting about our evening of letting go of these things that trouble us (fear of failure, fear of knives, fear of the unknown, hatred, etc,) is actually its coupling with a dream that I had a few days later. In the dream, I discovered a secret wall in the back of my walk-in clothes closet. The back wall dropped flat, and to my surprise there was a very large and spacious room in the center of my house that I never knew about. It was gorgeous and natural. One of the construction workers in my dream showed me the space and commented that if we lifted the old rug on the floor, he was sure we’d find beautiful, rustic, wide plank flooring. We did. The ceiling was high with skylights. It was fabulous to be in this space.

The next day, I began asking why this dream came to me coupled with the shamanic practice we had just done in the exco. It seems that these issues that we all worked with that night in some way mirror our resistance to life, the holding in the mind, the fear of living. This practice allows us to direct our awareness toward a sense of peace.

Many of us in the circle were dealing with issues of fear in various forms. Interestingly, it seems that these fears serve to remind us that we have come to the edge and are exploring unexplored territory.

When I was a young girl I received an electrical shock plugging in a 220 volt electrical dryer. I have been afraid of three-prong plugs for years, and I was working specifically with this fear. When I would place the plug in a large outlet, I would relive the shock and almost always I find myself shutting my eyes thinking it’s safer if I don’t see the blue sparks that would occur in my mind’s eye. The fear was reinforced each time I attempted to protect the imagined self, and I would have a panicked sense of urgency. My resistance made the situation worse.

As I have been with this extracted part of myself in the spacious open room at the center of being that was revealed in the dream, I experienced a level of compassion for this fear that I have never felt before. In the past I’ve been embarrassed at what I thought of as a ridiculous fear, and I would make excuses for not being able to plug in electrical cords. The room in the dream served to teach me that when doing this kind of shamanic work, it’s important to embrace the tenderness of our unknowing rather than have an aversion to that which we wish to exhume from our being. It takes spaciousness, a warm open place that encourages us to trust whatever we feel. I think this is the special, previously unknown, room in the dream. It’s ironic that we spend so much time running from and restricting our pains, whereas in reality it takes a spacious, loving place to open to that which we have learned to close.

I know that I cannot determine the edge where another needs to meet their desire to exhume. My hope, for those with whom I shared our night of making clay representations of our fears or dislikes, is that when you spend further time with your objects that you will find a sense of spaciousness that allows you to embrace the process with a tenderness and compassion for the unknowing.

I bring this up because there is an additional lesson for all of us in this. Playing with the edge of these lesser pains, such as fear of plugging in electrical cords in outlets, contractions of the heart, or those wobbly places in our mind, prepares us for what comes later. At some point, we all seem to take seat in that deep space of unknowing where our pain, be it emotional or physical, throws us beyond our experience of ideas. This is the moment when we don’t want an obstruction to openness. Spaciously working with these clay objects is a perfect opportunity to train for leaning in to all our experience with compassion.

First Journey by Joseph Blasher

I close my eyes and focus on the rhythmic reverberations of the drum. Sometimes it takes awhile to succumb to the trance-like stage, at other times it as effortless as is. When people ask me what it’s like I usually tell them to try for themselves, but when I’m feeling especially talkative I might liken our shamanic journeys to lucid dreaming. It’s very much a part of me that’s going on, my body doesn’t go anywhere, but I do. It’s nice to tell people that journeying allows your imagination to go free and interact with the metaphysical, but it could also be much more. Is it magic? Is it spiritual? Depends on who you ask and how they feel like responding.

From a Taoist perspective, it is very nearly doing without doing and letting your self be guided by the all-pervading force be it the Tao, God, Atman, etc. I can’t answer questions that pertain to the divine or cosmic powers any better than I believe others can. But I can keep an open mind and at worst be entertained with the notions and ideas that others have of existence and non-existence. I’m skeptical, but not to the point where I don’t enjoy it.

My journeys have significantly impacted my thoughts--not always my action and behavior, but definitely my thoughts. They remind me of lofty principles and the simple but beautiful things I need to keep in mind to put life in a positive perspective. For those that have gone to church or temple or wherever their comfortable place of worship is, when they hear something that resounds within and reminds them of how simple and beautiful life can be--an epiphany of sorts--this what I often get out of my journeys.

As I mentioned earlier, journeys allow more creative freedom that seems to become bogged down with the depressing demands of academia. I used to write quite frequently for fun, short stories, poems. I even started a novel/epic poem that is currently at a standstill. While in college, it has been like pulling teeth when I sit down to write. Nothing comes and instead of relaxing in creativity I’m left stagnant and frustrated in a pool of boring ideas. When I journey, I feel the imagination I had when I was young flooding back in. In fact, I have used my journeys as inspiration and impetus to recommence my long lost joy of writing.

I will share a journey as well as I can recall it. Fortunately, I wrote some notes afterward. Understandably, my recount will only be a shadow or replica at best of the experience I enjoyed that night that seems so long ago.

I laid my head down on the pillow and tried to imagine the most comfortable place I could, a place where I was happy and at ease. This took some time because I knew it was not a place but with people, my family, that I felt this way. So I thought of the last place we went together, the coastal city of Yachats, Oregon. I went there, and fluttered around for a bit. It wasn’t long before I was impatient and not so comfortable. This space was only nice because of the people I had shared it with, and now it was just a house. So I left through the ceiling and wandered my thoughts in search of a new comfort place.

The location came soon enough at a waterfall in Kauai, Hawaii. My family vacationed there four or five years ago and it was hands-down my favorite. I remember walking through grass taller than myself to get there and coming to a clearing that had a sizable stream running through a rock plateau. The stream fell off the edge into a beautiful waterfall. The water below was very dark and very deep. A great tree’s roots grew out of the rock face and people could jump from a very high limb into the water, if they so dared. I must admit that the place of my journey wasn’t tree for tree identical to the real location and never could my descriptions do either place justice. I will leave it to you to imagine a waterfall enclosed with dense, tropical foliage with trees that kiss the sky.

Eyes shut, head on a pillow and allowing the drumbeat to guide my travel, I laid back and fell. I found myself in the middle of the stream, my body submerged in the water and my head resting on a large, smooth stone. I open my eyes to a sunny, cloudless day and smile. I’m back. I sat up and found myself in the same aqua, floral print swimming trunks that I wore in a picture of my family at the waterfall. I look around me and gaze at/imagine the panoramic scene of the tall grass and green trees. I stand and can almost feel the sun drying my soaked skin. Can I feel it, or is this my imagination? I decide I don’t need to care and move on. I was instructed to explore and I’m very eager to do so but don’t know in which direction to start. The decision is made, not sure if I made it, and I head toward the source of the stream. The current bends behind the tall grass and is lost. Dare I follow in this foreign land? I do. The water deepens slightly and is knee to mid-thigh high, and rather cold. But I like cold water. I have swam in mountain water since I was young, and this water is comforting. The stones that comprise the bottom of the stream are smooth, one of the nicest streams I’ve ever navigated.

I walked for some time before I reached a pebbly sandbar on the banks of the stream, which is steadily becoming a small river. I decide to rest there when I see a magnificent walking stick. A sturdy stick, I’ve come to learn, is indispensable to one exploring nature. I take it in hand, lie down and close my eyes. Before long a cloud interrupts the sun shinning on my face and I open my eyes not to see a cloud but a blond female figure. To my pleasant surprise it was my friend Jenny from Capoeira class who’s from Kauai. I ask her what she’s doing here and she asks me what I'm doing here. We laugh effortlessly. We play a short game of Capoeira and engage in innocent, though jovially flirtatious conversation. I tell her I love her island and suggest we travel a little farther upstream. She declines and convinces me to go swimming. We head back downstream and the path of the water seems to have many more curves than it did before. This doesn’t faze me, though. Jenny seems angelic and very happy, as I would imagine her, though she was dropping gems of wisdom like a sage. I’d ask her a question and she would flash her cute smile and say something out of the Bhagavad-Gita or I Ching. She was quite eloquent.

We reached the cliff of the rock plateau and I looked out over the edge to the water. A solid 30-foot fall lay before me. I’ve never been one to like the rush that you get from falling. One of my older brothers loves it but not me, no sirree bob. Anyway, Jenny jumps off without a moment’s hesitation and is gone from my sight. I eventually work up the courage and jump. I have no memory of falling, but I know I was terrified when I hit the water. It was dark and cold and I felt something ominous lurking below. I looked for Jenny but she was nowhere to be seen. How strange? I went in the water, wondering what lay ahead. I heard a giggle and saw her perched on a stump or rock that jutted out of the water. As I was swimming to join her I heard the sound of something heavy falling in the water but landing like a diver, making the ‘ploop’ sound of a pebble--but the size of a boulder. I felt the water ripple with great force and knew it was near. Jenny, probably from my concerned face, asked what was wrong. I told her I was a little nervous of the giant “tree-frog” green snake that was emerging from the water’s surface. She simply said, “Don’t be.” So I wasn’t.

The snake arose and was giant--massive, really. I knew his size was infinite, but at that time he seemed 60 feet long and 6 or 7 feet in diameter. He was beautiful, though. Light lemon-lime scales covered him except for two brilliant, yellow orbs in his head. Later I would learn his name to be Sharpkah. I immediately asked if he would eat me and he said no, he was vegetarian. I thought this odd and looked at Jenny. She nodded her approval. He rose up out of the water and out of sight. I asked Jenny where he went. She said he’d be back. Jenny and I started climbing out of the massive pool of water by the roots of the great tree. She was ahead of me and slipped a little, bumping me off balance.

At this point, my perspective flashed to Sharpkah’s, impossibly high in a tree. He leaped down and grasped me in his maw. It hurt physically (I think?) and I was petrified as he swallowed me whole. As I went down his throat feet first I saw Jenny looking at me. Then I was flipped around and going head first into a very dark, wet and cramped space. I couldn’t move in any direction but forward, so I went forward thinking I might find something there. I felt Sharpkah submerge into the pool and fear surfaced again as water rushed by and filled me. I’ll admit I panicked some, and then felt I could breathe. He told me we were going through a cave to see something, but I told him “No, I need to go back to the ledge.” At this point the drumbeat quickened, Sharpkah turned around and spat me back out onto the ledge. Exhausted, I laid back down in the stream with my head on a smooth rock and closed my eyes. Listening to the quickening drum and opening my eyes to Solaluna studio.

This was my first journey of the semester, and the second one of the night led me to a character named Selfless Müchen who I now believe to be my teacher, but that is for another time. I learned about relationships through this class and am really thankful to everyone, especially you Kathy, who were there. I just read the gratitude book and am genuinely touched by everyone and am sad that it is over. But, like the burning candle, it should not be mourned but appreciated when it is finished. Thanks, Kathy!

Shamanism: Lessons to Take Away by Gary Cohen

Being a college student (often learning things one semester just to forget them the next), I put heavy value on the lessons I can take away from a venture long after it’s over. I have no doubt in this case that I’ve learned something of value. Even were I to stop journeying entirely, I’ve gained an important perspective on the world from my shamanic work.

The mindfulness exercises we practiced late in the semester have important ties to the rest of our lessons. In walking meditation, we learned to be aware of every part of ourselves--the ‘present moment.' In our post-class strawberry-eating exercise, we opened up the senses in a way most people never take time to, and both are mind-opening experiences. Similarly, shamanism teaches us to open ourselves to a whole different world, to be aware of it and to see and feel it. When we journey, we use a different set of senses, so to speak--senses that are simultaneously turned inwards and outwards. In doing so, we can learn things from ourselves and from the world that would otherwise remain mysteries.

One important example is the right relationship journey. Not only did we journey for 'right relationship' with a person, we journeyed for right relationship with an object that’s important to us. How do we respect it? How should we treat it properly? This is a very important consideration. Shamanism teaches us that everything is alive--that everything has a voice. Through journeying, we open our ears to those voices as we opened our senses to our own bodies for walking meditation.

This revelation--that everything has a voice--has been enlightening for me. I find that I put much more thought now into actions I would previously have performed automatically. Now more than ever, I ask myself how my actions affect those around me--not only my friends and other humans, but the environment and the world that I live in. At the heart of it, this is what I think shamanism is about--compassion for everything.

Changes by Ann

I was always one of those people that never really believed in higher powers, or really any of the “spiritual nonsense” (as I once called it) that I heard so many people talk about. I was even one of those obnoxious kids who would scorn and laugh at the crazy, spiritual, hippie-dippy rituals that I noticed people doing in the park in New York City. I have to admit that I never thought then that I would become one of those hippie-dippy people myself, and believe in the spiritual world so strongly.

Since coming to Oberlin, I’ve been able to expand my horizons in ways I never thought I could. With such an interesting and offbeat opportunity brought straight to me, there was no way I could give up a chance in trying something new and so foreign to me, like Shamanism. After all, I’m also one of those people who has to try everything at least once, just for experience’s sake, because I don’t think I can make full judgments about anything unless I see and experience it for myself. So, having heard that the Exco Shamanism was something really neat, and never having really understood what Shamanism meant or was, I decided to sign up for it and hoped to make a more knowledgeable judgment about it.

Having signed up for the class, and going to our first Monday night meeting, I didn’t really know what to expect. All I thought was that I hoped that this would work so I’m not wasting my time. On our first journey in that class, I had a hard time finding my safe zone, as all of the places I ended up at were constantly changing, and to places I didn’t want my zone to be in. Because journeying didn’t really work the first time, I was afraid that maybe I’d never be “loose” enough in my beliefs, and thus never let my mind be loose enough to go on a journey, because I’d be too hung up on how ridiculous this was. But lo and behold, having tried journeying for the second time that night, I found myself in this new crazy world of beings that I had never experienced or could have ever imagined or expected to encounter! I was completely awed, bewildered, and amazed by this experience, and by my own achievement in actually getting it to work for me. I still can’t get over the fact that I can journey into other worlds, speak to higher beings, communicate with the past, and so on. I was so amazed by this class and its spirits, and of course by the profound feelings I felt and knowledge I gained from just one journey, I immediately went back to my dorm and told my friends about it. I thus got three friends to sign up for the class. And having told my friends at home about it, who are amazed that I, the cynical gal about all spiritual beliefs, has become a spiritual believer, and they are now all eager to join shaman practices around their own campuses.

Shamanism, in a sense. changed me completely, as I become more relaxed--“chill” as my friends call it--and more patient after each class. I often look forward to going to class or journeying on my own, or connecting with nature completely. I always feel incredibly rejuvenated and one with nature when I’ve come out of a journey, often feeling that I have accomplished learning something from each experience I have in the other worlds. Thanks to Shamanism, I have learned to accept so many other cultural values as real and legitimate as well, and not just some made-up fantasy as I always presumed them to be, partly because I was raised to be an EXTREME Westerner. I now understand Buddhism, Taoism, and other like Asian religions, and I am now eager to learn more about them too. I’m a much more open person than I was before, and I’m much less quick to judge now. I thank Shamanism and Kathy for accepting me into her class and letting me experience it for my own. It’s a class and experience I still can’t get over that I believe in, and I plan to continue to take more spiritual-well-being classes in the future.

Steering Through Life's Questions by Jessica Dunn

I have always had a close connection to nature and the earth, particularly to animals. Growing up with numerous pets around me constantly, I felt that I could understand them through reading their movements. Yet, I was never able to communicate with animals in any way that could bestow lessons on me. Thus I decided to take the Shamanism Exco to make me more attuned to nature so I could receive guidance from the wisest of the wise--earth.

By the end of the first class, I had met my first power animal. His name is Drew and he is a Flying Deer. (Yes, I know that may seem silly). We seemed to bond together very quickly because of his strong sense of empathy and compassion. In the next class, my other power animal was retrieved for me, a scarab named Humburg. He is the foil of Drew, since Humburg is assertive and speaks his mind very directly. Throughout the semester I slowly got to know these two animals well, and let them guide me through the problems I would face.

During this time, I auditioned for graduate schools in viola performance. I was very uneasy because much of my future plans relied on the fact that I needed to be accepted to a good graduate school and receive a substantial scholarship to afford the program. Thus my plans rested on a few minutes of time when I would either shine or flop. In my journeys, Humburg often told me to put on a “tough outer shell," like him. Thus, anything that could happen would not affect me. In addition to these comments, Drew often told me not to forget why I love performing music, and that I should consider each of my auditions as a chance to touch someone else. These suggestions seemed to be effective, because my auditions went well.

However, after my auditions, worry set in. I had no idea what the competition was like in my field. It was nearly impossible to know how talented the other violists were. Also, money was a big issue for me, since graduate school is expensive and the cost of living may not be calculated into financial aid decisions. Many people reassured me that everything would turn out well, yet I had a hard time accepting those comments. My power animals, however, seemed to have knowledge that I didn’t have (since they are not just ordinary animals). I would complain about not knowing what was going to happen while Drew and Humburg would just smirk at each other, like they knew something I did not.

After much delay, I began to receive my acceptance letters. Yet, many of these acceptances did not notify me of large scholarships, only large loans. Then, I called the one school I had not heard from. The Dean of Admissions stated that I should have received my notification a week ago, but that she was happy to send an unofficial pdf version through email. Before I checked my email, I went to my mailbox and saw this large envelope from the school. When I opened the envelope, I quickly discovered that I was accepted to this school with a full tuition scholarship.

Thus, throughout the semester, my lessons in Shamanism not only introduced me to a wonderful way to communicate with nature. It also created a support system for me to endure huge life issues. I met guides that could steer me through life’s questions.

Journey to Nowhere by Anya Kazimierski

It is a strange feeling, knowing that at a specific point in time you are the only person in a room who is not exploring and existing in another realm. Lying in a circle, our feet all pointing towards the center where incense and a candle burn, I cannot seem to join the other journeyers in their searches for wisdom, advice, and introspection.

I was awed by my friend’s stories of her journeys after she came home from the first Shamanism class of the semester. She said she had spoken to animals, swam underwater only to arrive on dry land, and made friends with a leopard by rubbing its belly. It all sounded so vivid and fascinating that I was immediately excited by the possibility of having a similar experience. After joining the class, however, I became instantly discouraged by the fact that, for each of the twenty-minute journeys, I would lie in the dark, listening to the beat of the drum, stay in my body, stay in the room, and sit quietly afterwards while everyone excitedly wrote their journeys in little journals.

I was initially confused by my incapacity to journey—I figured that perhaps the process was a bit like being hypnotized, that the drum-beat would allow me to slip into a trance-like state. The key to hypnosis, they say, is to be willing to cooperate, to be fully trusting and relaxed. However, it seems that my inability to relinquish control of my critical mind for even a minute was hindering me.

I have always valued my pursuits of intellectual connection with the world around me. The development of my critical mind and consciousness has been an important journey for me in the everyday realm. Perhaps I cannot “free my mind.” My mind wanders during the time I should be journeying. I start out optimistically, imagining a safe space/neutral space and try to flesh it out in my imagination. But my brain never takes things over; things don’t just happen. For example, since I knew I would be looking for a power animal, I consciously tried to make sure I wasn’t thinking of animals. I wanted one to just pop up. When a cat wandered into the neutral space that I had established, all I could think in the back of my mind was, “You created this cat. It cannot bring you new knowledge.”

When I had a spirit animal retrieval done for me by another friend in the class, a deer was presented to me. Does this mean that there is a power animal waiting for me in the lower realm that I cannot reach? Could the animal have possibly known that it was my power animal, even if I had never set foot in its realm? These are discrepancies I have not yet pondered. Will the deer be waiting for me when I finally journey for the first time?

I have not given up on journeying, no matter how many times I failed in the past, no matter how many times I have felt myself falling asleep to the drumbeats. I believe all people have the capability to journey. It does not make sense that I should be the only one in a room who cannot alter my consciousness. Perhaps it will take more introspection and trust before I can feel myself slipping into a journey.

Thank you and Peace by Andrea

Shamanism first beckoned me with the opportunity to journey to the inside of myself. To journey to and see realms and entities of this reality that I cannot see--or rather, that I have difficulty seeing. I wanted to be able to visualize inside my body in a more structured and detailed way than I had been doing previously. I felt the urgent need to connect to my ancestors both of recent years and of millennia past. I wanted to have more insight into why the things in my life were progressing in the way in which they were, and what I could do to achieve (or at least try to achieve) the outcomes that I wanted. In short, I wanted to better understand the life in which I was living, where I was from, and who I was.

I think I held a lot of trepidation during my first few journeys. I had difficulty remaining present. Most importantly, and this continued to challenge me throughout the semester, I had difficulty believing that what I saw or experienced in the journey was “true” and not the machinations of my own domineering mind and desires. I had difficulty differentiating between what my guides said and what I thought myself, because my guides so often told me things I frequently thought inside my own head. In the end, I realized that my guides are, in fact, an extension and part of me, and I was correct in my suspicions that they spoke as I think. Soon after, I realized that this does not invalidate what they say and do. Journeying is still effective because my guides are more freely connected to this greater wisdom and spirit, and tell me things that I have difficulty seeing and/or accepting. My guides are aspects of myself and of the Divine in its entirety who are physically separated enough from me so that they can give me perspective on myself and on my life.

Over the course of the semester, with the persistent encouragement of Kathy, I have grown to think of these physically embodied aspects/guides as friends and helpers who are always around me when I need emotional or spiritual support. This has afforded me immense comfort at times when I have been under tremendous amounts of personal and academic-related stress, but even more so when I have been simply inextricably lonely. I know I can close my eyes, and in a productive and healthy way, have a relationship with these spiritual manifestations who teach, guide, and comfort me.

I have learned a lot from my guides, although I lament not having a teacher. When we tried journeying for a teacher, I ended up meeting an ancestor. It was a very beautiful, fulfilling experience for me, although I still wish I had a teacher right now who I could call upon. I know there must be many waiting for me somewhere, as I am in a period of intense, challenging transitions, learning, and re-learning. Frequently, I journeyed in class with the intention of following the assigned journey-focus but was then taken off track by my guides who always seemed to have different, highly urgent plans and teachings for me.

Although they frequently differed from the focus of class, Kathy always made the class open enough to allow my own experiences and explorations to take place. Having this safe space—both a physical and social one—enabled and further encouraged me to pursue this connection with myself and with the Divine. Walking into the room once a week—the lights low or off, incense burning, and the soft flicker of a candle light inviting the people around it to find calm and to find themselves part of a greater circle—was quite possibly the highlight of my entire semester at Oberlin. The spiritually-focused space and time shaped by the shamanism class anchored me physically, emotionally, and spiritually throughout the entire semester. Every single time I walked into the room, I breathed out the greatest sigh of relief.

Even now, despite no longer having that community of people and the incredible guidance and support of Kathy right next to me, I feel a great relief and power because I know I still can journey on my own. Moreover, I also learned the end of this class is by no means the end of shamanic journeying in community. Indeed, one week ago, one of my friends had me guide her in her first experience with shamanism and journeying. It was then that I realized how comfortable I am now with shamanism, how much I have learned, and how much I believe. I still have much to explore within the shamanic realms and to learn about shamanism itself. I know my substantially-enriched relationship with my ancestry and with myself will enable me to do this.

I am forever grateful for being exposed to this amazing, interesting, and for me, very new way of spiritual and self connection. I plan on calling upon it and the lessons it has given me whenever I need it. I now have one more tool to use to live my life as I want to live it. I now have two more friends, my guides, who are with me as I continue on my travels away from Oberlin into my unknown and at times incredibly daunting future. I now have the memory of finding a supportive, spiritual, and open community in a place where I did not expect it. Whether or not I have people around me, I know I am part of this greater community, this greater Divinity which I can explore with my eyes closed during journeying, and with my eyes enlivened and open wide as I pursue my personal truth in this experience we call “ life.”

Thank you and Peace.

Can your community help this family? by Jill Blake

Hello friends,

I am not sure if you are aware of the recent attack of a woman walking near the Carlisle Metro park. The 43 year old woman, mother of three children, was shot in the back, abducted, beaten and raped. She is in stable condition, but is now paralyzed from the waist down. The perpetrator was caught.

I passed the many sheriff cars that surrounded the area where she was found. I saw the men in their gear searching the woods. I was on my way to pick up my 4 year old from a play date, less than a mile away. Not 3 minutes away from the scene, there was my son running around a grassy hill in the sun. Free as a bird. Happy. It wasn't until the next day when I heard the story of what brought all those cars there that day that I was reminded of how fragile and precious life is. How it is the right of every person to have the love and care of his or her community. I felt somehow a part of her community, simply by driving past. In this way, I felt responsible. Not for her exactly, but rather for making up for what was done to her.

In looking for a way to be of help, I was able to make contact with a family member. The emotional care will come from close friends and family, but the family's economic situation will require a wider community of support. This includes the current needs of taking care of weekly routines so the family can be together and support their mother/wife to the longer term needs of making the home handicapped accessible. This also includes long term medical expenses beyond what most families could manage.

I am reaching out to family, friends and colleagues and to ask for support. I am specifically looking for people and businesses who are able to provide labor, lumber and other building materials for house redesign. You may email me at jboberlin@aol.com. The family member I am in contact with has set up an account at Fifth Third Bank for those who are able to provide financial support. You can deposit money in the name of Shawn Stevens at any Fifth Third Bank. If you'd like to donate via mail, please send your gift to:

Fifth third Bank

Attention: Shawn Stevens Account

281 Broad Street

Elyria, Ohio 44035

I invite you to share this information with others.

Read a recent newspaper article here.

Be well,

Jill Blake

jboberlin@aol.com

Stars in the Sea - Kathy completed the swim for diabetes

Thank you for all your support. I completed the Verizon Wireless Swim for Diabetes on April 6, 2008 to benefit the Diabetes Association of Greater Cleveland (DAGC). Check out my swimming blog for the final information (kathyswims.blogspot.com). Thank you!!

In the News

Mozambique; Traditional Healers Demand Legislation to Protect Their Activityfrom Africa News

Practitioners of traditional healing are demanding a legislation to protect their activity, particularly in case of any kind of incident or death of any of their patients. Aurelio Morais, chairperson of the Mozambican Association of Traditional Healers (AMETRAMO) defended this position on Friday, the African Day of Traditional Healers. He said that in case of a work accident, which he describes as normal, because it happens, even in the conventional medical care, the traditional healer may be killed by the patient's family.

This year, the African Traditional Healers' celebrations ran under the theme 'Research and Development of Traditional Healing,' and was marked by a placing of a wreath at the Mozambican Heroes Square. The Mozambican government started to rescue this practice and understand its importance after independence, in 1975, and has been working to value it ever since. [September 2, 2007]
~~~~~

Using the Earth's Power to Heal Communities

from The Irish Times

A new project aims to teach and practise traditional bush medicine in the remote outback in a bid to improve the health of Aborigines, writes Pauline Askin. As the camp fire burns slowly, a group of Aborigines build a "place of healing" in a remote outback camp where they will treat the ill using traditional bush medicines. The Healing Place is set in Gulkula, a stringy bark forest with views of the Gulf of Carpentaria, about 15km southeast of Nhulunbuy in Arnhem Cape in the Northern Territory. Bush healing is a part of the Yolngu aboriginal culture, remedies from the ancient Dreamtime stories have been handed down through the generations for more than 40,000 years.

Poor health is a serious issue for Aborigines in this remote outback community. They have limited access to modern medical services and the Yolngu women are determined to continue to teach and practise their traditional bush medicine. Australia's 460,000 Aborigines make up 2 per cent of the 20 million population and have a life expectancy 17 years less than white Australians. They have far higher rates of heart disease, diabetes, alcohol and drug abuse and domestic violence. [September 11, 2007 ]

~~~~~
South Africa Ponders How to Insure the Old Way

from The Globe and Mail (Canada)

Setshwano Rametse has a problem, a painful and difficult problem, and for years she tackled it in just the way you might expect a sophisticated, well-educated professional would. She battled infertility, consulting a range of medical experts and pursuing a variety of invasive and expensive clinical procedures. But none produced the child she longed for. And so a couple of years ago, Ms. Rametse, 35, did something that she admitted seemed a little bizarre for a highly educated marketing executive with a six-figure income. She went to see a traditional healer, an older woman who entered a trance-like state and summoned Ms. Rametse's ancestors, and those of her husband, to try to cure their childlessness.

From the healer, Ms. Rametse received a diagnosis dramatically different from any she had gotten in the sophisticated medical centres of Johannesburg. The healer told her that the problem lay with her husband's family. Raised by a single mother, he did not know his ancestors on his father's side, was not in touch with them or respecting them. The very basic step of informing them of his birth and marriage had not been taken. And until this was rectified, "this gift of a child would not be given to us," Ms. Rametse said.

She and her husband, married years ago in a Christian church, will soon recelebrate their marriage in a traditional ceremony in which all of his ancestors will be evoked. "You communicate to your ancestors and they pass the message on to God. They are the nearest thing to God and we have lived with them," she explained. "It's from the traditions of our culture."

Ms. Rametse's view is not unusual: 80 per cent of South Africans--which means nearly the entire black population, including the rapidly expanding middle class--turn to traditional healers, either in place of, or before, the conventional, Western health system, to address their problems. [March 25, 2008]

~~~~~

All over GTA, Schools Find Earth Hour a Good Fit

from The Toronto Star

In a dimly lit gymnasium at Sunny View Junior and Senior Public School, Earth Hour came two days early as hundreds of students marked the hour by dancing, singing and throwing around an oversized "earth ball." Education Minister Kathleen Wynne joined in the festivities, even banging on a drum during the drumming circle, as she commended the school, one of 500 across the province, for participating in Earth Hour.

"I think Earth Hour is a great symbolic opportunity for us to think about what we are doing to the planet and how we can do better," said Wynne, speaking to special-needs students.
"Thank you for taking part in making the environment better," she told the staff and children, who have already taken steps to become an "eco-school." [March 28, 2008]

A Web Tip: RSS Feed instructions

I've been using a a wonderful RSS feed service for the blogs I read. Here's the site: http://www.rssfwd.com/

To add Whispers of the Stones, or any blog, all you have to do is enter the feed URL e.g.: http://oberlinshamanism.blogspot.com/

It's easy, and then the blog entries come right to your e-mail account.

Shamanism Circle: A Summer Exploration for Teens

Tapping into this deep level of consciousness allows one to experience the innate connectedness of all things. Shamanism therefore involves a deep respect for the natural world. In addition to shamanic journeying, we will explore art, ritual, and mindfulness meditations as gateways in understanding the profound connection of Self, Nature, and Spirit.

Mon Evenings 7:30-9:30, June 16, 23, 30, July 7, 14, & 21

@ Solaluna Yoga Studio (40 ½ S. Main St)

fee $25.00 (to cover rent of Solaluna)

Wear loose, comfortable clothing. Bring a drum, rattle, or other rhythm instrument,

a journal, and a bandana or other eye cover.

Bring an open mind!

My hope is that this summer circle will produce the summer newsletter

as a cumulative project of their new learnings.
Please contact me prior to the first meeting for a parental/guardian consent form.

Home phone: 440/774-1096
kathleen.abromeit@oberlin.edu

A Bow of Thanks!

Whispers of the Stones
is a publication of the Oberlin College Shamanism Exco.

Editor: Kathy Abromeit ~~ Assistant Editor: John Sabin

Photos taken by Kathy Abromeit. All contents are copyright (c) of the authors. No part of this newsletter or its contents can be duplicated without permission.

Big thanks to the spring semester exco participants - photo below (Joseph Blasher, Maureen Farrell, Gary Cohen, Jessica Dunn, Anya Kazimierski, Mirella Brussani, Laura Einsel, Jeremy Johnston,Andrea), Lexis Nexis Academic, and gratefulness.org

full moon reflected in a curly willow
stories of life blending with frankincense and myrrh
spring comes and the grass grows

kaa 5.19.08

Welcome!

Dear Readers,

Thank you once again for joining us in the sharing of Whispers of the Stones. Most of the articles in this issue are from our work during the fall semester. This semester however, we just finished up a night of journeying to the ancestors, which always makes me mindful of the interconnection of time and generations. We're so much closer and connected than we often realize. With all the campaigning for the upcoming presidential race, there is considerable emphasis on difference rather than likeness. One teaching story that serves to remind me of how connected we all are is a story from the Edo period in Japan (1600-1868).

Behind a temple there was field where many squashes grew on a vine. One day a fight broke out among them, and the squashes split into two groups, making a big racket and shouting at each other.

The head priest heard all the commotion and asked in a booming voice, "Hey, you squashes! What are you fighting about?" The priest taught the squashes to do meditation. Eventually, the anger subsided, and they settled down.

Then the priest said quietly, "Everyone put your hand on top of your head." When the squashes felt top of their heads, they found something weird attached there. It turned out to be a vine that connected them all together. After that the squashes got along much better. *

I hope you enjoy this issue and that early spring gives you many opportunities to enjoy the squish of mud between your toes, and while you are out there playing in the dirt from our mother earth, you might consider planting some squashes!

peace,

kathy

In this issue:

Reflections on the Shamanism Exco by Derek Dube

Monday Nights by Lauren Clark

Rainbow Water by Alyssa Zullinger

A Process Journey by Jeff Zahratka

Stars in the Sea: Kathy's Swim for Diabetes
I am a fraction by Briana Carroll

Dragon Hand by Briana Carroll

The Service Secret by Brent Newman

Spirit Guide by Jenny Gaeng

Ancestor by Jenny Gaeng

Bodhisattva Vows and Shamanism by Kathy Abromeit

Understandable Language by a Curious Seeker

Nonce Sonnet by Brent Newman

Meeting the Ancestors with the use of Objects or Clothing by Kathy Abromeit

Top Picks for Spring

Thank you

*Adapted from Opening the Hand of Thought by Kosho Uchiyama. Wisdom Publications, 2004.

All contents are copyright (c) of the authors. No part of this newsletter or its contents can be duplicated without permission

Reflections on the Shamanism Exco by Derek Dube

This semester’s exploration of Shamanism has been an amazing experience. I find it difficult to describe how much of an impact my experiences with shamanism, even over as brief a time period, have had on how I look at and deal with the world. There is an indescribable feeling that I get when I think about the different journeys that I have gone on and the things that I have learned. Difficult in writing and nearly impossible in speaking with other people. What I have learned recently, though, is that it is talking with other people about what I have learned that is one of the most important things for me. And yet the shamanism that I have been exposed to is also focused on self-examination, mostly. There is a dichotomy there, to be sure, but both parts are not mutually exclusive. They are as whole as the yin and yang or light and dark. However, before I elaborate on how I have come to speak of my experiences, I must first tell some about them. And to effectively communicate how much the practices have been able to fit so snugly into my life, I must also talk about spirituality, and what that word means to me.

My spiritual life has been one of exploration and development. I think that it may have been more like that for me than most others, but I am coming to realize that spirituality is not really cut and dry for anybody. I assumed that since I was brought up out of any organized practices, that my development was more so than other people’s, but I have since learned that that is not true. Spirituality, or systems of belief, or religion, or practices – whatever a person chooses to call them, they come about only through intense learning and exploration, and while it may be true that for people brought up religious there may be less exploration in general, it is still going to be present. It has to be, because every person’s spirituality (as I will refer to it in the rest of my discussion) is unique. It is formed out of experiences and events. It is molded by interactions between people and by the things that we find beautiful and precious. Our spirituality depends on what we find important, on what makes us feel powerless, on what makes us angry. Spirituality is something that is made up of our entire lives. It is a constant aura that we wear as we walk the earth, always ready to shift or grow.

As I said, I was not brought up with any organized practices in my life. However, that lack of structure had come about through my parents’ personal lives of spirituality. Their explorations had led them to that path, though they were both brought up in structured households. I love my family, and have deep respect for both of my parents’ decisions regarding their spiritualities. Their explorations were probably difficult, but they knew that they were also important, and so they took it on themselves, in an environment where it wasn’t encouraged per se, to seek out spirituality for themselves, from the ground up. As a result of their own individual journeys, the bookshelves in my house had some books interspersed that became important to me later on. There were bibles sandwiched in there, but there were also books about the lost gospels, books of mythology, books of religious criticism, of historical religion, books by Jesus scholars like Dom Crossan. When I was in high school, I began to notice them resting there. My father in particular was becoming extremely interested in the historical Jesus. This was around the time that there was a lot of news about possibilities of new gospels being uncovered, and so there were several documentaries on television looking at Christianity from the historical perspective. And then there were my older siblings. They had several years on me, and their spiritual explorations were well under way. On their bookshelves rested sourcebooks of Chinese philosophies, textbooks on Buddhism, the Tao Te Ching, the I Ching, books and movies on meditation and Tai Chi.

And it was through my older brother that I first began to get in touch with my spirituality. I looked up to him greatly, and he was going through a time of inner examination. He was spending most of his free time reading different philosophies and learning about Eastern practices. He tried to seek out source materials like the original writings, but also valued modern adaptations and interpretations. I was already at a point where I was hungry for input, and my readings had become more ambitious. Several different books, movies, and documentaries had lifted a veil from the world, and I felt free to mix and match, and so I went looking at thick criticism and philosophical writing. I found the Tao. Its words spoke to me in a strong way, and so I went to speak with him about his personal experiences. He was studying Tai Chi in a class at the time, and I began to learn it from him. This was the first time where I had incorporated both body and mind in singular, fluid spirituality. It was incredibly important.

Soon after, I began to explore my father’s books of biblical criticism and deconstruction. I also looked more in depth at my mother’s books of mythology and my sister’s books of Chinese ideas. They all helped my aura to start maturing.

By the time I had gotten to college, I had pursued all of these lines of thought beyond those initial books. I had gleaned as much as I was able to from them and composed a unique view of spirituality. I had also become interested in different modern philosophies, but had been unable to understand most of the writings. Spirituality to me had a definite foundation in interconnectedness and understanding. Above that were ideas about nature and feelings, and also about sensitivity and open-mindedness. It was inextricably linked to active pursuit of knowledge, but also dependant on relaxation and calm. My spirituality was nothing rooted, though. That foundation and the things built upon it were solid but floated in a void. I was very connected to my spirituality and knew that, though I was not religious, I was a very faith-based person. I could not find effective ways to manifest it, though, and it seemed like a lot of hopeless speculation. I enjoyed having something within me that I could fall back on, and having that foundation was helpful when adjusting to a new location, but I still felt that I had not fully made a connection with my spirituality. We did not have a good dialogue going on, and it made me wonder at my abilities to feel and to relate. The most important thing at that point was knowing how to connect to a center inside me where I realized all of the beauty and wonder around me, as hokey as that may sound. My spirituality meant that at any time when I felt stressed, I could go for a walk and look around. I could take a few deep breaths as I walked and open my eyes more deeply until I felt a warmth and a happiness all throughout my body.

I was curious when I heard about the Shamanism exco, since I was still very much in the phase of wide exploration. However I was nervous. I knew that I had still not really made that connection to my spirituality on an equal footing. I decided that I would try it, if for no other reason than to learn about cultural differences.

In the class, we journey to a constant drumbeat. We close our eyes and block out outside light, since “it is easier to se in the dark,” as our instructor put it. In the breadth of the semester, the class developed nicely, starting small with simple goals in journeys and working towards more complicated questions and then dealing with physical objects.

I was hesitant and full of self-doubt at first. I still am to a certain degree. I was nervous that I would not be able to do things properly and I had self-doubt in what I experienced. Through subsequent journeys and discussions, though, I have since learned a lot about how to feel that aura and how to tap into it. I have learned that in journeys we have to let our intuition float and guide us, to not question things, and to rely on pillars, like our power place or power animal. A large part of dealing with people’s questions about journeys was the acceptance of the materialist, grounded mind. It is a part of us, of course, and it is not excluded, we just simply take note of it when it manifests and move past it as we journey.

For me, these journeys were an incredible surprise. I was able to connect with different forces and feelings in a short amount of time. It was an amazing time for me, because getting to tap into these forces and energies was helping to give me answers to old questions and insights into new ones. A lot of what journeys mean to me, now that I have had time to experiment with different types of journeys, is self-awareness. It is waking up our mind, which is fixed in the world that we can perceive physically, to the innate senses within the body. The body, after all, knows a lot about itself. It is an amazing unit of function, and when we journeyed to the body to look for imbalances and possible treatments, it was about finding a way to interpret the signs. This was a huge epiphany for me. I realized how much I had been ignoring the intelligence and the possibilities contained in our bodies.

More difficult was the waking up of the mind to the avenues of the spirit. This was what had to be learned first, though. In our very first journey we searched for our power place, the place where we feel safe and comfortable and from where we could interact with and travel between the different worlds. This journey for me has become an incredibly important part of who I am. I searched through different places and images from my past and from my imagination, simply letting myself flow with whatever currents of energy that there were to take me. I encountered a strong entity who first passed by me, and then returned, extending a hand to help me to find myself in this new world behind my closed eyes. With the help of this entity, who returned in several more journeys, I became acclimated to the feelings and ideas of journeying, and with the advice and goading that I received in that first journey, I was able to find my power place. Even now when I journey I sometimes go to just rest in my power place with my power animal, talking about different things.

My power animal is an animal spirit that is linked to me. I was able to meet him through one of our journeys, where two students retrieved power animals for each other. My power animal is a great companion to me, and a wonderful friend. I was able to see a lot of things about companionship and what it means to be there for someone as I was developing my relationship with him. The most beautiful experiences that I have had during the semester have been involving the different spirits and entities through journeys. To be able to find companions from whom I can learn so much has made me look at interactions in a whole new way, both bad and good.

I have had many insightful experiences in the course of the semester. From journeying for a story to rock reading, I have been surprised again and again as my nervousness about ability and correctness are dispelled by interesting encounters and thought-provoking discussions. However, as I said before, it is difficult to tell people about how much these experiences have influenced me, and why. Through questions and talks within journeys and messages in dreams I have been able to reevaluate how I plan my college career and how I deal with studies. It had also helped me to be able to reach out to people and to be able to be a constant source of comfort for them. One of the best things that I have learned is just that: being constant. It is just difficult to talk about how I have gotten so much out of such a strange practice, and some people find it almost too strange of a way to get knowledge.

And so the reason why I think that it is so important to talk about my experiences and my learning with people is to broaden their horizons a little bit and open their eyes to the possibilities of spiritual exploration. I do not focus on telling them all of the details of my journeys. I do not even think that it is important to elaborate very much at all about the practices, especially if they think them strange. However, what is important is that I stress why shamanism is so important to me: because it gave me a way to finally find my spirituality and converse with it. To get that dialogue on an equal footing and to connect. I now feel that my spirituality is rooted in something and that it is something that I can rely on for more and more things, and my reasoning for finally speaking about this experience is not to try to talk to people about what has worked for me in the hopes that they will do it, too. It is, instead, a celebration of unique personal examination and awareness.

-------------

First and third photographs by Aidan Plank.

Rainbow Water by Alyssa Zullinger

There was a girl who ran away from a violent person. She traveled very far, solitary and beautiful and serious, looking for… something. One day, passing at the foot of a mountain, after a brief rain, she saw a rainbow, and thought it was beautiful. All morning it distracted her, held her captivated, so that she barely looked where she was going.

Now, the girl had been traveling a long while, and did not have much to eat. So when she came upon an old lady hermit, she stopped to talk. The woman generously offered her food. The girl accepted the food, and eating, told the old woman somewhat of her travels. She asked, after, what she could possibly give or do in payment for the meal. The woman said, think nothing of it.
But, said the woman. There is a certain treasure I have been wanting for a very long time. It is not very difficult to find or retrieve – indeed, I can tell you exactly how to find it. But I cannot retrieve it myself. I am getting on in age, you know, and not as strong as I once was.

The girl agreed to do this favor for the woman, and listened to the directions. She handed her a tin can and told her, dip this can in the water there, and fill it. Then return to me. The girl nodded, accepting the tin can, an old ribbed thing that once held pale beans or peaches. Before the girl left, the woman gave her a single warning: If you cannot bear the thirst, do not drink of the water.

So the girl began on the trail the woman had explained to her, between the conifers and up the mountain in the warm noon light. Walking, the girl gazed at the rainbow, which still shimmered brightly in the sky. The girl thought idly, as she walked, that she would like to reach up and touch the rainbow, feel its reds and yellows. She mimed at it with her fist, then kept on climbing…

She reached the place at the peak of afternoon – she knew it first by the big reddish boulder, and then passing that, by the tiny stream flowing past it. And she stared awestruck at the stream, for here where the woman had told her to go, the rainbow arced into the stream, its colors dancing in the water.

The girl knelt down and carefully dipped the tin can into the place where the rainbow met the stream, and filled it to the brim. She stood slowly, trying to spill as little as possible. Stepping back, she gazed into the tin of water, where the colors still danced. Then she reached her hand out to touch the rainbow one last time – but stopped, pulling back, made wary by the woman’s warning. So she turned around and walked, balancing the can of rainbow water and, once, looking back wistfully.

Walking now, her return trip passed much more slowly, as she took delicate care not to spill the precious water. She walked for hours, until she became weary, and very thirsty also. She stopped many times, sitting; and, stopped, she looked up at the lingering rainbow, and then at the rainbow water, wishing she dared drink it to quench her thirst.

Before she had arrived back at the old woman’s hut, the sun set. It was dark, and she could no longer see where to go – and, a separate sadness, the rainbow had been swallowed by the darkness. After a few slow walking minutes of indecision, she dug a hole in the ground to set the rainbow water in, and curled up bare on the dirt, where she fell asleep.

At very first light, she woke damp, her throat burning with thirst. She opened her eyes, and looked straight up to the sky – but the rainbow was gone. A tear slid over her cheek, for a sense of loss she could not reason. She turned then to the tin of water, and lifted it from the dirt. For a moment she paused, remembering that the woman had warned her – but her thirst was too great. Caught in the simplicity of morning, she threw her head back and swallowed the water, tasting colors.

For a moment, she stood in peace, feeling the rim of the empty tin can on her lip.
Then she opened her eyes, and her thirst was multiplied a thousand times over – for everywhere she looked, she saw beauty – in the sky, in the clouds, in the rough trees, their pointing branches, in the deep dirt and old leaves, in the wispy little insects on the air, in the chirp of the birds – everything –

She returned to the woman with an empty tin can in her fingers. I’m sorry, she said, still dazed, still dazzled, and looking all about herself. I was so thirsty, and now the rainbow has vanished.
The woman said, "You drank it? "
"Yes," said the girl.
"You must be thirsty, then."
She nodded. The woman beckoned her inside and sat her down at a small wooden table, then began bustling around.

Disoriented (and examining the beauty of the table, and the walls, and the vase of dried flowers on the table - ) the girl asked, Aren’t you disappointed I didn’t bring you back the water?
Not at all, child. The woman smiled, and handed her a sheaf of paper, and a piece of charcoal.

Monday Nights by Lauren Clark

I.

Walking home one night, Allie says

her favorite words are, “Let’s go home.”

Far away, I think of the way

my journeys start there. I survey

my backyard, turning each old stone.

Far, far away, Allie’s voice sways,

her arm around me, let’s go home.


II.

I am home. I see it clearly.

My memory is expanding.

I walk the perimeter, me,

barefoot, I pat the grass, I see

my long summer legs walking.

I am home. I feel it, really.

My memory is cavorting.

A Process Journey by Jeff Zahratka

Throughout my journey of taking the Shamanism Exco, I've learned a great deal about my own spirituality and my role in the universe as a whole. Much to my surprise, what I actually ended up learning was much more than I had originally imagined when I signed up for the course. I've always been interested in many different types of occult and metaphysical things. (I've been able to read tarot cards and do energy work since the age of thirteen, and I am a practicing astrologer.) So I figured that learning about shamanism and similar types of work could further extend my horizons on a metaphysical level. Fortunately for me, the class did all of that, and more.

When I first entered the class, I was pretty sure that I had a very firm understanding of the world around me, as well as the “world beyond the world.” I had been established within organized religion for many years since I was really young, and as a double major in the hard sciences, I was pretty sure that I had a good basis of understanding both the physical and spiritual aspects of life. However, for some reason at the beginning of the year, I felt somewhat misguided in my spiritual affairs. Despite having a firm basis in my religion and worldview, I still felt there was something missing. After actually being in the class, there were many things I learned from the various journeys that I performed, such as meeting my spirit guide, power animal, and teacher; the children's story; the dream ritual; the journeys about relationships; and my personal work over fall break.

An important idea used in shamanism is the idea of the power animal. These totem animals are helpful to the shaman much as the spiritual guide is, but may not be nearly as permanent as the spiritual guide. During one of the classes, we paired off into groups of two and went to the lower world to retrieve a power animal for the other person. I was paired with my friend Alyssa, and she retrieved a turtle as my power animal. When I first met my power animal, I felt like he didn't really like me too much, because he was very cold and distant. Eventually I learned that this was just his personality, and that in reality he had no problem with me. While not playing as significant of a role in my journeying experiences as my spirit guide, my power animal has still been very helpful throughout my experiences in this class. Toward the end of the class, I realized the reason I had received the turtle-–it was a symbol indicating that I should go out and meet new people and do new things. As I started doing this more and more in the past few months, the role of my power animal diminished in my journeys, until he disappeared altogether.
A week later, our class journeyed to the upper world to find teachers. Traveling to the upper world was an awesome experience, as it was like traveling through the stars and transcending the barrier between this universe and those beyond. When I finally reached the upper world, which appeared to me as a realm full of clouds, stars, and bright light, I found a magnificent cathedral sitting on the top of one of the cloud beds. I entered the cathedral with my spirit guide and power animal, and inside was a huge area with a ritual altar, sitting areas, and amazing stained glass windows. Standing at the altar, but not in a part of any ritual, was a man with a gray beard and intense grayish-blue eyes. I approached him instinctively, knowing that he was my teacher, and started conversing with him. He told me to do a few things: to find out more about him, to be more decisive in my actions, and to find the balance between selfishness and selflessness. The latter two made sense to me, as I'm rather indecisive most of the time and I tend to put others in front of myself in nearly every situation, and both of those probably need to change. The finding-more-about-him part was really intriguing to me, as it did not make any sense at first. I had just met my teacher, had no idea who he was, and he wanted me to learn more about him? How was I supposed to do that? The answer to this question came much later, until after I had nearly finished the class. What I eventually ended up realizing is that the teacher in the church represented something very great-–my spirituality. Instead of finding more about the person as a (meta-)physical entity, I had to discover more about myself and how I felt about the spiritual realm and everything inside of it.

After finding my guide, power animal, and teacher, the class switched to doing actual work in the shamanistic spiritual realm. One of our first “assignments” was to journey to find a story for all ages. At first I was unsure how I would get a story that was something original, because it seems like it would be a rather difficult thing to do. What ended up happening was that I received a story for all ages, with a “moral” that has proven useful time and time again this year. While my story is somewhat long, I will talk about the main points.

The story begins with a group of wolves reaching a clearing in a forest in late autumn. The leader of the pack looked around at the area, and told the rest that there was enough food and water to last for a very long time, so they decided to settle down there. Eventually, winter came in, and the wolves realized that there was not enough food to last the winter. One of the pack members brought up the idea of leaving the area to find a new shelter that would have sufficient provisions and living space to last the winter, but the leader of the pack was obstinate, believing that they would be able to find sufficient food and that the weather would warm up soon. As time passed, the weather got even colder, and the food supply dwindled farther. At this point, more of the pack members voiced the opinion to leave. Confused and worried about the state of his pack, the leader went for a walk around the forest. He came across an owl, who gave him some very good advice. The owl told the wolf that even though what happened in the past was good and he may not want to get rid of it, the past has already happened and it's not coming back, and the best thing to do is move on. Realizing what he had to do now, the leader of the pack went back to the rest of his pack, and left the clearing in search of another place to go. Fighting cold and hunger, the wolves eventually found a new clearing that was even bigger than the first, with more food and a more hospitable temperature, and they lived there happily.

The moral of the story as I figured it was this: even though it can be hard sometimes, embracing change and letting go of what you know can be beneficial to a person's spiritual growth, and they may find the new situation to be even better than what they knew and held on to before. This idea is something I now use in my everyday life, and is something I return to constantly.

When fall break came around, I did personal journeys of my own on the behalf of my friend. She was going through some rough emotions at the time, with a strange metaphysical twist to them. Throughout fall break, when I journeyed, I tried to re-create what she had been telling me when she had visions and nightmares. While I did not see the exact same things has her, I had a really good idea of what she was going through and then proceeded to try to help her with it. It was through these experiences, and my experiences later in the class with body work and extraction healing, that I learned the power of spiritual healing. I learned that the soul and spirit have the ability to override what happens in the physical realm, just through faith and force of will.

Overall, I feel that the Shamanism Exco was a very rewarding experience. What I learned in this class is quite valuable in my everyday life, as I come back to many of the things I've learned on a daily basis and reflect on how this learning affects my life. In addition, I strengthened my spiritual basis in the process, and have realized a new sense of how the universe works, and how I work, live, and belong in it.

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Photographs by Aidan Plank.

stars in the sea: kathy's swim for diabetes

Once again I'm doing the Verizon Wireless Swim for Diabetes on April 6, 2008 to benefit the Diabetes Association of Greater Cleveland (DAGC). Check out my blog to make a donation and cheer me on!

I am a fraction by Briana Carroll

I am a fraction, the way I can only say it and mean it once in a while. During those times when I can sum myself up talking about other people but not making gods of them; the times when I feel I can measure up to Gandhi and Shankar, Siddhartha, Ginsberg, and all my other heroes. When I can include Jesus on the list no matter how much I resent my parents and what religion my grammar school tried to shove down my throat, because I really feel what he had to say. When I can face up to the fact that all those heroes are male, because it doesn’t make them any worse and it isn’t their fault that society screwed women over. When I can forgive them being male, because I’m a woman and I can place myself up with them.

I can place myself on a pedestal.

I can sum up who I am without becoming someone else within that description. I don’t need to steal work from Gandhi, Shankar, Siddhartha, Ginsberg, but instead imagine that if I sat down with them we could understand each other, even though we don’t use the same slang or even language.

I can ignore gravity and my standard disillusionment and feel like I’m part of something, I am a fraction of the world so it can’t all be bad. I can read a stranger’s journal and want to tell him, we’ve had the same revelation and I think we can make it happen.

I don’t need to join a war protest to feel like I’m worthy of genius. I don’t even need to join a war. I can communicate with people that I haven’t met, because somehow over decades, centuries, and hemispheres, we’ve reached an understanding that whatever murders are on the evening news, aren’t reason enough to give up on the world.

Because I am a fraction of the world, like Gandhi and Shankar, Siddhartha, Ginsberg. And I haven’t forsaken myself.

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Briana Carroll is a first-year who hails from Chicago.

Dragon Hand by Briana Carroll

[double click on the image for a larger version]

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Briana Carroll is a first-year who hails from Chicago.

The Service Secret by Brent Newman

In a shrine located on a mountain
There is a man who can turn crowds to rivers.

Drinking with him is dangerous,
for he puts secrets in his tea,
yours too,
and you don’t always Drink Secrets,
sometimes they Swallow You.

He never says a word,
breathing in blessings,
moving in meditations;
answering my questions
while silently sitting.

I wonder sometimes
of this man in my head,
or is it my heart?
Is he me, or pure fantasy?

-----------------

Brent is a sohpomore from Falls Church, VA. Photograph by Aidan Plank.

Spirit Guide by Jenny Gaeng

All the things I cannot be
are rolled into one man
a poet, a painter
who knows philosophy and politics
(everything good that begins with p),
and he can tap dance.

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Jenny is a first-year from Lutherville, Maryland.

Ancestor by Jenny Gaeng

mary magda mcrae,
thank you for crossing the ocean at eleven
you must have been full of dreams
sorry america was not like you hoped.
did you think about the old country,
and was it as green as they say?

you gave your children the name quattrocchi,
and they grew up with the southside in their speech
they spiced their food with cilantro and rosemary
but they kept your blue eyes and dreams.

your grandchildren almost made it,
stanford, harvard, yale,
but like you they had a weakness for family
and stayed at home far too much.

can you forgive their blue-eyed daughter,
filtered through generations of sex,
drugs, and rock and roll,
who can't cross the ocean but is trying,
and who wants so badly to connect?

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Jenny is a first-year from Lutherville, Maryland

Bodhisattva Vows and Shamanism by Kathy Abromeit

For several years I have had a deep interest in Eastern thought and meditation. This year, however, I took the Bodhisattva vows and became a Buddhist, having a jukai(receiving precepts) ceremony. Several people have asked me, “why now?” Meditation for me is far from relaxing and beautiful. Of course there are moments where the self drops away, but more times than not, my experience on the cushion is a parade of images from past incidents, mindless chatter of conversations never had, anxiety of the time spent with “what ifs …” and a future that I have not yet lived. Interestingly, all this “stuff” has little to do with the moment on the cushion, but nonetheless it is the material of my life. Each time these things arise, I try my best to redirect and focus on the posture of my body, eyes open, facing a blank wall. The paradox of all this is that the teaching in Soto Zen is that we do this for no gain. I’m not trying to reach enlightenment. I know that for the most part meditation is not peaceful, with my visual screen presenting garbage akin to a low-budget, R-rated, self-indulgent horror flick with a non-linear plot! I don’t expect that I’m going to become the next Mother Teresa. No one ever promised that I’ll become powerful, influential, sexy, or generally more likeable.

So, what drives us to the wall where we just sit and hold the posture? As I’ve come to know more meditators and asked them what drove them to the wall, it seems to be a deep unmet longing that creates the urgency. I’ve heard stories of depression, poor health, a life with no meaning, etc. The story I've found most striking is of a woman who discovered her husband was having an affair. She finds herself pointing a loaded gun at him, and suddenly realizes that something is very wrong with her life. Soon after, she has learned to examine her life by facing a blank wall in meditation posture.

For me, I was driven to the wall by the suicide of a dear friend and student. Everyone who comes in contact with suicide spends endless hours wondering "why?" and "what could I have done differently to support that person?" to prevent their violent death. In spring 2002, Leslie, one of my students who was a dear friend of our family, student assistant at my job, producer of my drumming CD, and babysitter of our children, hanged herself. She and I had had an argument just hours before her death. Three days later her body was found hanging in the basement of her house. I felt completely obliterated (major soul loss) with her suicide and have spent a great deal of time wondering why Leslie felt death was an answer to her problems that seemed so circumstantial to her youth. Of course, I've spent more hours wishing we hadn't argued, wishing that my final words had been encouraging, wishing I could get the image of her walking away from me out of my head. I wonder if she felt any relief in her death?

Suicide is not logical though, and we push and push and push to come up with a reason: they lost their love to illness, they didn’t want to go through yet another surgery, they lost their job and went bankrupt, they’ve struggled with depression and mental illness for years, they totaled their car, their partner wasn’t faithful, they don’t like Fridays, they had experienced tremendous sexism and felt invalidated in their profession, the light bulb went out on their desk lamp. Etc. I have spent endless hours looking for a cause and effect. An infinite number of misfortunes come our way every day, but why do some people take their life and others don’t? Perhaps it’s about paying attention to all the ways our world supports us rather than the ways in which we don’t feel supported. I just don’t know.

With these questions, I never get answers, only silence. It is that silence that has driven me to the wall of sitting. I think sometimes that your life has to feel worse than staring at a blank wall or we wouldn’t turn to sitting. Through my awareness on the cushion I began asking myself what I needed to love myself again and feel worthy of functioning in our world. At this point, I was beyond the questions of “why” regarding Leslie and on to the question of “what” regarding me.

Taking Bodhisattva vows involved a lengthy study of the Buddhist ethical precepts. The vows themselves are discussed in an article by Shohaku Okumura, the teacher with whom I took the vows. Below is an outline of the precepts.

The Three Refuges
We then take refuge in the Three Treasures: Buddha, Dharma and Sangha. The Buddha is the one who awakened to reality. The Dharma is reality itself, the way things truly are. The Sangha are the people who aspire to study and living according to the teaching of the reality of all beings.
The Threefold Pure Precepts
Next, we receive the threefold pure precepts: (1) the precept of embracing moral codes, (2) the precept of embracing good deeds, (3) the precept of embracing all living beings. These three points are the direction we walk on the Bodhisattva path.

The Ten Major Precepts
The ten major precepts are: (1) do not kill, (2) do not steal, (3) do not engage in improper sexual conduct, (4) do not lie, (5) do not deal in intoxicants, (6) do not criticize others, (7) do not praise self and slander others, (8)do not be stingy with the dharma or property, (9) do not give way to anger, (10) do not disparage the Three Treasures.

In preparation for the Bodhisattva vows, the participants each sewed a rakusu. Our sewing instructor was Lynne Brakeman, who was trained by Zenkei Blanche Hartman, former abbess of the San Francisco Zen Center. The rakusu is made of sixteen pieces of cloth in the formation of rice fields. It is the same formation used in the Buddha’s robe. Traditionally, the robe was made of scraps of discarded fabric, such as old clothes, menses rags, and cloth used to wrap the body for cremation. The rakusus that we made are of dark blue cotton. Each stitch is a meditation, reciting "Namu Kie Butsu" ("I take refuge in Buddha) with each pull of the thread, and the process is long and challenging with hundreds of tiny stitches needed to complete the lay robe. The back of the rakusu is white, and the teacher inscribes your new dharma name, the lineage, and the name of their temple. In addition, the teacher prepares a lineage paper tracing the bloodline from the student back to Buddha.

One part of the ceremony that I found especially beautiful was an invitation for all the Buddhas in all directions to join the ritual. I invited all my beloveds who are family, friends, shamanism circles, swimming friends, trees in my backyard, four-leggeds, etc. to join me in the taking of these vows. It was a fabulous moment of connection.

So, this beautiful practice of just sitting that allows me to go neither forward or back has sustained me and permitted me to see the magnificent interdependence of all. It’s not a quest of intellect but rather a journey of personal experience. The reason I tell you this story is that it intersects deeply with my shamanic practice. Where in shamanism are the ethics for behavior? Some say that there are no ethics in shamanism, that it is simply whatever each individual practitioner brings to their life. I look forward to cultivating the intersection of these two practices and exploring more deeply the places where the Bodhisattva vows intersect with the ethical decisions I make in my daily life as a shamanic practitioner. I hope to have more to say about this in the future, and I invite you, readers, to submit your thoughts about ethics and our practice of shamanism.

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Photos by Aidan Plank.

Understandable Language by a Curious Seeker

Tonight my hawk and I flew up past the celestial world and up through a thin membrane of clouds. But instead of being in the Upper World, I was back in my body on earth. Confused, I did it again. But once I pulled through the clouds, I was in my body on earth, again. I could see nothing in my shamanic mind. It was like I was reset.


Doing it one last time, I pulled through the membrane and looked around. The floor was a thin blanket of cloud, and the entire world around me was an endlessness of white. Not a pure, bright white, but a white that faded into the distance, into an off-white; a light grey of shadows. I was confused. Where were my spirit guides? On my stomach, I peeked down through the floor of clouds, to see the celestial world, and no other world in between. Where was I, if not the upper world?


Suddenly, I was rolled over onto my back by some force, and the endlessness of white towards the sky shouted at me, in a loud, booming voice, "What are you doing here?""What do you mean, 'what am I doing here?'" I said. "I am looking for my spirit guide.""You're not supposed to be here. Who are you?" The voice shouted back at me."What do you mean, 'who am I?' I am who I am. Who are you?""Oh... it's you. That's why you're here. I am Olodumare (the creator).""Oh... are you my spirit guide?" I asked. I kind of knew the answer to come.

"Yeah, sure I am." He seemed to chuckle. And in that moment, I was pushed through the a tear in the cloud floor, and I was back into the celestial space. Confused, I asked my power animal, my hawk, to bring me to the right place. The real upper world. We soared sideways and slightly up, at a diagonal, until I finally reached the upper world through a pool of water in a cave... But who knows where I had been before.

I've done a lot of reading about African traditions, and Olodumare, the creator in the Yoruba tradition, has no interest in human affairs. Instead, he hands that task onto other lesser gods called Orisha. Though the experience I had in the whiteness may sound frightening or hostile, whoever I was speaking to had a very playful air, and it seemed that my presence was more a nuisance than anything else.

And while I do not claim to have spoken to Olodumare himself, or that my experience somehow validates the Yoruba tradition, I do believe that the spirit world will speak to us in a language we can understand. Calling himself Olodumare made the situation make much more sense to me personally. I do know however that whomever I met in this other world seemed to be a greater god who had no interest in petty human trifles, such as they are. But he did seem to be amused by the situation, though he was not one for pleasantries, and disposed of me rather quickly.



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Photograph by Aidan Plank.

Nonce Sonnet by Brent Newman

Late November rain falls slower in O-
(not Virginia) – Hi-O little cosmos;
revolving around an unfamiliar street lamp.
Snow, your cold feathered suns
catch on twigs,
branched off
from the big bang by alternating current.

As I jaunt down the lane punctuated
by chilly parallel Universes – so many – Heavens!
Stars shot into my eyes melt as I stroll.

I see children chain smoke here just like back home.
Mouths become smoke stacks for stardust in the winter.
Back home they were Slim, but it’s the same carcinogen –
that addictive feeling, powerful as gravity, that need to smile
as solar systems pile on my black jacket shoulders.

-----------

Brent is a sohpomore from Falls Church, VA

Meeting the Ancestors Through the Use of Objects or Clothing by Kathy Abromeit

This semester we have spent some time journeying to meet an ancestor, and we have found it helpful to rely on clothing from the ancestor.

My mother grew up in an orphanage in Montana, and in one discussion about her youth, I asked her what she had of her childhood. I was talking about school report cards, or class photos, or notes from her friends, etc. Much to my surprise, she brought out a bag of black buttons. She said that she didn't have any of those more traditional objects, but she did have a bag of the buttons that were used at the orphanage to mend their clothes. They were black buttons that came in two sizes - large for jackets and small for shirts. After my mom died, I asked for the bag of buttons. The connection with my mom's childhood is made through a little bag of black buttons.

Often when I journey to learn more about my mother's childhood or to do healing work around that time of her life, or personal issues for me that may have had roots in her childhood, I hold the buttons in my hands. They serve as a conduit to that time in her life and allow me to "see" her childhood more clearly. I do have a photo of her when she was about sixteen and was released from the orphange to her older sister, but the buttons are all I have from the earlier days of her life. Of course, she told me stories, but the buttons tell the stories that were too painful for her to share.

Several people in the exco found this system of journeying to be quite helpful as a way to hone in and"see" differently in doing ancestral healing work.

Another similar example that I have used is from a healing quest that I did a few years ago around my paternal grandmother, Mary Abromeit (1888-1983). As I was feeling called to the woods, I began asking for dream guidance around the purpose, the vision, of this retreat. During the weeks before going, I had several dreams with my grandmother. In the first dream, Gramma and I were sitting in the woods at a monastery. In the second dream, we were sitting in her garden looking at a small yellow flower. In both dreams, no words were exchanged; we were just being together. I decided it was time, again, to seek the stillness, the sacred silence, the light within and work on healing my relationship with my grandmother. Basically, it was a wonderful relationship, but I had some regrets regarding the end of her life.

I took a photo of my grandmother with me to the hermitage, as well as some jewelry she had given me, and a rosary I had purchased for her at the Vatican while touring Europe with a music group when I was 16 years old. I also found a wool jacket she had given me long ago, and I wore the now snug-fitting jacket throughout much of the retreat. I also brought some morel mushrooms and ate a “Gramma meal” while on the retreat. There were several times when I was out walking in the woods that I felt her next to me, and at one point, I could hear her gentle call of “hoo, hoo,” something she used to do when she would call for us while picking berries in the woods. This quest was structured around the reflecting practice called Naikan. For more information on the practice, I strongly recommend you take a look at the webpage for the ToDo Institute in Vermont. The full article of the retreat was published in the ToDo Institute's publication, Thirty Thousand Days: A Journal for Purposeful Living.

Through the use of clothes and objects as a conduit and the self-reflection of Naikan along with the non-ordinary of the shamanic state, I entered a kind of rite of passage that was a receptive place of transformation. Working specifically in this way, I assumed responsibility for harm caused by me in a timeless way, and became a participant in a family healing. Because my grandmother had since passed, communicating my responsibility for harm I caused her was done in a shamanic timeless state. While speech has strong consequences, I do believe that thoughts are an action as well. Perhaps the consequences of thoughts are less strong than an outward act of speech, but nonetheless, I believe that in assuming responsibility for the harm we cause others, we change the karmic direction of the consequences of our past actions.

In shamanism, time contains all our concepts and ideas about time. The relationship was in the “past,” yet it was being cherished in the “now” with all the life experiences and journeys that have brought me to this moment. Through this retreat, I gained a sense of past and present and future influencing each other in a nonlinear way. We don’t really know which comes first, the waves of the ocean coming in or the waves of the ocean going out. Similarly, I can consider an act that I committed in 1975, perhaps an act that I did not identify as harmful at the time. Now, however, I assume responsibility for it as having caused harm, and somehow the past is changed by the present. I had the sense that the results of present actions permeate in all directions of time, from the present into the past and future, like fragrance permeating.

Working with the ancestors is a powerful way to do healing, and it is especially helpful to call on objects, photos, or clothing as a way to bring our worlds closer together.

My healing quest with my grandmother ended with the following poem:

Pixelated Memories


I wonder what it is of us that sustains time?

Is it that chicken and celery soup you taught me to make?
Might it be the way you put comfrey balm on my red-speckled arm?
The sweet lavender soap we decorated with flower patterns?
The way you taught me to hold the beads during prayer?
The raisin-filled cookies with pink icing and a maraschino cherry?
Or the way, in pinochle, you trickily trumped the Queen
with the forgotten ace?

Or will it be relationship, our dyad, that sustains time?

You the grandmother, the matriarch, the wise crone,
the gypsy healer, the teacher, and I
the grand daughter, searching for mooring, nuzzled in your
familial kinship soaking up each word, inadequate
to respond to your life stories of survival, of loss,
of love, of disappointments, of beauty, of impetuous liaisons.

our pixelated memories sit in space and fall
like stars in the night sky waiting to be wished upon

stars unhindered by this and that, single-minded
and unshakable, and yet,
in this trilogy I have caused harm amidst all that you’ve given.
I am sorry for being careless with the sacredness of our dyad.

You have sustained me in innumerable ways.
with gratitude, I bow.
thank you
for your moon-disked face, a boundless circle
you are my unsurpassed grandmother of great compassion

Top Picks for Early Spring

Watch

The Miniature Earth and learn more about our little global village called earth!

Read

World Prayers a website devoted to the great prayers written by the spiritual visionaries of our planet.

Smell

The Practice of Using Your Nose - Among our five senses, the sense of smell is the most powerful in evoking memories. Yes, you can better develop your sense of smell! Check it out.

Surf

Sky Sister, founded by two Native American sisters, uses natural ingredients to create soothing, healing and wonderfully fragrant bath and body products.

Listen

to "Treat Us The Same," featuring the mbira from Zimbabwe.

Ponder

Fibonacci Numbers and the Golden Section is a web site on the Fibonacci numbers, the Golden section and the Golden string hosted by the Mathematics Department of the University of Surrey, UK. You can learn how pine cones show the Fibonacci Spirals clearly.

Be in Awe

Here's an ancestor for you! World's 'oldest' person in Israel. Mrs Amash has 10 children, 120 grandchildren, 250 great-grandchildren, and 30 great-great-grandchildren, and she's 120 years old!

Love your Power Animal

A 6-year-old boy curls up with 20-foot-long pet python in Kandal, Cambodia - uh, how about that for a relationship with your power animal?!

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Photo by Kathy Abromeit

Thank you!

Whispers of the Stones

is a publication of the Oberlin College Shamanism Exco.

Editor: Kathy Abromeit ~~ Assistant Editor: John Sabin

Big thanks and squishy toes to Derek Dube, Lauren Clark, Alyssa Zullinger, Jeff Zahratka, Briana Carroll, Brent Newman, Jenny Gaeng, Brent Newman; Aidan Plank, YouTube, Gratefulness.org, worldprayers.org, sistersky.com, University of Surrey, UK., bbc.co.uk, Clip Art

All contents are copyright (c) of the authors. No part of this newsletter or its contents can be duplicated without permission.

Welcome

Dear Readers,

Welcome to the fall/early winterish issue of Whispers of the Stones. It was a full semester for us studying shamanism – a lot of descending and ascending and descending and ascending and then simply being in the middle. Shamanism is like that. We traveled up and down and far and wide to do the necessary work this semester. Somehow, each return to the ordinary was an ending and also a beginning, an "endbeginningness."

In music we think about this in terms of perceiving, after the fact, that the cadential chord at the end of one phrase is the initial chord of the next phrase. It gives the impression that ending and beginning happen at the same moment in time. I like the way that sounds and appears visually in my mind’s eye. Realistically though, it’s important for us to trust life and allow there to be space between the endings and the beginnings. It’s often an uncomfortable place to be but can be quite beautiful as well.

We had the opportunity this semester to sit in a timeless evening with Mandaza Augustine Kandemwa, a traditional African healer. As is often the case with those profound events, it’s easier to witness than explain. There is a Hindu practice where the teacher throws out small pieces of candy, symbolic of the teachings and wisdom. The students catch the candies and eat them. This process incorporates the sweetness of wisdom, and it becomes a part of who we are. Our period of space or “endbeginningness”with Mandaza was much like this.

I hope your new year is escorted in with space. Soon enough, daily life will march in to bring a new beginning, but even if for a few moments, may we trust life and allow there to be some sacred silence and space. Thank you for reading this issue of "Whispers of the Stones."

Celebrate this day,
-kathy

In this issue:

Welcome
Healing with Mandaza by Kathy Abromeit, Jeff Zahratka, & Grace Hollaender
Nature, Spirit and Students Unite in Popular ExCo by Elisabeth Albeck
Remembering Fred Lassen by Kathy Abromeit
Monarchs by Alyssa Zullinger
Animals, Animals, Animals by Jeff Zahratka, Nicki Adams, & Derek Dube
Giraffe World by Briana Carroll
Ancestor Song by Lauren Clark
Seven Ways to Descend by Lauren Clark
From Beneath a Great Tree: a Story for Children of All Ages by Derek Dube
Perhaps One Day by Kathy Abromeit
Shamanism Reflection Paper by Samantha Bass
One Path by Brent Newman ~~ "godgene twins" (artwork) by Briana Carroll
Spring Shamanism Exco
Healing for Virginia Tech – Revisited
In the News
Thank you

All contents are copyright (c) of the authors. No part of this newsletter or its contents can be duplicated without permission.

Healing with Mandaza by Kathy Abromeit, Jeff Zahratka, & Grace Hollaender

["Mandaza" - kodalith line screen print by Grace Hollaender.]

We were very fortunate this fall to have Mandaza Augustine Kandemwa join our group for a night of healing. Mandaza is a nganga, a Bantu shaman or medicine man, in the Shona and Ndebele traditions of Zimbabwe, initiated into the ngoma of the water spirits – the Central African tradition of healing and peacemaking, and he was joined by Michele Hofer, Co-founder/ Youth Director for the Pathways Foundation for Peace and Healing. The Pathways Foundation along with co-supporters hosted Mandaza's fall visit in Ohio.

Mandaza is internationally known as a peacemaker, a healer and a teacher of African wisdom. From that invisible world from which the spirits speak, Mandaza depends on his dreams and those of his clients to do the work of healing and bringing peace to community. He has co-authored three books with Michael Ortiz Hill: “Gathering in the Names”, one of the few books that discuss Shona cosmology and traditional healing practices, "Twin from Another Tribe," and the 2006 book, “The Village of the Water Spirits.”

Recently, Mr. Kandemwa journeyed to southern India as a guest of the Oneness University. He spent 21 days experiencing the "enlightenment process" and receiving "deeksha" (a Sanskrit word meaning benediction), a transfer of divine energy designed to bring about a state of enlightenment or oneness. The 21-day process culminated in Mr. Kandemwa's initiation and his graduation as a teacher.

A note from Jeff Zahratka on our evening with Mandaza:

One of my favorite experiences was the dream ritual with Mandaza. Mandaza taught us that dreams are messages from beyond, of things that we're missing in our world and that we should listen to them. During the journey at that session, I had two very cryptic symbols appear in my head: the tarot card The Star, and a stained glass window. This particular window was very strange: it had an orange background with a knight bowing to a queen with a red rose in his hand, with the words “La Conquistador” underneath the picture.

I knew the meaning of The Star as being hope from my tarot experience, but the stained glass window was a bit of a mystery until several weeks later, when we did the journeys for relationships and being in the right relationship. When I journeyed for that particular session, there was an angry fox (that wasn't my spiritual guide) in my safe place. I viewed this disturbance as a disturbance of nature, which is actually fundamental to relationships. From this particular set of journeys, I learned that what makes a relationship a right relationship is one that is in balance with both the will of Nature and the roles of the people involved, and every good relationship contains truth, compassion, mutual interest, faithfulness, good communication, and respect.

It is through these factors in which a relationship grows and develops in every aspect: physical, mental, and spiritual, and when you are in the proper relationship, you grow as a person in the same areas of your life where that particular relationship grows. This ultimately relates to the stained glass window found in the dream ritual, because if you have a relationship with these factors in place, you can overcome all difficulties in the relationship and have an incredibly rewarding experience through your involvement in the relationship.

The magic and teachings of the time spent with Mandaza remained with us throughout the semester. We'd like to thank Michele Hofer and the Pathways Foundation for Peace and Healing for bringing Mandaza to Ohio and allowing us to spend an evening with him.

Dare' with Mandaza (by Mike Wimberly on YouTube)

Mandaza Speaks (by Mike Wimberly on YouTube)

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Grace is a sophomore from Bala Cynwyd, PA; Kathy Abromeit teaches shamanism in Oberlin College’s Experimental College. Her mandalas are displayed here and are available for purchase at Ginko Gallery in Oberlin, OH. Jeff is a sophomore from Lorain, OH.

Nature, Spirit and Students Unite in Popular ExCo by Elisabeth Albeck

Peaceful Gathering: Abromeit’s popular class cultivates the profound within students. [Photo by Rachel Saudek]

[The article was originally published in Arts Section of The Oberlin Review, November 3, 2007 and was reprinted with permission.]

We come to the circle, creaking shoeless across the hardwood floor. In the center of the ring of pillows is the only source of light: a candle. Next to the candle there are a hollowed bone with lustrous feathers splaying out of it, a dish of dried herbs, a vase exclaiming deep greens, wheat and bright orange flowers. The air is fragrant with sage. These features invoke a feeling of reverence for simplicity and create a quiet space for reflection.

This centerpiece draws the weighty gaze of mostly harried students in pajama-esque clothing. Their expressions range from peaceful to listless as they pick up instruments and begin to play. It is almost half an hour after the class has begun, and people are still slipping in, elaborating on the rhythm and escaping their academic shells. It is exam week, a time when students justify dipping out of obligations galore, but something about this experience resonates beyond obligation. Something about it is medicine. By 8 p.m., the room is full. Lying somewhere between a religious meeting, a mystical ritual and group therapy is the Shamanism ExCo class.

Kathy Abromeit, Public Services Librarian in the Conservatory Library, has been the teacher of this popular class for nine semesters. There are no tests in her class. With the wisdom of her own experience and knowledge of spiritual practices from varied cultures, she invites twenty-some students each semester to enter a space of embrace and reflection each Monday night.

An Invitation

On October 14, the focus is rock readings. Students have brought in rocks from which they must decipher symbols. Each person must think of a question, pore over craggy surfaces and wait for images to emerge. Whatever appears is meant to provide a device to answer the question. Before the activity, while discussing how to enter a trance state, doubts arise. As always, the class is made of individuals with varied levels of comfort with and openness to experimentation. Kathy suggests rocking the body while focusing on a spot on the stone.

A student opens up about his experience with Tai Chi and the concept of “looking beyond” an object. It is one of the many mentions of other cultures that pepper the class.Abromeit then gauges the cynicism, the skepticism. She goes out on a limb. “Don’t censor yourself,” Abromeit says. She is giving everyone an invitation to climb out on that limb, to experiment, to fail, to believe.

“Cynicism is great. The last thing I want is [for students] not to question,” says Abromeit as she sits with me in the dimly lit hall while Obies are staring at stones. “This is the age of questioning,” she continues, referring to the college years. “It is an age that hasn’t been controlled and manipulated by money. [They are still] somewhat idealistic.”

Abromeit doesn’t simply see her students as unsullied but as ripe for profound experience as well. She sees the end of adolescence as the time when many people “get the calling.” Though religiosity isn’t central to the class, the ritualistic structure is imbued with non-denominational sanctity. In the teacher’s own experiences, Shamanistic practices have been a bright passageway to the self and to the divine.

Surrendering to Intuition

“Shamanism is about returning to what we already know, a whole other invisible universe of intuition,” says Abromeit.

In Abromeit’s life, finding Shamanism wasn’t about looking. She is part Mohawk and comes from a lineage of folk healers. She grew up in rural Idaho with her father and grandmother, who both cultivated intuitive healing powers. Both of them worked with herbal medicine and assisted community members in the “passing over process.” Speaking of the ritualistic practices she grew up with and how they became the basis of the Shamanism ExCo, Abromeit says, “It had always been there, but we never called it Shamanism.”

The death of her father propelled Abromeit toward the practice.

“My father was dying, and I coached him. There was a transmission [when he died]. I had him focus on my eyes — his lungs were filling — he was freaking out. At one point I felt someone grab my arm and say, ‘you can’t go.’ I looked up and saw white fluid coming from his mouth.

“After his death, I had dreams of rituals, conversations with the light, recalled portions of his life review. I thought I was going crazy — promptly went to find a therapist — but the therapist wasn’t familiar with spiritual crisis.”

Abromeit mentions Roger Walsh, Professor of Psychiatry, Philosophy and Anthropology at the University of California, Irvine, who compares psychotic breakdowns to Shamanic initiation. In her own life, Abromeit considers suffering to be “key teacher.” Now students come to her class with their worried dreams and inquiries, with the aim to achieve opportunities to search themselves in a safe atmosphere.

Abromeit’s Shamanism

Because Abromeit’s own relationship with Shamanism is so integrated, she does not rely on any one cultural framework from which to draw material. She has done extensive reading on different cultural practices and has attended a workshop given by the Foundation of Shamanic Studies. She mentions her awareness of the fact that some members of the Oberlin community find what she does problematic on the basis of cultural appropriation.

Abromeit responded to questions about where her rituals came from:

“It is really important not to practice cultural appropriation.” Abromeit says. Though the class utilizes iconistic instruments without context, she often makes sure to at least casually attribute ideas to specific cultures when she mentions them during class activities. To design the course, Abromeit relies primarily on her intuition, and teaches by example. Just as she asks students to reverentially consult their subconscious minds, she asks the same of herself. Regarding the inspiration for class activities Abromeit says, “If it comes to me in a dream state, I consider it a gift.”

Spirit Quest or Quiet Space

When we re-enter the room there is a light on and students are scattered in pairs. The previously quiet space is now filled with intermittent laughter. The circle is jagged and people in their loungewear are in various states of sprawl. The enterprise of rock-gazing has left many students energized, although probably for different reasons. Their questions ranged from yes or no, “Should I go to Senegal and France next year?” to heavy and heady, “How can I reach total enlightenment?” Students saw or imagined images that reminded them of what is happening in their lives — beyond papers and tests and rehearsal. Some might have been thrilled by the simple, forgotten act of taking time to focus on themselves. Maybe others were just moved by the chance to speak openly with another student. A bonus of the class: the opportunity it provides to connect with others in a non-academic setting — to listen to another’s voice and experience, free from gossip or a complaint about Ohio weather.

Whether or not people are finding symbols and answers or trusting the source of whatever they find, what is most compelling about the class is that regardless of one’s confidence in the practices, the Shamanism ExCo provides an environment that exists nowhere else on campus. Try to recall one class that has been designed for “accessing gateways in understanding the profound connections with Self, Nature and Spirit.” In its intention alone, the Shamanism ExCo is a bold presence in the skeptical, often God-ignoring social atmosphere of Oberlin.

At the least, the class allows the student to quiet his or her mind and forget about the worries of the day. At most, it offers students a taste of non-denominational spiritual practice, a powerful recognition of the divine in the self.

That the class has been consistently full and popular reveals the hunger in our student body for something other than academia, something more essential than the pervasive Facebook and grades and joints. The Shamanism ExCo is a course on communication with the self, and the way we communicate with the self is a microcosm of how we relate to world around us. The class calls for vision, honesty and trust. But like the hundreds of opportunities we constantly negotiate in college, it is what you make of it. And for the skeptical minds out there who are concerned about what is revealed about their capacities for belief or suspension of imagination or anything in between, Abromeit says with a confident smile: “The only way to own the practice is to test it.”

Remembering Fred Lassen by Kathy Abromeit

Manfred J. “Fred” Lassen, Protestant Chaplain at Oberlin College since 1987, died early December of heart failure. He was 67 years old. Fred worked in the Oberlin Office of Religious and Spiritual Life, helping students, staff and professors with religious questions and everyday life.

He was a man of peace. In the late 90s he helped lead a vigil to close down the School of the Americas. Oberlin students hung peace cranes in a sycamore tree behind Wilder Hall during the vigil, and Fred photographed the event. This photo taken by Fred captures his spirit, an image I will long remember.

Fred helped me a great deal at various points in my fifteen years at Oberlin. I grew to know him the best some ten years ago after my father's death when he lent an ear and heart to help soften the loss. He was well read and eager to share his enthusiasm for his most recent learning. It seemed that often he spoke to me of Alexander Solzhenitsyn's writings and the Gulag, the Soviet labor camp system.

Fred liked the following quote:

“If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?” - Solzhenitsyn

As I think about Fred today, I'm struck by how much time we spent talking about prisons, work camps, and the urge to hold our darkness close to us. It's interesting how those beliefs about ourself become a kind of prison. Fred had a way of carrying healing to those dark places. Thank you, Fred, and peace to you.

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Kathy Abromeit teaches shamanism in Oberlin College’s Experimental College. Her mandalas are displayed here and are available for purchase at Ginko Gallery in Oberlin, OH.

Monarchs by Alyssa Zullinger

The clouds of foliage are glazed orange
in the dusk, dropping yellow leaves that spiral in the wind.
Shoom, a car roars, flashing red metal.
I close my eyes to the weight on my chest.
(Red darkness.
"Are you alright there?" someone asks.
I say, "Yes. Just thinking.")
When I open my eyes, there is no one.

Once, past darkness eyelids, I witnessed
a sky made of orange monarchs, orange wings,
suffocating the air.
On the earth, clouds of orange motion rolling,
a golden man emerged. His eyes opened.
He hefted a hammer and tossed it to the sky,
and cleared a hole, sunlight pouring through.

---------------

Alyssa is a sophomore from Wilington, DE.

Animals, Animals, Animals by Jeff Zahratka, Nicki Adams, & Derek Dube

One of the most common shamanic journeys undertaken is retrieving a power animal. A power animal is a guardian spirit or familiar manifesting itself as an animal who has compassion for a person and agrees to act as a guide, advisor, and healer. It's a sacred and special relationship. Jeff, Nicki, and Derek share the following:

Jeff Zahratka: In the shamanism class, our first journey was supposed to be used to find our spirit guide. My particular journey was very interesting, as I wasn't sure if I was doing the shamanistic ritual quite correctly, and was having a hard time differentiating between what thoughts were racing in my head as opposed to the actual shamanistic trance. On this journey, I found myself in an area near a lake, with the ruins of some sort of temple nearby. I was nearly alone, only surrounded by the wilderness and a few random animals (such as a rabbit and a squirrel). I studied the area a bit, and did not seem to find anything of huge significance.

Suddenly, a fox appeared and started talking to me. He asked me about various things, such as what I thought of the lake and the area surrounding it. I told him that I thought it was incredibly beautiful, and told him that I was looking for my spirit guide. He looked around for a bit, then told me that the thing I was looking for was right under my nose. Then I asked him if he was my spirit guide, he said yes, and that was how I got my spirit guide. My guide has been extremely helpful with all of my journeying and other endeavors throughout the class, as well as some things outside of it.
~~~~~

My Power Animal by Nicki Adams

Steve, Steve - where did you go?
I saw you frolicking to and fro
Across the milkywhite abyss of the upper world I
saw you smiliing down into my heart
And I thought
How beautiful you are - how wise and majestic
Art of mind or mind of art
Which are ye?
But the latter of course
For without thee the rocks and skies
Would sooner fail to recognize
My being

~~~~~

Jeff Zahratka: During one of the classes, we paired off into groups of two and went to the lower world to retrieve a power animal for the other person. I was paired with my friend Alyssa, and she retrieved a turtle as my power animal. When I first met my power animal, I felt like he didn't really like me too much, because he was very cold and distant.

Eventually I learned that this was just his personality, and that in reality he had no problem with me. While not playing as significant of a role in my journeying experiences as my spirit guide, my power animal has still been very helpful throughout my experiences in this class. Toward the end of the class, I realized the reason I had received the turtle – it was a symbol indicating that I should go out and meet new people and do new things.

~~~~~

Derek Dube: My power animal is an animal spirit that is linked to me. I was able to meet him through one of our journeys, where two students retrieved power animals for each other. My power animal is a great companion to me, and a wonderful friend. I was able to see a lot of things about companionship and what it means to be there for someone as I was developing my relationship with him. The most beautiful experiences that I have had during the semester have been involving the different spirits and entities through journeys. To be able to find companions from whom I can learn so much has made me look at interactions in a whole new way, both bad and good.

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Derek is a first-year from Foster, RI; Nicki is a first-year from Prescotf, AZ; and Jeff is a sophomore from Lorain, OH.

Giraffe World by Briana Carroll

[double on the image for a larger version]

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Briana Carroll is a first-year who hails from Chicago.

Power Animal by Jenny Gaeng

I draw my strength from
the smallest red sea turtle
in the lower world

how strange to look in
a creature's eyes and see my
watery image

always we journey
bounding through time and space to
a resolution

-------

jenny is a first-year from Lutherville, Maryland.

Ancestor Song by Lauren Clark

I sink below the ground

through the topsoil

drop like dew or gum.

And so we meet again.

You are revolving

underwater; you do not

remember me.

You cannot see me
through eyes clouded

with sea water and liquor.

I eye you like a shark,

like I am not a little girl

on a friendly gray pony

half asleep in a perfumed room,

remembering things about you

she does not know

------------

Lauren is a first-year from Ridgewood, NJ .

Seven Ways to Descend by Lauren Clark

The first, to climb the staircase of a tree;
the second, to ride your hammock as it

waddles away, rocking; the third would be
to sink through the ground, the rocks, sand, grit;
the fourth, to stand tenuously on land

like a water bug denting the river,

until the ground lets you slip through its hands;

the fifth, to follow the glimpsed gray silver,

in the branches of bushes; the sixth, to

slide through the grates of the driveway storm drain;

seventh, to step through an ominous new

door, the door with teeth, with breath, with a brain,

with a voice, with secrets to tell you. Home

is ingrained, is your teacher, is unknown.

-----
Lauren is a first-year from Ridgewood, NJ.

From Beneath a Great Tree: a Story for Children of All Ages by Derek Dube

There once was a young woman who had beautiful golden hair. Every day she would go into the woods to pick mushrooms from beneath a great tree. One day a young man was riding through the woods and saw her. He stopped next to her and asked her why she was picking the mushrooms. She explained that her family was in danger from a monstrous creature. Her father was a magician, and was able to do strong magic to protect the family, but only with the aid of the mushrooms beneath the tree. The young man asked what the family did during the winter, when the mushrooms were not able to be found. She told him that they stored enough of them to last through the winter, but she had to come out and pick them every day.

The young man was brash and confident, and the young woman with the beautiful hair compelled him. He offered to take arms against the creature and slay it, freeing the family. She laughed and thanked him, but declined the offer. She told him that the family was fine and that he needn’t worry. He rode on and she finished picking and went home. And every day she came back to the tree, and as time went on her beautiful hair grew longer and longer.

One day the young man rode by her again and stopped. He asked about why her hair was so long. She smiled and told him that she had no time to cut it. All day she picked mushrooms and helped her father. Again the young man offered to help the family by slaying the creature, and again the young woman with the beautiful hair smiled and declined, telling him that the family was happy.

That night, a boar came by the tree. It began to eat the mushrooms. All through the night it feasted and the mushrooms could not grow anew, for the boar, with its ravenous appetite, ate them faster than they could grow. Early in the morning, before the dawn had broken, the young man was riding back by the tree. He looked over, thinking of the young woman with the beautiful hair, and was shocked to see instead a giant boar. He could see that the boar had eaten all of the mushrooms. He was worried for the family, and so he quickly slew the boar with his sword. The boar’s blood spread about the roots of the tree and the ground and roots became infertile. The young man saw what he had done and knew terrible remorse.

He waited by the tree until the young woman with the beautiful hair came, as she did every day. She was distraught when she saw that there would be no more mushrooms. The young man was in agony over the harm he had done. He begged her to let him reverse the damage by going to slay the creature. The young woman with the beautiful hair knew that, since it was the beginning of spring, the family did not have enough mushrooms to last more than a day. She accepted the young man’s offer and led him to the family’s small house. The father was surprised to see her back so soon and she explained all that had happened. He agreed that there was no other choice but to accept the young man’s offer. He told him where the creature lived and used the remaining mushrooms to cast a weak protective spell on the young man. The young man set out to slay the creature.

When he got to the grove of trees where the father had told him to go, however, he discovered the creature lying dead. It had died quietly long before the young man had ever met the young woman with the beautiful hair. He looked down at the creature’s body and then at his sword. He felt a great temptation: he could pretend that he had killed the creature and would be a great hero. He was able to resist such cruel temptation and went back to the home of the family to tell them the truth. After he had told them, the father eagerly took out his book of spells and began to pore through the pages. He was excited that now he could begin learning and practicing more magic. Before, all his time had been taken up by the casting of the same spell every day.

The young man looked to the young woman with the beautiful hair, expecting to see the excitement of freedom upon her face. Instead he found apprehension and anxiety. She was frightened, for now her life was a blank page. Everything that she knew was now useless, and she didn’t know what she would do. The young man had come to love the young woman with the beautiful hair and offered to help her by making her his wife. The father blessed the marriage enthusiastically. And the couple lived out their lives in perfect happiness, for the young man who spent all his days dreaming in the forest and the young woman with the beautiful hair who loved to find happiness everywhere were wonderful compliments to each other.

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Derek is a first-year from Foster, RI.

Perhaps One Day by Kathy Abromeit

Out of a profound need
we are all holding hands,
walking around
the roots of a mulberry tree.
Sweet lovers.
My only regret is that some believe
we don’t need to hold hands.
and others, that the tree is tired of
protecting the unripe.
Stay near the tree and get wobbly with
pungent, sweet compassion.
Your soul might be born in your pocket.
And then, perhaps you’ll one day
plunge into the rain
and become
a condition called
a beautiful
cloud.

---------------

Kathy Abromeit teaches shamanism in Oberlin College’s Experimental College. Her mandalas are displayed here and are available for purchase at Ginko Gallery in Oberlin, OH.

Shamanism Reflection Paper by Samantha Bass

I distinctly recall wandering around the ExCo fair at the beginning of the semester, feeling completely overwhelmed by the vast number of unique, interesting courses offered. Even though I did not know much about Shamanism, or what it entailed, the table caught my attention and I decided to check it out. In high school I took a meditation and yoga course, so had some experience with such practices. I also consider myself a very spiritual person and am always open to different ways of viewing the world. Shamanism appealed to me because it was a completely new experience and would offer a chance to further explore my own spirituality.

Initially I went into the course with no expectations or prior judgments. I had little idea of what to expect and felt open to pretty much any outcome. Although I signed up with an open mind, I still felt slightly skeptical about Shamanism. I personally find it hard to believe in many spiritual practices, such as Tarot reading or astrology, and thought Shamanism would be similar. I always considered that certain “miracles," such as predicting the future, happened as a result of coincidence, not foresight. And even if Shamanism worked for other, more experienced individuals, I never honestly believed that I would have success. Despite these initial doubts, I realized that I would still leave the course knowing a little more about myself than when I began, which is exactly what I sought.

The first Shamanism class went above my expectations and made me realize what an amazing opportunity Oberlin offered. I remember walking up the stairs, into the yoga studio, and being overwhelmed with incense and the small flame in the center of the room. I felt transported into another world, and all that mattered was the flame and circular mats. The unique energy in the room vibrated very powerfully, and I immediately felt the sense that this class offered nothing I ever experienced before. I also remember sensing that this class was legitimate and serious: we all became Shamans as soon as we opened the door. Feeling confident and excited, I opened my mind to the first journey, hoping for a valuable experience.

I still believe that my first journey was one of my most significant and powerful experiences this semester. I remember closing my eyes and slowly tuning in to the drum beat, ready for anything to happen. The silence was overwhelming and I felt extremely close to all the students in our circle, even though we only met that day. At first I just listened to the drum, not really having any significant thoughts; however, after a few moments my thoughts became increasingly focused. Without realizing it, I felt the sensation of lying on my hammock in my backyard, back home in New Jersey. It is difficult to explain, and I am not positive I really understand what happened, but I felt like my mind was discovering a new place. Later, after taking in the essence of my back yard, I imagined a large, white bird land on the hammock and motion for me to follow it. Somehow, I climbed onto its wings and felt myself launched into the sky, ready for a tour of our mysterious world. I spent the rest of the journey observing the ground beneath us and enjoying the flying sensation.

After that first journey, I am ready to accept almost anything. My experience was nothing like I initially expected and took me completely by surprise. The journey felt extremely clear and vivid, as if it were happening in a dream. Now, after spending much more time journeying and becoming comfortable with my mind, I am beginning to realize why Shamanism is so powerful. I believe that our minds are constantly trapped by language and other social constructions, preventing us from living solely in our imagination. Shamanism provides a temporary outlet from our traditional sense of reality, and even if what I experience in my journeying holds no real truth, and exists only in my imagination, it still feels real to me at the time.

I know that I will continue to use and apply what I’ve learned for the rest of my life. Spending a little time each week escaping from the madness of our world was always refreshing and comforting, especially on those dreary Mondays. Shamanism opened my mind to ideas which I never previously considered possible, and I seriously anticipate further exploring my spirituality.
-----

Sam Bass is currently a first-year at Oberlin College. When she isn'texploring various realms of the universe with her spirit-guide, she enjoys lying on the grass and discussing nonviolent revolution.

One Path by Brent Newman ~~ "godgene twins" (artwork) by Briana Carroll

Swirls of autumn leaves ablaze
Speak to me in the voices of Chinese mystics
And show me a path.

It runs up a mountain and up to the moon
Plays a little ring around Saturn
And jumps over Jupiter.

With gravity gone
I shoot by stars
Draped in space
And fold into infinity.

This great limestone hall
Lined with recognized faces
And familiar-strangers of silent-types.

A little of this divinity will come with me.
Looking back down, at the steeples
Reaching up with crosses like hands,
I hope they get it too.

----------------

"godgene twins" artwork by Briana Carroll. Briana is a first-year who hails from Chicago.

Brent is a sohpomore from Falls Church, VA.

Spring Shamanism Exco

Double click on the image for a larger version of the informational card.

Healing for Virginia Tech - Revisited

Below is the original post from our healing work for Virginia Tech. We received a wonderful thank you note from the Dean of Students office, inviting us to view a virtual tour of campus memorials.-- "Virginia Tech Remembers."

Prayer arrows

The following note accompanied the prayer arrows we made for the Virginia Tech:



In an atmosphere of quiet and harmony, our shamanism circle made these prayer arrows for you. Your school colors are burgundy and orange and ours are burgundy and gold. We thought it appropriate to wrap our colors together in healing for all those involved at Virginia Tech. The meditative action of winding on bands of colored thread reinforces our prayers for harmony and balance for you and yours.

With prayers for healing,
The Oberlin College Shamanism Circle,
Oberlin, Ohio

[Many thanks to Joanna Lord for her ability to hold the space for the meditation and healing that went into these arrows. Jo is a junior from Peterborough, New Hampshire.]

In the News

Sleights of Mind
By GEORGE JOHNSON August 21, 2007

Some magicians have intuitively mastered some of the lessons being learned in the laboratory about the limits of cognition and attention. more

MondayMusic of Shamans to Be Featured
By Chung Ah-young; September 3, 2007; Korea Times

Korean shamanistic ritual, or "gut," is still deep-rooted in Korean culture even in this modern era, despite being long disregarded as superstition that has to be toppled in many quarters. Shamanistic ritual dies hard as a folk culture, rather than as a religious belief. According to a recent survey, there are an estimated 300,000 shamans in the nation.

The public will have a chance to experience gut via a route they may be unfamiliar with. The first Gut Music Festival will kick off in Uijeongbu, Gyeonggi Province Sept. 14-16 to mark the 10th anniversary of the establishment of the Gyeonggi Cultural
Foundation.

It is the first major attempt to combine shamanistic ritual with popular music. The festival will include an academic symposium about gut ritual along with spirit-possessed shamans, and an outdoor concert of gut music by well-known musicians. Gut music is the cradle and treasure chest of Korean traditional music and performing arts."Pungmul gut" is nowadays played by ordinary men and women and the audience may join in for dancing; however, a real gut ritual is generally conducted by male or female "mudang," or spirit-possessed shaman and is not easily accessible to the general public. It is rare one is invited by one of these ritual specialists. "In the festival, shamans will participate in the shows and rituals. Genuine rituals will be conducted by shamans," Lim Eun-ah, an official of the festival organizer, said

Norval Morrisseau, Native Canadian Artist, Is Dead By Randy Kennedy December 8, 2007

Norval Morrisseau, also known as Copper Thunderbird, one of Canada’s most celebrated painters and an important influence in the development of North American indigenous art, died Tuesday in Toronto. Mr. Morrisseau, an Ojibwa (also called Anishnaabe or Chippewa) shaman, was one of the first native painters to adopt modernist styles to convey traditional aboriginal imagery and to have a crossover career in contemporary art. more

Kadazandusun teens shed sneakers for shaman-hood
Nw Straits Times (Malaysia); July 14, 2007 by Roy Goh

Wearing a round-collared T-shirt, jeans and sneakers, he looks like an ordinary teenager. But Almius Aman is more than that. When he puts on his sigar and moludu, which are the traditional Kadazandusun headgear and shirt, he enters the spirit world. For Almius, 16, is among a handful of apprentice "bobolian", or shaman, from the Tindal community in Tempasuk, Kota Belud, who are now appearing alongside their seniors at blessing rituals.

His calling is no surprise as his father, Aman Sirom, 54, is a "bobolian" who is much sought after during special occasions and for spiritual "consultations". "I guess it runs in the family. I learnt the ways of the shaman from my elders when I was younger
and the tradition now continues through my son," Aman said. He said his eldest son, Nijom, 18, an automotive engineering student at a higher learning institution here, was also a shaman. "From now, most of the apprentices will only join in blessing rituals, which normally need seven `bobolian'. They are given the smaller tasks," he said. Aman said his sons asked to be initiated into the tradition.

Shamanism Enjoys Revival in Techno-Savvy South Korea by Choe Sang-Hun
July 7, 2007

There are an estimated 300 shamanistic temples within an hour of Seoul’s bustling city center, and in them, shamans perform their clamorous ceremonies every day. more

Indian tribes expel members more