What shamanism means to me

Welcome to my website. If you have landed here you may be wondering who I am, what I offer and how I relate to shamanism in my life and work. As a white western woman I'm super aware of cultural appropriation, and I'm always looking for ways in which I can stay in integrity in my relationship to shamanic practice. I don't decorate myself with feathers, I use sage sparingly, and in fact I don't even call myself Shaman, far from it. What I do engage in is shamanic practice for healing purposes, and using the medicine wheel as a framework for life, personal awareness and reciprocity with the world in which I live.

I’ve been trained and mentored in shamanic practice by a couple of people who have been instrumental in the deepening of my understanding - one practices core shamanism and works mostly with the North American Lakota tradition, the other works mainly with the south American lineage of the Qu’ero people. You can find Chris HERE and you can find Davina HERE.

In my own practice, shamanism offers me an ever shifting perspective on, and gratitude for life. As I learn to ‘walk in beauty’, stand in integrity, and honour the cycles and changes in life, I find I can return to this ‘map’ of consciousness whenever I need to bring myself back to centre and remember who I am and why I’m here - it’s simple, humble and inspiring to me.

I’d like to share this letter below after it was beautifully read out by one of my friends in a drumming circle. We meet online to sing traditional songs, drum and share. Often we laugh a lot too and all of this is our Medicine. The writing below is so old (1852), yet still so relevant. It moved me deeply and I hope it moves you too.

Chief Seattle’s Letter to the American President, 1852

“The President in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land. But how can you buy or sell the sky? The land? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you sell them? Every part of this earth is sacred to my people. Every shining pine needle, every humming insect. All are holy in the memory and experience of my people.

We know the sap which courses through the trees as we know the blood that courses through our veins. We are part of the earth and it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sisters. The bear, the deer, the great eagle, these are our brothers. The rocky crests, the juices in the meadow, the body heat of a pony, and man, all belong to the same family.

The shining water that moves in the streams and rivers is not just water, but the blood of our ancestors. If we sell you our land, you must remember that it is sacred. Each ghostly reflection in the clear waters of the lakes tells of events and memories in the life of my people. The waters murmur in the voice of my father’s father. The rivers are our brothers. They quench our thirst. They carry our canoes and feed our children. So you must give to the river the kindness you would give any brother.

If we sell you our land, remember that the air is precious to us, that the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports. The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also receives his last sigh. The wind also gives our children the spirit of life. So if we sell you our land, you must keep it apart and sacred, as a place where man can go to taste the wind that is sweetened by the meadow Flowers.

Will you teach your children what we have taught our children? That the earth is our Mother? What befalls the earth befalls all the sons of the earth.

This we know: The earth does not belong to man, man belongs to the earth. All things are connected like the blood that unites us all. Man did not weave the web of life; he is merely a strand of it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.

One thing we know: Our God is your God. The earth is precious to him and to harm the earth is to heap contempt on its Creator. Your destiny is a mystery to us. What will happen when the buffalo are all slaughtered? The wild horses tamed? What will happen when the secret corners of the forest are heavy with the scent of many men and the view of the ripe hills is blotted by talking wires? Where will the thicket be? Gone! Where will the eagle be? Gone! And what is it to say goodbye to the swift pony and the hunt? The end of living and the beginning of survival.

When the last red man has vanished with his wilderness and his memory is only the shadow of a cloud moving across the prairie, will these shores and forests still be here? Will there be any of the spirit of my people left?

We love this earth as a newborn loves its mother’s heartbeat. So if we sell you our land, love it as we have loved it. Care for it as we have cared for it. Hold in your mind the memory of the land as it is when you receive it. Preserve the land for all children and love it, as God loves us all.

As we are a part of the land, you too are part of the land. This earth is precious to us. It is also precious to you. One thing we know: There is only one God. No man, be he Red Man or White Man, can be apart. We are all brothers.”

Chief Seattle

“Native American isn’t blood. It is what is in the heart. The love for the land, the respect for it, those who inhabit it, and the respect and acknowledgement of the spirits and elders. That is what it is to be Indian.”
White Feather, Navajo Medicine Man

“We are all one Tribe, the Human Tribe…”