San Pedro - First Shaman Experience - Loja, Ecuador

[Dondante]

My younger brother is spending about 18 months in South America teaching English and traveling. His previous experience with psychedelics consists of a single dose of psilocin that we took together about a year ago. Here is a report he recently sent me on Shamanism gone awry.


The experience began on a Thursday night when a fellow English teacher at my language school shared his passion for painting spiritual visions experienced among various indigenous communities throughout the Americas via an art exhibition in Loja, Ecuador. Pausing to take in each work, I was amazed by the power of the indigenous symbols they contained. Although many questions were raised about the use and mix of sacred symbols from various cultures by a man of European descent, his passion and creativity gained him a deep respect in my eyes.

The following Saturday, after my two housemates left to travel to nearby towns, I decided to walk over to the cheapest internet place in Loja. I responded to a few emails, in one of which I mentioned that I hadn’t had any profound experiences as of late, but on my way to the city center, the most talkative laundry mat owner I’ve ever met stopped me and mentioned that the painter I teach with was planning to meet up with a local shaman for a healing ceremony. This information combined with my desire not to walk around in the rain, which was increasing in intensity, convinced me to pass by my language school to inquire about the ceremony instead of shopping for going away presents.

Upon reaching the top floor I met my colleague on his way down to a car that had just arrived and was waiting outside to take him into the podocarpus nature reserve where the ceremony was to be held. After a short hesitation, something about his willingness to include me convinced me to take the plunge, although at the time I had no idea what I was getting into.

Stopping by my house to pick up some warm clothes, we gradually made our way to a shelter high up in the Andes, stopping at several stores along the way to purchase elements for the ceremony. By the time we arrived night had fallen, and in the haste of putting things together, I got my first sense that the local shaman and his friends were less than well experienced. The site for the ceremony was a fairly well maintained two story wooden cabin painted brown and built upon a mountain that was said to contain particularly powerful spirits. Judging by the sign above the front door, it was built for use by park rangers, containing only basic facilities, a few abandoned offices, and a common room with a fireplace next to which I was later assigned my place.

Despite the rush, by 6pm we had begun the initial rounds of the ceremony, passing tobacco around our circle in the form of cigars, drinking San Pedro from a clay cup, and sharing our thoughts about four life phases: infancy, childhood, adulthood, and rebirth. As in my sweat bath experience with the Lakota Sioux on the Pine Ridge reservation exactly one year ago, tobacco was integral both as an offering and as a manner of organizing how members expressed their thoughts. But unlike this only previous experience with indigenous ceremony where I was an almost completely passive participant, this night I was expected to share equally in the maintenance of good energy through speaking, singing, and fulfilling my role in maintaining the fire throughout the night (it wasn’t until we were well on our way up the mountain that I realized this ceremony would last until the following morning).

The night continued to progress in a tobacco and medicinal herb smoke filled room with six of us in a circle alongside the fire, and the others’ inexperience and superficiality began to reveal itself in an almost childish necessity for ritual and procedure. In turn, my painter colleague who had also gained “shaman” status in his many years of experience in various indigenous ceremonies began to confront the others about their incessant use of insincere chants, disruptive sounds, and their insupportable need for control. Not being a scholar myself, I will just state that while the other shaman claimed that this was the ceremony he was taught, my colleague argued that it is the lack of dogma and regulation that separates shamanism from religion.

The tension continued to grow as the painter drifted off, closer and closer towards a state of trance, and the others attempted to impede his efforts through commands, loud noises, and their own physical positioning. The degree to which these efforts were conscious wasn’t completely clear, but as I sat observing the scene with a lucid consciousness, it was fascinating to see the power dynamics unfolding before me. With the painter seated near my right foot facing the fire, attempting to establish a connection, I watched as the other shaman repeatedly entered between the two to burn medicinal herbs, produced shrill sounds with a wooden flute, and commanded others to get up and pass by the painter to be sprayed with an alcohol smelling liquid for purification. I soon decided that my personal experience with San Pedro would have to wait, having only experienced a slight enhancement in visual and auditory perception, and I kept to watching as the painter fell deeper into trance and the others became threatened by the uncontrollability of the “spirits” he began to channel.

Facing the fire, and despite the interference, the painter began to chant and make eloquent hand movements toward the flames, which then began to hiss and burn brighter. Many in the room perceived this to be a result of his having connected with the fire or its spirit, and it was in that moment that he announced that spirits had arrived. While my positioning made it difficult to observe what was really happening, the event’s effect on the others in the room was a palpable energy of anticipation for what was about to come.

The initial persona that the painter took on, or spirit that he channeled, confronted the fear of uncertainty and the unknown that emanated from the others with softly and slowly uttered revealing comments. Then, after a period of making these comments and having them shut out by the other shaman and his friends, this sage-like persona was replaced by an antagonistic one that took pleasure in evoking fear and emitted a diabolical laugh. While many of the others shook with fear, I continued to feel at ease watching, aware that this persona was feeding off of the fear each held of himself. It was somewhat reassuring that when this persona made a very deep and prolonged eye contact with me, after having tormented each other member of the ceremony who stood in a line praying, it simply turned away in an expressionless silence. The others seemed terrified of letting go of what their “masters” had taught them; terrified of an experience that they had not learned about. A fear that quickly converted them back into good Catholic boys who shouted out Christ’s name, asking for the sword of Gabriel in an effort to exorcise the antagonizing persona channeled through the painter who they feared was Satan. Their shamanistic practices reminded me of a childhood game of capture the flag, when I would venture across the dividing line with confidence until someone from the other team got close enough to tag me, at which point I ran like hell back to the safety of my side.

Having abandoned my own San Pedro experience, I took to trying to help the painter and the spirits that spoke through him to open the eyes of these other people who seemed so out of place in a shamanic event. At one point I had to hold the hand of one man, consoling him with less antagonistic reiterations or interpretations of what the persona in control of the painter was trying to convey by force. During my colleague’s possession by the antagonistic spirit, the other shaman claimed that the energy of this persona had crushed his hand, a complaint that continued throughout the night (and next day) and instigated a stronger assault by the spirit when asked to cure the injury. I later was told by the painter, who said he was only able to watch as a bystander as the spirit controlled his body, that the “antagonistic” persona was a jaguar spirit. I saw the other shaman’s complaint as incredibly symbolic as the shaman continued to refuse to let go of control over his own experience and that of his friends and since the antagonism of the painter’s persona was indeed meant to force him to let go.

Eventually the sun rose and the ceremony was ended by the then bitter shaman without having completed the fourth stage of rebirth, which now that I think about it was also quite symbolic. Disappointed in the night’s events we gathered our belongings in almost complete silence, but as things were carried out to the truck someone noticed the presence of an eagle, a very positive sign according to the beliefs of many indigenous groups. And sure enough, as if the nearest tree wasn’t close enough, there, perched on a stump, some 5 meters from us, next to the lodge, was a large and beautiful harpy eagle. At that we returned to the city with mixed feelings.

In analysis of this experience I would like to describe the process I observed of achieving a state of trance, which I found most interesting. As I said, we began a process of four cycles of reflection that represented the four stages of life, at the initiation of which we all snorted two spoonfuls of what I think was tobacco water. This moderately painful action had an immediate effect similar to that of breath control in meditation of bringing one’s thoughts into the present moment. The shaman and the painter then began to lead us in songs and chants. In some of these vocal projections I felt a reverberation in my chest, which may have been an effect of the combined deep tones of the chants and drum, the higher pitched mahhraca (not sure what it actually was, but this gets the idea across) and the San Pedro. These reverberations brought my attention inward and I gradually felt myself begin to drift from a state of rationality to pure sensory intake, similar to the Eastern idea of acceptance and elimination of analysis and judgment, which can be achieved blocking one’s specifically directed attention by expanding one’s focus to its fullest limits. Here I say I only began to drift off, because it was at this point that I noticed the building confrontation and took to pure observation.

I then watched as the painter began channeling his thoughts through the repetition of phrases and sounds that he associated with, for example, the fire. This appeared to have the effect of over stimulating, through excessive use, a specific neural circuit, effectively shutting it down through a process similar to the commonly studied stroop effect. This cerebral disabling might have allowed him to achieve what sociologist Max Weber would consider a “pure experience” with an idea or image, to which he then gave personality and voice. He uses the indigenous language of “spirit” and holds the belief that the spirit that speaks through him chooses to take power over him and exists outside of his person.

After a bit of reflection I’ve thought about three explanations for this state of possession. One being his explanation that these are separate, volition possessing entities, that take control over him. The second being that he himself achieves a pure experience of some idea or image and from his own subconscious gives it a persona. And three being that he forms a pure connection to a Jungian shared consciousness. The third would imply that these entities or spirits do in fact exist, but that their existence is in the shared consciousness of humanity. Although this third option my seem out of place to some who read this, his later descriptions of the existence of these deities as powerful, and fear inspiring at times, reminded me of a more generally held cultural perspective. Both the first and second of these explanations are supported by his speaking in tongues. In the first case, these languages evoke the infinite existence of the spirits separate from individual human experience, whereas in the second case, the avoidance of language use in verbal communication would allow for a “purer” connection, uncorrupted by subjection to Spanish or English grammatical rules or by the word association of listeners. I will add that after observing how one of the others achieved a similar state of trance during the night, taking on a persona that protected his friend, the shaman, by interfering with the artist’s verbal attack on his need for control and routine, that I’m inclined to believe the second explanation – that these trances are the act of creating a persona that conveys a deep subjective connection with a thought, sentiment, or idea. Then again, this claim should be qualified by adding that I this is a judgment based on a single experience.

Tagged by Xorkoth
substancecode_sanpedro
substancecode_trichocereuspachanoi
substancecode_mescaline
substancecode_phenethylamines
explevel_firsttime
exptype_positive
exptype_spiritual
roacode_oral

 

[azzazza !?]

This cerebral disabling might have allowed him to achieve what sociologist Max Weber would consider a “pure experience” with an idea or image, to which he then gave personality and voice. He uses the indigenous language of “spirit” and holds the belief that the spirit that speaks through him chooses to take power over him and exists outside of his person.

After a bit of reflection I’ve thought about three explanations for this state of possession. One being his explanation that these are separate, volition possessing entities, that take control over him. The second being that he himself achieves a pure experience of some idea or image and from his own subconscious gives it a persona. And three being that he forms a pure connection to a Jungian shared consciousness. The third would imply that these entities or spirits do in fact exist, but that their existence is in the shared consciousness of humanity.

i thoroughly enjoyed this report. i would like to point out that the second and third explanation are not mutually exclusive. in fact, they are rather closely related. ideas encompass more that the individual, who is merely a 'locus' of it; giving a more or less candid expression to it. the idea (or image) itself is formed by means of symbols/language which are a priory a 'shared consciousness'. the individual expression of it at any given time never encompasses the idea in its fullness (as someone else can intrepret it quite differently, challenge the first expression, and in dialectical discussion come to a new expression of it). an idea is not property of the individual, the expression of it, however, is. an idea is always a spirit, it is aimed at creating,moving communities, in fact, many times it is the community (those we call 'values')

 

[Dondante]

Interesting points.

My understanding of Jung's shared consciousness is that it is not an external reservoir to be tapped into, rather it is a stratum of our own consciousness. I'll ask him about this, but I think the distinction he was trying to make was the source of the channeled spirit, personal unconscious vs. collective unconscious, but I agree that they're not mutually exclusive. Would it be fair to say that an individual's expression of an idea is commonly influenced by both?

I particularly like your last sentence. Thanks for the insightful comments.

 

[psood0nym]

That's the most believable story about plant spirits I've ever read. The report reads like a travelogue from an anthropologist--my respect to your brother. Being around people like that far from home is always memorable, and eye opening in its own way. I hope it didn't turn him off of psychedelics completely. We need more like him.

 

[azzazza !?]

im not really going directly Jungian here (at which im no expert) although not against either, but to continue on the symbol: it is at once external yet does not exist without the internal. the external an sich ('as it is by itself') is inaccesable. there is only a referrant of a symbol by means of an individual consciousness. take for instance the word cat. as a toddler you learn: "this is a 'cat'". here only one instance of the symbol exists. this is however not the idea "cat"; it is "a cat". after seeing multiple instances of cat, one begins to make abstractions of the singular cats into essential (4 legs, tail, type of eyes etc) and accidental properties (color, lenght of hair). these essential properties make up the idea. there is however no such "a cat", because it is an essential property to have accidental ones in existence. thus: the idea "cat" is a non-being by itself. it only becomes what it is through instances of it. so without a consciousness expressing (albeit maybe vaguely) "a cat" there is no idea "cat". all the cats in the world 'point' to the idea "cat" but this is a 'nothing' by itself (ie. without cats). you could call this idea an sich 'the spirit of cat' (or: a perfect idea in Gods perfect mind)

apply this to unconsciousness: collective unconsciousness being the idea, personal an instance. i'd venture to say there is no real differentiation between personal and collective unconscioussness apart from level(s) of abstraction. each level points back and forth to the other. one could go up generalizing from an instance (you) to a family to community to religion and finally the all-encompassing collective unconsciousness which would be the mind of God. but this last one is qualitativly different, beyond imaginable existence.

to answer your question: yes and no. the idea itself cannot be expressed. nor can the personal instance of it. but there is no such thing as a strictly personal unconsciousness. there is only the relation of the ego to existence or the levels of shared consciousness. these relations themselves gradually become unconscious, beginning at birth. but then these levels have a history of relation among themselves, which is the shared unconscious. but this is taking us too far.
anyway, the moment of instance is ones counsciousness of the idea. then there is the moment of expression of this, which is mediated by means of symbols (these can vary widely from bodily poses, language, imagery,...) which make use of the shared consciousness (language, culture) to come to a new instance of it in another consciousness, which is however different. the 'spirit' is located in the in-between, which may be (mostly) conscious or (mostly) unconscious (its always a mixture of both). the true origin of spirit however is both the individuals conscious instance of it and the ultimate conscious unconsciousness, which is what an 'an sich' idea is (-> ideal -> Idea. go Plato!) im afraid that won't be too clear, but try to keep my cat example in mind when going trough it. (the unconscious is here the abstracted amalgam of all your encounters with cats which will be activated by means of association upon your next encounter with one. the idea is that vague amalgamated collection and as such an 'unconscious consciousness'. you may see a cat and say feel a subsequent fear, though you don't immediatly remember why at the time. now you can go about digging for the reason why in your subconsciousness, that is if you can access the memory emotionally. it gets so much more complex once one involves emotion (=relation) because that is where it truly becomes un-conscious)

im going to stop here for no apparent reason at all since i can go on and on and on otherwise

 

[azzazza !?]

i love reading anthropologists reports on this subject. they have this candid way of describing the things that happen, while never being personally invasive in the description relationally. yet they offer you an insight into personal rationale afterwards (which i found very thought-inspiring). the reader feels like he is himself there observing the whole thing happening. i'd happily mistake your brother for an experienced anthropologist props!

 

[tBirdee]

Awesome read man.

 

[nickels]

Interesting read, thanks