A Shamanic Herbal

Matthew Wood

Contents

Introduction: Journey in Unknown Lands

1 Shamanism from Siberia to Los Angeles

2 Spirit and Medicine

3 The Shaman’s Explanation

4 Preparations for the Journey

Bear Medicine

Angelica

Lomatium

Oshá Root

5 Don Juan’s “Island of the Tonal”

Wolf Medicine

Agrimony

Cinquefoil

Solomon’s Seal

Werewolf Root

Swallow Medicine

Celandine

Horse Medicine

St. John’s Wort

Centaury

Horse Chestnut

Warrior Medicine

Yarrow

Schizandra

Oak

6 School for Shamans

Alligator Medicine

Teasel

Snake Medicine

Black Cohosh

Trickster Medicine

Poison Ivy

Lizard Medicine

Turtle Medicine

Gravel Root

Goldenrod

Lady’s Mantle

7 The Animal Self

Badger Medicine

Goldenseal

Gentian

Dragon Gallbladder Root

Yellow Dock Root

Dog Medicine

Black Hoarhound

Wood Betony

Bryonia

Black Bird Medicine

8 The Spirit Self

Eagle Medicine

Pine

White Pine

Sun Medicine

Rosemary

Angelica

Calendula

Sunflower

Moon Medicine

Mugwort

Cloud Medicine

Pulsatilla

Prairie Smoke

Smoke Medicine

Mullein

Wormwood

Ghost Pipe

Tobacco

9 Glimpses of the Spirit World

Crane Medicine

Wild Geranium

Herb Robert

Underwater Panther Medicine

Jack-in-the-Pulpit

White Water-lily

Dragon Medicine

Dragon Root

Tarragon

Faery Medicine

Elder

Rabbit Tobacco

Bat Medicine

Holly

Earthkeeper Medicine

California Bay Laurel

References

Index

I dedicate this book to my late dear friend Susan Yerigan,

with whom I studied and experienced lessons on the

Medicine Path for thirty-five years. INTRODUCTION

Journey in Unknown Lands

None by traveling over known lands can find out the

unknown. WILLIAM BLAKE, ALL RELIGIONS ARE ONE

This is a book about spiritual growth. The primary spiritual path I know

through personal experience is the one called “shamanism.” This is based

on the actualization and merger of the human self with the animal self,

resulting in the coming-to-consciousness of the dream self or individual

spirit. A shaman is anyone of any culture who experiences their animal self

as a being as complete and important as their conscious or human self. This

is why the universal symbol of the shaman is the half-animal and half-

human pictograph. From the warm-blooded animals we gain our heart—mammals take care

of their young, partner, and form communities—and the ability to dream. Reptiles don’t emotionally bond or dream; from them we gain our raw

survival and reproductive instincts. Our physical body takes after a

particular animal so that our traits resemble that animal. Our physical

appearance, instincts, and approach to life resemble our animal—Bear,

Wolf, Deer, Rabbit, Crow, Owl, Hawk. Even in rather ordinary

conversations we characterize people by their resemblance to animals. A lot of people even identify with an animal, but the crucial shift occurs when the

human self recognizes its co-walker animal self in dreamtime. In his seminal work on shamanism, cultural historian Mircea Eliade

noted (1964, 94): “In a considerable number of myths and legends all over

the world the hero is carried into the beyond by an animal.” This can be a

real event and it always does occur in alternate reality or the depths of

dreamtime. In conventional society, alternate reality is looked upon as

Legend; dreamtime as a weak alternative to normal reality. This book

wasn’t written for people with those belief systems. The animal self erupts

into our world through dreamtime, from an untrodden internal wilderness. Modern religion, East and West, does not generally address the animal

self. This aspect of our psyche is largely ignored in the modern

interpretation of life in the Abrahamic religions of the West and the

transcendental religions of the East—with some exceptions. Ironically, the

story of Abraham himself centers on the actualization of his Ram animal

self on Moriah—mountain of “vision and provision.” The actualization of

the animal self is addressed in the authentic occult traditions of the West. This is the surviving shamanic tradition in the dominant society. According to the testimony of the shamans, dreamtime and the Spirit

World are the same—the place of “vision and provision” in the story of

Abraham. The development of spiritual life requires the actualization of the

animal self, which otherwise actually serves as the teeth-bared guardian of

that world—waiting for the time to arrive when we are integrated and

developed enough to survive the jolt into the hyperspace of the Spirit

World. Sense comes from the animal world, whether it be on the physical or

spiritual plane. This is also a book about the medicinal plants that can help us in our

spiritual life or shamanic journey. Because shamans work with the Forces

of Nature, these plants usually are linked to such a force. “When a plant

looks like an animal or is used by an animal,” it is linked to that animal,

which represents one of the Forces of Nature: “that is called a spirit

signature and those plants are stronger than the others.”* Like the warm-

blooded animals themselves, these plants possess an innate link to the Spirit

World. Animism A necessary foundation for the shamanic perspective is the experience of

Nature as a living, conscious being. This is called animism in anthropology

and is a characteristic of nearly all Indigenous and premodern societies. It

was the common experience or belief in Western culture until the rise of the

modern scientific paradigm in the seventeenth century and it has not

completely died out among people in that culture, though their thoughts and

feelings about this are not held in respect; one is “not supposed to think that

way.”

The word anima derives from the Latin, meaning “wind, air, a current of

air; breath; the vital principle, life, or soul.” Because of the connection to

life, it also is the root of the words “animal” and “animated.” The term for

the “Living Nature” or “World Soul” in Latin was—still is—anima mundi. In The Death of Nature (1980), historian of science Carolyn Merchant

traces the transition from a living to a dead Nature in Western culture,

showing that this occurred in the seventeenth century, and was due to the

rise of the scientific paradigm. It was strongly resisted by the Churches—

Catholic and Protestant. The traditional geocentric cosmology, which ruled supreme until

Galileo, was innately animist because it placed the Earth at the center of a

series of influential entities identified with the planets and stars. Earth was

alive, receiving the influence of these celestial bodies, and we, her

inhabitants, were subject to these fluctuating influences. The seven planets

were identical to the seven principal gods of the ancient pagans. Their

influences were not diminished, but they were no longer to be worshipped

or looked upon as rivals of the Supreme Being. The cosmology of the geocentric Earth included the four elements:

earth, water, air, and fire. These are identical to the three states of chemical

matter (solid, liquid, gas) and the combustible state. The word elementum is

a Latin term referring to the four elements specifically; only later was it

identified with the elements of Mendeleev’s periodic table. One wishes

science would not redefine words used in a different manner in an earlier

time period but introduce new terms. In the premodern perspective, the four elements are not simply material,

like the states of chemical matter, but living. According to the usual

definition, the fire element corresponds to consciousness, air to intelligence

(including animal intelligence), water to vitality or life itself, and earth to

the mineral state, which corresponds to existence itself. The four elements in this regard also correspond to the four kingdoms of Nature: human

(conscious, ensouled), animal (intelligent), plant (vital), and mineral

(material).

According to another layout, fire represents the animal, characterized by

movement and related to the fact that animals are personifications of the

Forces of Nature. From this perspective, air represents the human,

analytical principle and the self-consciousness associated with it. The anima

mundi embraces all these attributes and consequently it is conscious, vital,

ensouled, and intelligent. The Soul World is controlled by the “laws of Nature” and even the “law

of karma.” All humans are bound together in that world, so that if we hurt

another it comes back upon us. This extends down the evolutionary scale,

so to speak. In an animist world we can disturb or hurt animals, plants, and

maybe even minerals. If we have a good heart we would not want to hurt

anyone and we would not want to hurt the Living Nature. If we have a nasty

heart, we are going to find that the hurt is going to come back upon us and

we are going to have to experience it as fully as did our victim before us—

because all is continuous in that world; there are no walls of separation. This may not happen until after death, when the wall between us and the

world around us will dissolve. All that is necessary to enter and live in the

animist world, therefore, is an open heart and the self-responsibility to face

any karma we have generated. If Nature is alive, then how can we feel anything but love and respect

for our Mother, the Living Nature?

We would want to include her in our

major decisions about life—individually, socially, ethically,

environmentally. We would want her permission before undertaking

ventures that would markedly influence the lineaments of that world. This is

part of the American Indian perspective: we need to ask permission of Earth

before undertaking large enterprises. I call her “Earth” because she is a

being; not “the earth.” The usual expression is “Mother Earth,” without

“the,” showing that even in conventional speech she is still treated like a

living being!

I also capitalize the names of plants and animals because I

want them to be considered “people,” comparable to ourselves. The Living Nature is also the Soul World, the natural home of the

individual soul. It is a dimension of mutual feeling or empathetic

connectedness. Tradition is very clear in identifying our three parts: body,

soul, and spirit. The soul is not the physical body and not the individual spirit or essential self, but a being of heart and feelings. Through the body,

the soul is associated with mortality; through the spirit, it touches

immortality. The existence of this world was at one time self-evident. I would

maintain that it is still self-evident to the soul, but Western people train

themselves not to feel or believe in it. From the research of my late friend

Susan Yerigan and myself, we believe this awareness of the Soul World as a

whole would normally be a natural realization that occurs as childhood

draws to an end, just before puberty. This is when the individual soul is

becoming self-aware—of itself and the World Soul. Both of us remember

experiencing the realization that “Nature is alive” when we were about

eleven. The Snow Queen by Hans Christian Andersen is a fairy tale about this

moment of challenge and change in human life. Little Kai and Gerda are

fast childhood friends, but a hobgoblin makes a mirror in which everything

is seen with a jaundiced and cynical eye. He and his associates take the

mirror up into the sky to look at the angels, but the higher they go and the

more they laugh, the more it shakes until it falls and shatters. Tiny bits and

pieces blow all over the world, into people’s eyes and hearts. One falls into

the eye of Kai and he is taken away by the Snow Queen to the land of snow

and ice. Little Gerda has to follow him there and remove the fleck before

they can be returned to friendship. The Wisdom of Nature

The Soul World touches us primarily in two ways: one through love and the

other through wisdom. We have already discussed the empathic, soul, or

heart connection, but not the special kind of wisdom associated with this

world. There are two kinds of wisdom. One is derived from living a good-

hearted, successful life. With time we learn how to be a better person,

coming from the heart—also to remove ourselves from a situation where

our heart would be vulnerable or even where our soul could be damaged. We might call this the “wisdom of life.”

The other kind of wisdom derives from observing and learning about

the underlying patterns or archetypes of Nature in all her myriad

expressions and forms, independent of the issues of soul and heart. Within the forests and fields of Nature we see the animals, who themselves

represent the Forces of Nature, and the plants, representing archetypal

powers and medicines. Looking up into the heavens, we see the stars and

planets, which represent the primal movers and forces of the cosmos. Through the “doctrine of correspondence” there is a relationship between

the above and the below, so that what happens in the heavens is reflected on

earth. Others say that the celestial bodies emanate little rays, or perhaps

harmonious songs, that control our lives here on Earth. I used to think the

idea that there were little rays emanating from the planets was tedious and

ridiculous—silly me, later I found out that this kind of relationship also

exists. We do not need to know anything about the astrological powers or the

singing of the spheres to accumulate this kind of knowledge. It can be

known directly through the plants, animals, and minerals. The traditional

name for it in Western philosophy and theology is the “Wisdom of Nature,”

or natura sophia. Sophia was the old Greek name for wisdom and—fortunately for

Western peoples, both as Jews and Christians—she was not looked upon as

a goddess but more as a type, emblem, or symbol, like the Statue of Liberty. Wisdom was highly valued in Greek, Jewish, and non-Jewish Middle

Eastern spirituality, and later in the Abrahamic religions that descended

from the search for wisdom—Christianity, Judaism, and Islam. In the

Septaguint, the earliest Greek translation of the Tanahk, the Hebrew Bible,

the word sophia was used to translate the Hebrew chokmah, “wisdom.”

Chokmah/Sophia came to be personified in the Wisdom Books of the

Hebrew Bible; for example, in the Book of Proverbs (9:1) it is said that her

temple has seven pillars. The prophet Jeremiah complained about the

worship of the Queen of Heaven before the fall of Jerusalem in 597 BCE. Sophia, the North American Star Woman, and the Queen of Heaven are

variations on the same theme of archetypal wisdom or Nature Wisdom. Sophia was therefore highly esteemed among the pagan Greeks, Jews,

early Christians, and other people of the Mediterranean and Near East. Eventually, she was identified with theological wisdom as well. Finally, the

Christian Roman Emperors named their central cathedral in Constantinople

for her: the Hagia Sophia. Down through the centuries, the relationship of

Sophia to the Christian Trinity remained somewhat uncertain, however, and

she is still somewhat mistrusted—where she is known at all. A remarkable fictional account of Sophia—considering that the theology is closer to that

of modern Evangelical Christianity—was penned by William P. Young in

The Shack (2007).

Here she represents wisdom gained from life experience. Before this constellation of associations crystallized, there were earlier

“incarnations” of Sophia, some of which had an influence on her Judeo-

Christian persona. The visible representation in our world of the archetypal

realm is the starry sky. This was personified as the Egyptian goddess Neith,

stretched across the sky with the stars in her body. Athena was a version of

Neith adopted by the Greek city, according to her early historians. Athena is

certainly a goddess of wisdom. Meanwhile, some characteristics of Neith

were incorporated into the emerging goddess Isis. She was associated with

the hidden soul of Nature, for which reason she was shown as veiled—a

characteristic later picked up by Sophia. There are also analogies between

Sophia and Hathor, Queen of the Heavens, but the latter is not veiled. Indeed, Neith is pictured as naked, stretched across the sky, her body

covered with the stars. We can see quite clearly the analogy between Sophia and the North

American Star Woman. In Native America it is said that Star Woman

descended from above—the birds of the air circling around her as she

descended—until her foot landed on the back of Grandfather Turtle. The

little water creatures were bringing up bits of mud to create the earth on the

back of Turtle. When Star Woman stepped upon this inchoate surface, she

impressed her stars or archetypes on it to make the individual types of the

mineral, plant, animal, and human worlds. I refer to “Grandfather Turtle” because that is how he introduced

himself to me—see the account related to Gravel Root (chap. 6).

My friend

Sondra Boyd, a Tsalagi (Cherokee) medicine woman, preferred the term

“First Turtle” or “Original Turtle,” not liking to sex a primal being. However, I decided to go with the vision that was presented to me; it was

powerful and engraved upon my soul. Since Star Woman impressed her essences upon Grandfather Turtle he

has been, forever afterward, associated with the Wisdom of Nature because

he is the receptacle of the archetypes comprising Mother Nature. It is this

knowledge that is the basis of the Language of Nature, the School of

Nature, the Green Tongue, or Shamanic Speech. Turtle is the main stem

from which the mammalian life-wave arose out of the reptilian, according

to evolutionary biologists. Turtle is rightly be seen as the foundation of our world—in mythology, Earth is pictured supported on the back of an

enormous Turtle. Because Nature is directed by the forces of creation, following

archetypal lines of expression and cosmic law, she is amenable to our

understanding—especially through the intuition, the faculty that perceives

patterns and wholes. Intuitive thinking was the basis for the development of

the geocentric model of the four elements of Mother Earth. This is a

beautiful and harmonious method of thinking and knowing that makes our

sojourn in Mother Nature an even more enjoyable experience. The Wisdom of Nature is extremely important for generating common

concepts and terminology for discussion of experiences along the road of

shamanism—or any spiritual path, for that matter—because there is no way

to describe the spiritual world except by analogy. This is why Jesus

continually spoke in parables and analogies about the “kingdom of heaven”;

there was no way to describe his spiritual experience in ordinary language. Ironically, his followers don’t get why this is the case and insist upon using

ordinary speech to persuade themselves that they understand the alternative

reality he was describing. Jesus used similes and contrasts from peasant life,

because this was his milieu, rather than the animals and plants of Nature. But all of this constitutes the “Language of Nature” and the “Speech of

Nature,” and it is important to learn to think by analogy, inference, and

contrast, instead of in rational, materialistic terms. The ability to speak this

way was traditionally associated with the expression of the spirit. Wisdom is encoded into every leaf and stone, paw and footprint. It is

also found in what Eliade called “myths and legends.” On this path we have

many stories that inspire us, while others cannot be understood until we

have experienced the inner reality conveyed by the story. Still others simply

amuse us on what can so often be thought of as a long and dreary path. These are traditionally called “shaman stories.” Nature is constructed to

make us more complete, well-rounded individuals, both in this world and in

the world to come. This Earth Wisdom, built into the fabric of the Living

Nature, is an important part of the journey. The Old, Old Path The path of the shaman takes us beyond our “native dimension.” It is not a

comfortable path and it is not for everyone. It is available only to those who

have the calling. If you are reading this book, you have had the calling. If

you hadn’t, you’d find this book unbelievable or boring. Once I saw the shaman’s path in the forest—there were leaves covering

it, several years deep. It was barely discernible. A voice said, “That’s the

Old, Old Path that almost nobody follows today.”

The shamanic path implies the existence of a world different from the

one everybody is used to. It can only be described by parable, inference,

and comparison. We look down and see the faint markings of the trail on the

surface of Earth and from Earth we learn to see the mysteries in the heavens

above. So there are actually three worlds: above, middle, and lower. J. R. R. Tolkien revived the archaic term “Middle Earth” for the world we live in,

between the Heavenly and the Underworld or Netherworld. In 1648 the

alchemist Thomas Vaughan wrote (1968, 52):

Your fate is written by an unseen hand,

But his Three Books with the Three Worlds shall stand. The Soul World is always close to us but the Spirit World is far away. It

is available to us only through dreamtime or other types of alternative

reality, so it is effectively an unknown and unseen world. This is why the

universal experience of the spiritual voyageur at the moment of the birth of

the spirit self is the perception of total darkness, representing the sensory

non-awareness we had in the Spirit World previous to that time. Don Juan

called it the “black world” or “netherworld” (Castaneda 1985, 293; 1993,

45).

The ancient Maya called it the “Black Dreaming Place” (Gillette 1997,

40).

When Castaneda had his first vision of the “black world,” don Juan

commented that this was the first time he had actually moved over from

normal human perception to alternate reality (1985, 293).

And that was after

years of hallucinations on drugs and elaborate shamanic training. Castaneda

was a sort of “Everyman of Western Culture” and a burden of disbelief

weighed heavily upon him. But he opened a door. The Whispering of the Spirit The spirit is that which knows the truth. It is, therefore, the ground and

guarantor of truth. When we know truth, our individual spirit is active. This

level of experience occurs much less frequently than body and soul

awareness. It is therefore something we should welcome on the rare

opportunities we have to experience it. What is spirit?

Are we talking about our own individual spirit?

The

spirit that moves the entire universe?

The divine spirit?

The spirit land,

where “the spirits” live?

The spirit of an animal or plant?

Ultimately, if we

are honest with ourselves, we have to admit that spirit is a mystery we don’t

know. The Native American words for spirit, like manitou or wakan, mean

both “mystery” and “spirit” at once. Even the Bible (John 3:8) agrees:

The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you

cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with

everyone born of the Spirit. Unlike the translators of the Bible, I don’t capitalize the word “spirit”

myself. It is hard to define anything that pertains to the spirit; the difference

between the universal spirit and the individual is not well defined in most

languages and cultures. It is traditional to capitalize Soul World but not

soul, so I also capitalize “Spirit World” because it is a place—but that is the

exception to my choice. The spirit has been present with us from the moment of our birth, trying

to steer our life in a positive direction. However, we are born so far from the

spirit that we hardly notice or hear the little voice. It takes courage to follow

what it says because it opposes the entropy of self-centered human culture. Any time we do experience and stand up for inner truth, the spirit has won a

battle and we inch toward the day when we will be hardwired into the Spirit

World. The spirit has always cared for the human heart/soul. The moment we

recognize the existence of the Soul World, we also become aware of the

spirit. Why?

Because that is a moment of truth. We have to believe in the

reality of the Soul World; if we don’t, we destroy our connection to soul,

spirit, and truth. But that is only the beginning of the path. Until a full

commitment is made, the soul is easily misled and confused, so the spirit

cannot consider the soul to be a reliable partner or recipient of its message. It sends its messages, but poor little soul does not know what to make of

these smoke signals and often dismisses them as mere opinions. The spirit is always whispering to us and this whisper is like a constant

IV drip telling us what would be good to do if we want to walk the good

path and lead a good life. All this arrives in terms of the inner knowing of

truth because that is the only language the spirit speaks. Basically, inner

truth is not a language many people speak. I use the simile of an IV drip because it is like we are stuck in triage in a

spiritual hospital, virtually unconscious, on a drip line that’s keeping us

spiritually alive. We are just barely conscious of the spiritual voice. The IV

drip is like the trail of breadcrumbs Hansel and Gretel followed in the

woods. Once we are aware of it and dedicated to it, we are driven along it to

survive. If we turn around or wander away, we’ll end up cooked in the

witch’s oven. All human beings have the opportunity to hear and respond to the

whisper. Not all do, but it is with us throughout life, giving us guidance. It

is not an easy job to follow that voice: we human souls are innately simple,

naive, gullible, wavering, and uncertain. Another characteristic of the spirit is freedom. It hates bondage. That’s

why we are so far from it. We are creatures of bondage: to falsehood,

delusion, egotism, power, fear, and biological imperatives. The spirit never

tries to force the soul to accept the truth or itself. That would end free will

and be a form of abuse. Instead, the spirit conspires to set up situations

where the person can only choose inner truth. Usually, a person’s back is

against the wall when he or she has to make the decision to join his or her

will to the spirit. Although the spirit respects the free will of the individual completely, it

wants us to surrender that free will totally. We might think this means the

spirit wants us to be its slave. Actually, that path doesn’t really work. If we

slavishly follow the spirit, we will suffer deprivation of our personal,

soulful desires and lose the instinct to enjoy life and love. We will not want

to live. Therefore, there has to be a bargaining—and even a fighting—for

personal needs, in which the individual soul justifies its personal desires

and learns that the spirit will tolerate enough independence to make life

enjoyable. Following this procedure, we become the partner and co-creator

with the spirit, combining our funny little human foibles and desires with the most powerful force in the universe. The combination of the spiritual

will with the personal will and the imagination is the origin of magic. The whispering of the spirit is suited to life in time and space. It shows

us that we are watched over, taken care of, and able to actualize our lives

while we remain fully immersed in our native dimension. It leads to a

unification of the personal spirit with the soul. Rudolf Steiner called this

amalgamation the “soul-and-spirit,” while Carl Jung named it the “Self.”

This combination is the basis for what is usually meant by “spirituality” and

“spiritual life” in Western culture. Whether beyond us or within us, the

spirit continues to roam free, unhindered by “our dimension,” because the

spirit is otherworldly by nature. The Land of the Dead

The Christian West habitually confuses the Underworld with hell. In the

Hebrew Bible, Sheol is the abode of the dead, translated into Greek as

Hades. This is a place of life-unmaking, not necessarily of punishment. By

comparison, Gehenna is the place of punishment in the Hebrew Bible,

rabbinical literature, and the sayings of Jesus. The King James Version

(KJV) of the Bible incorrectly translates both Sheol and Gehenna as “hell,”

showing that it is indeed a “version” and not an accurate translation. So the

shaman has been tarred and feathered with the sooty pigment of the Devil. After we die, the Lords of Death grab hold of us and we are forced to

confront our deeds, fears, and accomplishments. The Underworld is

therefore a place of purification for the soul, not a pit of damnation. If we

don’t want to cooperate with the creation and Creator, or the other

inhabitants of the Soul World, we are given the opportunity to become an

eternal being living in self-awareness cut off from the All-Life. Then we are

exiled to the Outer Darkness. This constitutes an act of grace on the part of

Creator, because otherwise the individual soul would have to be dissolved

into nothingness. The grace is that the ego can continue to exist, even

though it is cut off from the Soul World and the Spirit World. This is the

path of the hungry ghost, always craving something it cannot have. In the Underworld the Lords of Death hold us until we give up

struggling and accept who we are and what we have done. There is no pity

to be found in the process of uncovering the truth. Don Juan called this the “place of no pity.” It is a hard road and the one we are on at first, as a

shaman’s apprentice or a dead person walking the paths of Hades. As we let

go of our baggage and are attracted to a positive spiritual momentum, we

spend less and less time in the place of no pity. In his commentaries on Castaneda, Théun Mares (1998) notes that if we

don’t yet have true spiritual seership or awareness in dreamtime, then we

can use the place of no pity to reveal truth and make fundamental changes. This is because the place of no pity is associated with dying, while vision

and dream come directly from spiritual life. There is some reason why the Underworld is mistaken for hell, and the

Lord of the Underworld for the Devil. It is not just an overly zealous

Christian moralism. In order to reach the Spirit World, we need to meet and

pass the Guardian of the Threshold. This being is the personification of all

that we fear. It is our personal Devil, forged in the depths of our

unconscious, composed of all the things we fear or have been programmed

to believe are bad. It takes years to save up enough energy and courage to

face this entity. Then we find that it is not really the Devil after all. Jung

(who had read of the Guardian in occult literature) called it the “shadow.”

The shadow is the opposite of Freud’s “superego,” which is the

projection of all that we think of as good. In our naivete, we only perceive

our projections of the Devil and God and mistake them for the “real guys.”

If you seek Creator this side of the veil of dream and the land of legend, you

will be disappointed. The Spirit World has two faces. The first one is the dark world, presided

over by the Lord of the Underworld. That is the world we see as we

approach. This is because we are so filled with the darkness of the world we

came from that we cannot see anything else. That darkness is the part of us

that must die in the great life-unmaking in order to experience the light of

the Spirit World. There is no one better suited to bring that darkness to our

attention than the Lord of the Underworld. That is his job. He manifests the

darkness within us, forces us to confront it, and—if it is delusory—he and

his servants break the darkness down into raw, undifferentiated “soul stuff”

that can be recycled. However, those parts of our soul that are conjoined

with the spirit pass the great threshing floor of death and remain part of the

eternal self we are building. The Lord of the Underworld is also known as the Keeper of the Animals

or the Lord of the Hunt. He is the master of the Forces of Nature, which are embodied in the animals; therefore of the ultimate spiritual genomes,

totems, or species of the Animal Kingdom. Each type of animal represents a

force of Nature. We have to learn to assimilate the animal power inside of

us in order to be complete beings. We have to understand it, adopt it, and

incarnate it without egoic attachment or rejection. We also have to

assimilate the human, which is no less complicated. In the old days, while people still felt his presence, the hunter prayed to

the Lord of the Hunt for game. Right now, when the socioeconomic

underpinning of the world is in disarray, in this period of transition, he is

more active. All who are not doing their spiritual work, not confronting the

darkness within them, have an unwilling appointment with the Lord of the

Hunt. In near-death experiences, many people report that they see their lives

flash before them. That is the beginning of the “recapitulation” of life-

experience that occurs after death. They also report a light, but they will

eventually meet the total darkness of the Underworld and be subject to that

total darkness, alone, until every fear and content comes to the surface. The

path of the shaman is to recapitulate while still in the body and to meet the

total darkness of the Lord of the Underworld. These pages harbor several

accounts of that meeting. The Faery Realm

The dark face of the Underworld is what we see when we approach the

Spirit World. The light face is what we see on the other side of the darkness. This is the realm of the consort of the Lord of the Underworld, the Faery

Queen. Now we see a new light; the faeries are sometimes called “the

Shining Ones.” Don Juan called them the “inorganic beings,” while

anthropologist Timothy Knab’s shamanic mentors referred to them as

“those who are not our brothers.” Susan described them as the “tumblers”—

the all-possible-combinations-of-existence that fall into place whenever

anything in the manifest universe is created. This may be a realm of light

but it is even less safe than where we were in the darkness. Folklore points out several reasons why it is dangerous to go into the

faery realm. The first one is that the tumblers are always moving. Therefore, the doorway into that world is never the same as it was the

moment we came in. It is, therefore, easier to get caught in that world than to emerge from it intact. That is the basis of the ancient taboos about going

to the Faery Realm. This is a danger that never goes away until we reach a

kind of peace with that world. This too occurs in alternate reality or

dreamtime. When we dream of the March of the Faeries or the Faery

Throne Room, or some presentation of the tumblers falling into order, we

are free from this spiritual tornado power sucking at us. A second danger is that the tumblers can perceive our deepest needs and

wishes because they are in fact the instruments that created them in the first

place. We could call their dominion “the world where all-wishes-come-

true.” This is why they unashamedly cater to us, as don Juan said. By

accepting gifts that cater to our weaknesses, they gain power over us and

we can’t leave their dominion. We want to accept the gifts that are good and

appropriate for us. From our perspective, it seems as if the faeries want to offer us a gift—

this is a universal folk tale, which is reflected in sources ranging from

traditional folk ballads to Carlos Castaneda. The gift is so well chosen, so

suited to our personal—even our spiritual—needs that it is impossible to

reject unless we have both spiritual perception of the truth and enough

stamina to resist for long enough. If we can’t resist this Siren’s Song, we

will be drawn in, defeated on our journey for spiritual wholeness. There are some who desire the crazy ride the tumblers provide and they

are fulfilled, rather than defeated—the adventure shamans. The unprepared

and the weak, the accidental tourists, will be caught in confusion. It is said

they will live there in the Faery Realm until the end of time. And yet others

will carry on, knowing they missed the boat, but doing their best until the

leveling field of death can free them from the situation. It is a risk to make

any kind of agreement in that world until after we have experienced the

tumblers become orderly. One of my friends experienced a faery being connect to his heart. He

found it very disturbing because of the inhuman, alien, unfamiliar vibe of

the consciousness. After attaching to him it said, “Would you like to go

back to the way you were before?” He answered, “Yes.” The being

responded by attaching itself to him permanently. In the faery realm there is

no time or space, so “before” doesn’t mean anything to them. He felt he had

“lost his soul.” He had not. It is not a sin to have “faery genes,” that is,

energy implantation from the tumblers. Nor is a true spiritual aspirant ever

lost, because he or she will persevere no matter what. The third problem with journeying to the Spirit World is that it is

innately impersonal and nonhuman, and therefore takes us away from our

heart, our humanity—the human totem, so to speak. One touch of the

faeries makes it harder to love and to be human. This lesson is told to us in

the lines of an old Irish ballad:

The short cut to the Rosses

The short cut to the Rosses

I’ll ne’er go that way again

Because the time I went that way

The faeries stole my heart

And I’ll never love again. Traditional ballads are a trove of shamanic knowledge. This particular

ballad is so totally true; you know that it is if you yourself have been

through the same ordeal. From the short cut to the Rosses onward, you are

going to have to fight to be a human. On the other hand, it is quite possible

to tread the Old, Old Path and not have an experience with the faeries that

has this side effect. Susan had never had this experience, but I have. We also realize on meeting the faeries for the first time that they are

omnipotent in their world and they could capture us or destroy us down to

the last atom of our identity (since they are determinants of identity).

This

causes us to have an existential fear of them. But we also gain an existential

confidence after we have met them. We now know that there is a different

world, that we are spiritual beings, that there is a spiritual purpose to life. One is genetically changed (genes are a lower-octave representation of the

tumblers).

But one leaves the ordinary world behind and cannot explain this

to anyone who has not had the experience. It is not because we have now

had experiences that sound too fantastic to be believed; it is because we

have had the experience of a completely nonhuman, nonorganic type of

existence. Part of what reconnects us back to humanity is speech, and this is

why we should have been learning and practicing, up to now, the Speech of

Nature. Because the “genes” from the faeries are nonhuman, they change the

spiritual laws that govern interactions with people who have not had the

faery experience. It is “against the law” to try to force people to have these experiences. Forcefulness twists the participant. It is also not kosher to give

advice about human psychological situations because one does not share the

same perspective. If it sounds like I am describing how a person on the

autism spectrum deals with the world—well, that would be a good analogy. From the human psychiatric perspective, it may even be an explanation. Another group are the people who have had the experience, have

magical things to say, but do it in an inappropriate, forceful manner. This

means some sort of doubt or egoic expression adhered to them when they

tumbled in the other world. The thrashing around they engage in, trying to

convince us of this or that, is a sad state of affairs. The term for this is

“fallen initiate.” The fact is, however, that all of us require some time for

spiritual knowledge to “settle in,” and we all experience this state to some

degree or another. So we are all “fallen initiates.”

We must remember that our natural home is the Soul World. That is the

realm of the heart. We are beings of soul and anywhere else in the universe

we find ourselves is going to feel onerous because it is preventing us from

fulfilling our destiny as human beings. The faeries do not identify with individuality the way we do. They have

more of a hive mentality. They are the tumblers that click, not the click; we

are the click, the thing, the creature. Unfortunately, our culture has turned the tumblers into quaint fantasies. In reality, lucid dreaming can be shockingly powerful and we are on faery

turf when we are there, where they are omnipotent. We, on the other hand,

have no power other than that inculcated into our souls by our own spiritual

discipline, or lack thereof, so that when we meet them, we are prepared as

can be. We have no reference points for interaction with the Spirit World

other than shaman stories that we have internalized. I chronicled the seven

great shaman stories corresponding to the seven rungs on the shamanic

ladder in my book Seven Guideposts on the Spiritual Path: Shamanism in

Genesis (2021b).

The old folk ballads are another set of shaman stories. So

are traditional “fairy tales.” If we put in our homework, these kind of stories

will bubble up into dreamtime and we will have intense otherworldly

experiences. Just as the Lord of the Hunt is the ruler of the animals, the Queen is the

ruler of the plants. In this regard she is called the Green Woman—and she

often appears green or flowery. The English alchemist Thomas Vaughan

called her “Thalia” (ever-in-bloom).

Physical plants are related to the faery folk the same way physical

animals are related to the animal totems. The animals drag us to their

master, the Lord of the Underworld, which requires our death and

purification, but the plants (and not just the hallucinogens) can bring us

directly into the Spirit World without purification. They are inherently

dangerous. (Most of our modern drugs are made from venoms and plants

that have been synthesized: Snake + Plant + Human; the tree of the

knowledge of good and evil).

Therefore, plants must be approached with

care. The closer we are to our world, the more human the faeries appear to us,

but they are never fully human. On the other hand, the further we are into

their world, the more nonhuman they appear. Don Juan described them as

filaments of light. Since I can’t move my attention as far into their world as

he or Castaneda could, I have only once ever seen them this way and even

then my mind anthropomorphized them—the phrase “hair of the faeries”

came to my mind when I saw these filaments of light. The consciousness of the most ancient plants is more elemental,

reflecting stone, water, air, or warmth and light. With the advent of the

flowering plants, we enter a new world. Until that time, the insects were

minor participants in life, but all of a sudden they were needed as

pollinators for the flowers. In some art, the Faery Queen is shown clothed in

plant and insect parts. It is strange that these illustrations appear to depict

fantasies when in fact they reflect reality. The hivelike qualities of the Faery

World are reflected in the insect world. The Lord of the Animals is the darkness of sleep while the Lady is the

light of dreamtime. Blobs of unactualized psychological content deepen the

unconsciousness of our sleep, while freedom from these contents allows

greater consciousness in dreamtime. But sleep is a mixture of the two. The

Lady is symbolically represented by Mother Nature, while the Lord is

associated with the Underworld—sleep and death. Adam slept, while Eve

(“Life”) came into existence. For the ancient Mayans, the Lord of the Underworld was the paramount

spiritual being and ruler of the world. He was represented in their society by

the shaman king, whose animal representative was—still is—the Black

Jaguar. This cultural world extended north into the modern-day Four

Corners region of North America. According to Martine Prechtel, there are

three jaguars in the shaman stories of Central America: Black Jaguar, Flowery Jaguar, and the Tawny Panther. The latter is the one whose job it is

in the outer world to trim out the sick and injured animals. The journey beyond the Soul Realm into the Faery Spirit World is rough

and hard. As I sit and write, I am not writing an advertisement for a superior

or even inferior spiritual path, but merely chronicling the Old, Old Path. Also, we are transitioning into the fifth world and a lot of this shamanic

stuff will be part of the culture of the new Earth. Human Nature

It is important that we study everything we confront in the world—or

worlds—if we want to gain spiritual understanding. This includes human

nature itself. A lot of what we attribute to human nature is actually inherited

from the Animal Kingdom, particularly the warm-blooded crowd. The cold-

blooded animals do not sleep or dream and they don’t have an emotional

heart. They don’t take care of their young; they just dump the eggs and

leave. They don’t form lasting relationships and they don’t hunt in packs—

fortunately. The warm-blooded animals, on the other hand, take care of their

young. The earliest ones were the marsupials, whose pouch is a literal

representation of the warmth of true parenting. The mammals often form

partnerships for a season or a lifetime and often cooperate in communities

and hunt in packs. Birds are also warm-blooded—this is why we see them

in the wintertime—and they too take care of their young. In this case, it is

the nest that is the symbol of parenting and family life. They often form

partnerships, sometimes for life, and some of them have complex

community lives that are not easy for us to understand. Others are solitary. So the heart came before humanity. Just about the only thing we have that birds and animals do not is self-

consciousness and the ability to separate ourselves from the rest of creation

and make our own rules. That’s not necessarily a good thing. But this gives us some control over our minds, and that gives us the

ability to self-analyze, to stop the images in our brain and examine them, to

reflect upon our experience and even ourselves. We can even train our

minds to grasp and see the images that flit through them before they get

away. Carl Jung called this “active imagination.” Blake differentiated between self-generated images and those that came fresh and original from

the unknown. The former he called “fantasy,” the latter “imagination.”

The animals touch the Spirit World through dreamtime. They have

never lost this connection, but they also cannot reflect back upon it or upon

their own status. We, on the other hand, enter Paradise through both

dreamtime and the imagination. The former is said to be the basis of the

Old, Old Path; the latter of the “New Way.”

There is an old Chinese expression: “On Earth, thoughts; in Heaven,

images.” Images are prior to words. We interpret images into words. “A

face might launch a thousand ships, but a description of a face is unlikely

ever to induce a single boat to raise sail” (Hedsel 1999, 12).

From the shamanic standpoint, true imagination is the “outpost” of

dreamtime in the conscious world. It gives us a second route of access to

the Spirit World. Animals can see images in their minds but can’t control

them. We can barely control them either, but through practice we can learn

to watch what images enter and leave our awareness. We can learn to

differentiate between fantasy (images that are not based on reality) and

imagination (images that stem from some original, authentic experience of

body, soul, or spirit).

True imagination is spiritual seership and it is always

fresh and new, like true art, coming into our mind from sources across the

gardens of time and space. We can choose what thoughts or images we wish to entertain in our

minds. We can fill our time with fantasies or we can await the imagination

to bring us new things from outside of ourselves. We can choose images

that are beautiful or deformed, kind or mean, loving or hateful, that increase

or decrease self-awareness. For the poet William Blake (1757–1827), the Imagination, God, and

Man are continuous. In The Laocoon he writes: “The Eternal Body of Man

is The Imagination. God himself, that is, The Divine Body” (Blake 1982,

273).

A Vision of The Last Judgment (1810) is the document in which Blake

gives his most extended view of Imagination, which he contrasts with

allegory, or storytelling based on memory rather than Imagination. For

Blake, “The Last Judgment is an Overwhelming of Bad Art & Science” that

occurs “when all those are Cast away who trouble Religion with Questions

concerning Good & Evil or Eating of the Tree of those Knowledges or

Reasonings which hinder the Vision of God.” It is not “Fable or Allegory

but Vision.” Blake is aware of common criticism of Imagination. “Fable is Allegory but what Critics call The Fable is Vision itself.” The distinction

ought to be made “for the Sake of Eternal Life,” for the “Imagination is the

World of Eternity ...

into which we shall all go after the death of the

Vegetated body” (Blake 1982, 565, 554–555).

Blake gives an explanation that fits the premise of our shamanic herbal

(1982, 555):

The Nature of Visionary Fancy or Imagination is very little Known

& the Eternal nature & permanence of its ever Existent Images is

considerd as less permanent than the things of Vegetative &

Generative Nature yet the Oak dies as well as the Lettuce but Its

Eternal Image & Individuality never dies. For Blake, the Imagination is what makes us quintessentially human. To

the extent that we see the humanity in others we manifest our own

humanity. So, being human is a matter of “seeing human.” Blake would say

that we bear the human image. Going further, Blake identified the human

image, the imagination, with the Divine. That led him to coin the expression

that lies at the center of his theology: “Jesus the Divine Human

Imagination.” Jesus did a pretty good job of personifying the magnanimous

potential of humanity and describing the Spirit World, the “Kingdom of

Heaven,” in the imagination, so for Blake he also personified the

imagination. Jesus described and initiated a New Way of imagination, as

compared to its more difficult predecessssor, the Old, Old Way of

dreamtime. Born to the trade of herbalism, I prefer “Nature’s Open Book,”

inscribed almost invisibly on the floor of the great forest where our animal

kin tread. But there are villages and cities, noisy, teaming in

unconsciousness, so the path of the human totem is not so easy to follow

either. We have the free will to be magnanimous, expressing our humanity in

the best possible way, or in the worst. We can also waste the opportunity we

have in a human body, in the Earth environment we have been gifted with,

consuming time and space. These are assets that could really be used to

assist the evolution of human beings. Most people are afraid to dedicate themselves irretrievably to good or

evil; they just want to live unconsciously off the fat of the land. Western

civilization, which was being spread across the Earth as if it were a superior form of human life, is fast destroying the Earth, and is now seemingly

consuming itself. The name for white man in Dakota is wasichu, “eater of

the fat.” This won’t last very much longer; we live in a time of accounting

and transformation. The path of human nature is based on empathy for others: being kind

and good and thoughtful. We find this tendency to strive toward a better,

higher vision of oneself and of humanity in general in all the great religions

of the world. Through the imagination we see what is better and we see

ourselves becoming better people. This is the New Way, as compared (not

opposed) to the Old, Old Path. It is the path of humanity today, whereas

shamanism is a path that is more and more rarely trod. It is more important

to have a loving heart than to journey to the Spirit World. There are at least seven traits that are essential to human nature: self-

consciousness, free will, speech, the expanding heart, imagination,

intuition, and inspiration. Through (1) self-consciousness we learn to reflect

on our experiences and to self-examine. Through (2) free will we choose

our path. In (3) speech there is a great mystery because speech weaves

together disparate strands to become new arrangements of energy and

character. In this it imitates or—better yet—actually manifests the character

of the spirit. This is why speech is connected to magic. As we have seen, (4)

the heart is crucial to our humanity (even if it comes from the animals).

So

is (5) imagination, as we bear the human image. Intuition (6) is crucial to

the development of our wisdom and understanding of where we are in

creation. All true learning is (7) inspired: we say a good teacher “inspires

her students.” The root of the word “inspiration” indicates that all true

learning comes from the influx of the spirit and that it is as necessary as the

inspiration of the breath. These seven parts of us reflect the seven mysteries

that rule creation and evolution. Individuality

In order to fulfill human nature, we need to examine and learn about

ourselves and express who we really are as individuals. In addition to being

Nature-based and dreamtime-based, shamanism is centered in the

individual. It does not espouse a system of beliefs but advocates methods

and stories for personal development. It encourages individuality through interaction with the Living Nature and the spirit. It does not inherently

conflict with established religion or belief systems because it does not seek

to predetermine what a person will discover on their path. Shamanism

promotes personal experience, self-awareness, independence of thought,

and self-responsibility. These characteristics are integral to true spiritual

life, along with compassion, humility, and an uncompromising focus on the

achievement of positive outcomes for all. This brings us to the first true flaw in the shamanic system: it does not

necessarily build community. The shaman very often feels—and is—

isolated from society. Mircea Eliade, in the second chapter of Shamanism,

described the characteristic profile of the shamanic neophyte: he or she is

called as an individual, away from his or her society, to wrestle with

personal spiritual matters. This often involves physical, emotional, or

mental challenges, often taking the individual all the way to psychological

or physical death and rebirth. Then the shaman returns to society bearing

gifts from another dimension. Individuality and community might be considered eighth and ninth

characteristics of human nature, but I believe they belong to the heart,

which senses individuality in itself and others yet also needs belongingness

and community. The second flaw in the shamanic system is much more serious. Shamanism is conducive to the development of the “Dark Arts,” which are

terribly destructive to the individual and the community. We need to be very

clear about this from the beginning. The modern conceit is that there is no

real good and evil, either because there is no God or ultimate reality or

indelible moral code, or because God is all-forgiving, or simply because it

is rude to talk about something that might embarrass somebody. Modern

education has taught the people to believe that their self-generated fantasies

of truth are as good as any other, as if there were no ultimate truth. If there is no ultimate truth, then there are no ultimates—God, Mother

Nature, the Soul World, the spirit. The Harvard School of Divinity recently

appointed an atheist as the head of the spiritual counseling section—to the

general applause of the modern, materialist, secular humanist world. At the same time that the modern mind denies the existence of

imponderables such as soul and spirit, there is a widespread indulgence in

unexamined emotionalism. If there is no ultimate truth, then there is no

ultimate responsibility, and if that is the case, there is no reason not to indulge our petty and vindictive feelings. This is highly visible in the

socially popular ideas of our time. Meanwhile, there has been a proliferation of the practice of

“witchcraft.” People like to think of themselves as “witches” because it

sounds romantic or powerful. A lot of the herb books appearing nowadays

have the word in their title. But self-indulgence in unexamined fantasies

and power trips weakens the soul. I call these people “petty witches.” But

they can do a little bit of evil. They are gods who think they can determine

the fate of others through psychic manipulation. I’ve run up against these

people. Since thoughts and feelings do have power on the psychological and

spiritual planes—even when they are not acknowledged—this means that

the practice of “petty witchcraft” or projecting negative thoughts on other

people is widespread. In fact, we are all doing this all the time. Many of the

people who say truth is relative practice “petty witchcraft,” casting spells

and attacking their emotional and intellectual foes. This is much more

prevalent today in the dominant culture than it was when I was young. (Or

maybe I am more sensitive now?)

“Petty witches” have not run across the true witches, the terrible

“witches-in-dreamtime” who laugh at psychic manipulation. Their method

is to alter us in our imagination and dream—on a level where most people

are unconscious. It is harder to reach into the dreams of an unconscious

person, so those who are in danger are those who are just becoming awake

to dreamtime. Petty manipulations of other people have to be forgivable mistakes, as

far as the spirit is concerned—or God, if you will, or Mother Nature, the

Soul World herself—because we all do this. But we all need to wake up and

accept that we are petty, worthless individuals in the face of the eternal

spirit. Many petty perpetrators do not seem ready to awaken from their

“Deadly Dreams of Good & Evil,” as William Blake writes in A Vision of

the Last Judgment (1982, 563).

After the death of the body, the soul loses the leverage that kept the

person from confronting their emotions, thoughts, and actions. The

conglomeration that was once a living being is pulled apart by the Lords of

the Dead—alligators and death-raptors. All that is left is piles of senseless

rubble and undifferentiated soul material waiting to be recycled into newly minted souls. That rubble is what don Juan called the “graveyard of

sorcerers.”

Dark magic grows out of the opposite of individuality and community. It feeds on personality, ego, and inability to respect the value and free will

of others. We cannot be so pointedly naive on the shamanic path as to

ignore good and evil. On the other hand, we cannot adhere to artificial

moral codes associated with our fears and projections. We have to

experience good and evil. So in that respect these petty witches serve a

function, although they are not “worthy opponents,” as don Juan called

them, but “worthless opponents” and “time-wasters.”

On the path we are going to be tested by much more hideous and

skillful savants of the Dark Arts, who will come at us in dreamtime, trying

to twist our destinies, not just our feelings. Our instincts, our animal self,

must be trained to react immediately; they must not be cluttered over with

blobs of worthless, unexamined psychological energy. Other people can

believe what they want, but when one becomes conscious in imagination or

dreamtime, one’s inner nature is nakedly exposed to the powers that be in

that world, including the thoughts, feelings, and dreams of other people,

living and non-incarnate. If we seek power or selfish goals, we will be

corrupted and destroyed, and never become fully fledged human beings. We

will become not only removed from society, but detrimental to it. We will

only bear a deformed human image. On the spiritual path, our primal individual nature bubbles up from

esoteric depths and we become who we really are. Our personal moral fiber

becomes clear as our responses and actions in imagination and dreamtime

bring to the surface our true aims and core attributes. We feel a deep

purpose and it drives us to make that purpose happen. This truth is felt by

everyone regardless of their religion. A Christian author coined the phrase

the “purpose-driven life.” That is the root of individuality. Shamans frequently work by themselves. They often interact with

individuals in their community one by one: perhaps as physical,

psychological, or spiritual healers. On the other hand, some work with

whole communities. In The Tears of the Ancestors, the Dutch shaman Daan

van Kampenhout (2008) took on the estrangement and damage caused—to

the living and the dead—by the Nazi fiasco. Working with the dead is also

one of the hallmarks of the shaman. Because the path of the shaman is so individualistic, we need other

protocols for community life: religious or spiritual systems that are oriented

toward building and maintaining social structure. Because of the spiritual

bankruptcy of the secular humanist/industrial/pharmacological complex,

combined with the armchair individualism fostered by the cyber world, with

the destruction of the old neighborhood-based society, we have very few

institutions left that can build community naturally. Even here, where

shamanism is poorly outfitted to help, perhaps it can contribute to a better

social environment. In societies in which the shamanic element is recognized as an

important part of society, it enters into community events. In the Pueblo

cultures of the American Southwest, there are dances and societies closely

related to the shamanic impulse. This is also preserved in the Catholic

festivals of Mexico and still even in some Mediterranean countries. If

modern society ever becomes founded upon authentic spiritual experience,

these sorts of community-encouraging events will have to spring up from

the imagination. If we survive, perhaps societies of the future will enact

festivals, stories, and dances that describe their interpretation of what we

went through and failed to do—or perhaps did do—as we irresponsibly

endangered ourselves and the whole world. *Native herbalist Karyn Sanders. 1

Shamanism from Siberia to Los

Angeles

angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly

connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night

ALLEN GINSBERG, HOWL

The word “shaman” was originally used by the Tungus people of central

Siberia, adopted by a Christian priest who was having a “spiritual battle”

with one of their “shamans,” later adopted into the Russian language, and

finally taken up by anthropologists. In Shamans Through Time (2001),

Jeremy Narby and Francis Huxley trace the changing conception of what a

shaman is in the eyes of Western culture, from witch to madman, to

psychologist, to spiritual technician. It was Mircea Eliade’s breakthrough

book Shamanism (1964) that finally caught up with the spiritual dimension

of the subject. Originally, the term was applied by anthropologists to spiritual leaders

in Siberian cultures involved largely in big-game hunting. Then the same

constellation of practices and beliefs were found in North American

cultures that were also primarily hunter-gatherer societies—although Native

Americans don’t apply the term themselves. The same traits were found

throughout the Americas, in urban societies as well as in the jungle, forest,

and tundra. The same patterns of thought, associating humans and animals, were discovered in ancient European cave paintings. They were found in

Australia, Africa—in fact, everywhere other than modern Western culture. Western Shamanism: Undying but Ignored

Surely, something that is universal has to exist in Western society as well as

everywhere else. Shamanism always existed and continues right under the

nose of Western anthropologists. Until recently, it was termed occultism or

esotericism. This is the path of Paracelsus, Jacob Boehme, Thomas

Vaughan, Paschal Beverly Randolph, Helena Blavatsky, Arthur Edward

Waite, Pamela Coleman Smith, Rudolf Steiner, Albert Sidney Raleigh,

George Gurdjieff, and P. D. Ouspensky. All teach, in slightly different

forms, the doctrine of the three selves and the transformation of

consciousness in dreamtime or an alternate consciousness through meeting

the animal self. Let’s take a look at how Steiner describes the animal self and its

importance in spiritual development. In Knowledge of the Higher Worlds

and Its Attainment, Steiner defines the “astral cloud or aura in which the

being is enveloped” as “the whole range of instincts, impulses, desires and

passions both of an animal and of a human being” (1947, 199).

When this

“aura” becomes orderly, a person begins to see animals differently. “Hitherto we had seen only a part of the animal kingdom, its external

aspect”; now we begin to see the “higher forms of every creature in the

animal kingdom” (Steiner 1947, 201).

Steiner makes it clear that the

transition to a higher form of spiritual consciousness occurs simultaneously

with this change in relationship to the Animal Kingdom. Formerly, we saw

a horse, now we see Horse. This surely is not Buddhism, Eastern religion,

or Christianity: it is shamanism!

This realization is followed by what Steiner called “anxiety.” This is

exactly true—although I would have chosen the word “mortal terror”

instead. The warm-blooded animal self (midbrain) brings the reptilian self

(back brain) along with it when it comes into consciousness in dreamtime

and then into ordinary awareness. The reptilian brain or reptilian self cannot

directly perceive the Spirit World and therefore it only knows that

“something terrible has happened” that could cause self-annihilation. But

this is still only part of the explanation: the animal beings or “Elders” are connected to the faery beings—the “inorganic beings” of Castaneda, and

they are terrifying because they are not human or animal or even earthly. They don’t have genetics that we are familiar with. The anatomical meeting place for the animal self and the human self is

in the throat, just below the thyroid. This is the border between the animal

(below the neck) and the human (above).

Steiner identifies this point as the

“throat chakra” and says that the eight upper petals of the chakra are

assigned to the human, while the eight lower petals belong to the animal

(1947, 135).

In his plan, first the human petals are brought to awareness and

then the animal petals follow. This would not be the standard method in

traditional shamanism, where the animal self often comes to consciousness

first. Steiner’s method meets the problem, which we have in some

instances, where the animal self comes to dominate over the human. On the

other hand, we don’t want to overemphasize the human either. Steiner’s term for the animal self is “astral body.” The actualization of

this body or self is followed, according to Steiner, by the creation of what

he calls the “higher self” in How to Know Higher Worlds:

Now, when the gate of the senses is closed during sleep, these other

impressions begin to emerge confusedly, and the dreamer becomes

aware of experiences in another world....

When the isolated experiences during sleep begin, as described,

the moment of birth is approaching for the liberated soul, for she has

literally become a new being, developed by the individual within

himself, from seed to fruit....

That this higher soul-being should be born during deep sleep

will be easily grasped, for ...

the activity of the higher soul, at first

so delicate and inconspicuous, can come into evidence. (Steiner

1947, 193, 210, 211)

In addition to the “astral body,” Steiner also speaks of the actualization

of the “etheric body.” This is the part of us we feel as vitality. It is

intimately connected to our physical body and in fact we can identify it with

“body awareness” and “body memory.” It never forgets any powerful

impression made upon it, either physical or psychological. When we have

an experience in any world, from normal to alternate reality, it makes an impression on the “body memory.” For this reason, the etheric body is used

as a repository for experiences learned in alternate reality. As Steiner says

(1947, 193): “the etheric body, when developed, brings full knowledge

concerning these engraved impressions derived from other worlds.”

Don Juan used this method on Castaneda extensively. In fact, the whole

series of books covers the same time period and experiences, but relived

from a deeper and deeper awareness in this memory bank. Don Juan called

this part of a person the “energy body.” He often caused Castaneda to

change into altered reality, where he trained him. When Castaneda later hit

that speed bump, he relived the experience in full awareness. The idea of the PC crowd that Western people, in picking up the

shamanic standard, are guilty of “cultural appropriation,” is not only

incorrect but insulting to shamanic cultures everywhere. It implies that

shamanism is not a universal path but some sort of invention of the

individual culture and therefore not founded on enduring spiritual realities. Shamanism is a universal path. The old Western occultists called it the

“perennial philosophy” (adopted from Leibniz) or the “Old, Old Path.” It is

built into the foundations of Nature, Humanity, and Animality. From Cosimo de’ Medici to Helena Blavatsky

The basic contours of the occult tradition we follow today derive from a

school set up by Cosimo de’ Medici (1389–1464), which still exists in

Florence today (Hedsel 1999).

Actually, the school would date back to the

early fourteenth century, when the tarot cards were developed in northern

Italy, but only the images remain to testify to this early layer of the

tradition. Cosimo hired Marsilio Ficino (1433–1499) to translate the ancient

Corpus Hermeticum and the Platonic dialogues, which were smuggled out

of Constantinople shortly before its fall to the Turks in 1457.

The Corpus

Hermeticum traces back to the Roman period. One of Ficino’s students was

Johannes Trithemius (1462–1516), Abbot of Sponheim, the teacher of

Paracelsus (Theophrastus von Hohenheim, 1493–1542) and Cornelius

Agrippa von Nettesheim (1486–1535).

The former penned numerous

medical and occult treatises, which represent a sort of unedited flow of

consciousness—according to one of his secretaries, Oporinus, he was

usually drunk—while the latter wrote a carefully organized Three Books of Occult Philosophy. The rise of a literature of Western occultism therefore

dates to these individuals. Of the two, Paracelsus is vastly more interesting

and useful. Paracelsus’s insights were so important that his ideas about occult

matters have not still not completely disappeared from publication. He was

an advocate of magia naturale, or “Natural Magic,” which was the use of

correspondence and signatures to understand Nature and apply natural

relationships to life events. This was “science” at the time—based upon the

Living Nature doctrine of the Earth surrounded by nine or ten spheres—and

therefore sanctioned by the Church. Paracelsus attributed knowledge to the

lumen naturae or Light of Nature, which shone through the creation in the

signatures and correspondences. He also believed in the Light of God,

which illuminated things beyond Nature. Paracelsus inspired a lot of people, including Jacob Boehme (1575–

1624), who attempted to work his wild ravings into an organized corpus of

Nature Wisdom (Natura Sophia) and Divine Wisdom (Theosophia).

Boehme needed the Paracelsian terminology to explain his own vision:

twice he saw the Merkabah, the Throne of God described by Ezekiel and

others. The Nature Wisdom movement, founded largely on Boehme’s work,

was popular in German Pietism until the end of the eighteenth century. The

major translations into English by William Law await the latter half of that

century. One of the readers most strongly influenced by the Law

translations was William Blake. Another influence upon him was Emanuel

Swedenborg (1688–1772), the “Seer of the North,” who fertilized theology

and esotericism with his account of journeys to other dimensions. Swedenborg was trained as a scientist and it is said that he lived in the

last generation when a single individual could master every known

scientific field. When he had completed this kind of survey, he turned the

scientific method upon the one subject that remained unstudied: himself. He

kept a journal of his dreams: these slowly revealed an extensively detailed

internal spiritual world that he described like a scientist visiting a foreign

country. He called these places “heaven and hell,” although Rudolf Steiner

said they were visits to the “akashic records,” the library of the world. I

don’t know. Swedenborg’s anonymous writings fascinated late eighteenth-

century Europe. William Blake was one of the persons excited by Swedenborg. He also

visited heaven and hell in “Vision,” as he called it. Soon he developed alternative ideas and became critical of Swedenborg’s scientific “voice” and

attitude in describing “Vision.” Blake parodied Swedenborg, especially in

the book he called The Marriage of Heaven and Hell (1790).

The statement by Blake at the beginning this book (“None by travelling

over known lands can find out the unknown”) was made by a man who

lived in London his whole life, save for a few years in a cottage just south

of the city. He never traveled over unknown lands—except in “Vision”—but

the lands he explored were indeed new. Swedenborg and Blake are probably the greatest contributors to esoteric

literature and tradition in the late Enlightenment era. Swedenborg wrote

anonymously and Blake was almost entirely ignored in his own lifetime. Both were well read in Hermeticism, Platonic philosophy, the Hebrew and

Greek Bible, and the esoteric worldview. Swedenborg did not attribute any

of his knowledge to the Western esoteric tradition or philosophy, though it

is known that he studied both. Therefore, he recounts many esoteric

doctrines as if they were simply facts he had discovered. This annoyed

Blake, as it is likely to annoy anyone versed in Western philosophy and

Hermeticism. Despite their direct experience, the two had little influence on

the occult tradition, which followed other byways. The early nineteenth century saw an explosion of self-confidence in the

American self-made man as new “liberties” encouraged free speech and

thinking. This caused a deterioration in the quality of esoteric education and

knowledge. This is a time period when we see the appearance of many half-

baked tenets of esotericism making their way into mainstream or sectarian

literature, as exampled in Mitch Horowitz’s Occult America (2009) or D. Michael Quinn’s Early Mormonism and the Magic Worldview (1987).

One of the most interesting and important of the American occultists

was Paschal Beverly Randolph (1825–1875).

Although he originated in

America—a light-skinned Afro-American—he traveled the world, was

friends with kings, politicians, and occultists—and was especially close

with Hargrave Jennings, the prime mover in English occultism in the

middle of the nineteenth century. His occultism is conveyed in his writings

without a shade of protest about his humble, disadvantaged origins, without

a digression on the terrifying issues ripping his nation apart. As a free man of color traveling both north and south of the Mason-

Dixon line in a time when anyone with a dark complexion could be

enslaved if they couldn’t present the right papers, the reader cannot help but wonder how Randolph managed to avoid trouble. He was also a black man

advocating sexual freedom in the pre–Civil War period!

How could he get

away with this?

Randolph explains how he navigated the roads of life

safely: he was able to pick up on the thoughts and emotions of people

around him, weaving them to suit his purposes. It is clear he possessed a

familiar spirit that “went before him,” protecting his way. Obviously, such powers could easily be abused—especially if one

believed in sexual freedom—but Randolph had a highly developed moral

sense and differentiated carefully between self-interest and selfless service

to humanity. His writings display the humility inherent in the best occult

writers—Jacob Boehme, Emmanuel Swedenborg, Rudolf Steiner, and so

forth. This meant that he could not use his powers to influence students to

follow him and, although he was well-known in occult circles in America

and Europe, he never reached too far beyond obscurity. However, Randolph

deserves credit for perpetuating occult teachings in a time of horrific strife

and social upheaval, before, during, and after the American Civil War. One

of his students, Allan F. Odell, describes the positive and negative sides of

the environment in which he taught:

He lived and wrote in a time of mental stress and strain; in the days

of the reconstruction, after the young Republic had successfully

withstood the first assault upon its internal unity. Just after this

struggle of brother against brother, there was an attitude of

thankfulness on the part of the nation. The people breathed more

easily and turned the lamps of their minds upon the ways of the

spirit and the deeper things in life. Warfare, carnage, over-

zealousness, mistaken devotion or forgetfulness of high ideals

always seem to have been followed by a period of solemn quiet....

Turning away from the world, men contemplate the dim aisles of the

inner self, where God is said to dwell. (Randolph 1930, xi)

Though the work of the shaman requires connection with the eternal

Spirit World, one can never separate the shaman from the time period in

which they live, nor from the land they frequent, where they were born, or

where they choose to live. As a product of his time, Randolph demonstrates

a thorough knowledge of Platonic philosophy and the traditional magical

literature of the Western occult tradition. We do not know whether he also studied with Afro-American practitioners of voodoo, though he was clearly

knowledgable about practitioners in New Orleans and—of all places—Long

Island. The great watershed in modern occult education occurred in 1875, when

Helena Blavatsky (1831–1891), a Russian émigré, cofounded the

Theosophical Society in New York City. She incorporated a lot of doctrine

from Vedic philosophy and eventually moved her headquarters to India. During the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, the Theosophical

Society and its offshoots literally had millions of followers around the

world. Blavatsky contributed to the cultural life of the subcontinent where

she lived, supporting native religion against the missionaries and education

of the West. Rudolf Steiner (1861–1925) was a citizen of Austria living in another

tumultuous time, during the rise of a unified Germany, the First World War,

the collapse of the Austrian Empire and the German currency, early labor

movement struggles (which he supported), just before the rise of Hitler. Steiner was a gifted clairvoyant and occultist. He predicted—to the

month—the rise to power of a German dictator. He associated this

individual with Lucifer, the egoic facet of evil. He also foresaw the rise to

power of the second face of evil, “Ahriman,” about 2012.

This time, he

said, the dominant power would be faceless world corporations, not

egotism. Steiner headed the German section of the Theosophical Society and

never criticized Blavatsky, but he broke with her successor, Annie Besant

(1847–1933) when the latter declared Jiddu Krishnamurti (1895–1966) the

avatar of the age—an elevation the Indian himself later thoroughly rejected

—wisely stating that each person was responsible for their own spiritual

life. By the early twentieth century, compulsory public education was

pushed on the few pockets of the U. S. population that still believed in the

magical worldview—the Native Americans, the Pennsylvania Dutch, and

the subcultures of the American South. Today the media is heavily

controlled so that subjects such as alternative medicine are seldom

mentioned in the major news outlets, and shamanism or occultism even less

so. When I was young, esotericism was still much influenced by

Theosophical teachings. Blavatsky, Steiner, Albert Sidney Raleigh (1881– 1930), George Gurdjieff (1866–1949), Max Heindel (1865–1919), Arthur E. Waite (1857–1942), and Manley Palmer Hall (1901–1990) all maintained a

fairly unified theory of occult knowledge, and when we look at their

teaching, we find the same emphasis on the three basic selves, characteristic

of shamanism. Raleigh, by the way, was one of the last occultists to have been put to

death for his vocation. He was charged with spreading false doctrines in

Arkansas in 1936, put on a prison farm to await trail, and despite his

protestations that he was sensitive to the sun, he was sent out to work and

died of heat stroke on the third day of his imprisonment. He was the only

premodern Western occultist whose writings show extensive knowledge of

Central Mexican nagualism, in addition to Hermeticism and Vedanta. The appearance of shamanic and Native American teachings in the late

twentieth century began to change the discussion in esoteric and New Age

literature. These and other forces had a fertilizing effect on the movement. A good example of an individual who was educated largely by Indigenous

influences would be Max Freedom Long (1890–1971), who studied the

Hawaiian Kahunas. The Three Selves

Max Freedom Long was perhaps the first man of Western culture to

discover the threefold system in the shamanism of an Indigenous, non-

Western setting. He used a traditional approach to knowledge found in

shamanism throughout the world: studying root words. These were the

Hawaiian vocabulary relating to the magical work of the kahunas. He

realized that the shamans or kahunas of Hawaii must have had a language to

teach their students and that it had to be Hawaiian. From this insight he

developed the doctrine of the “three selves”: uhane (talking self, ego),

unihipili (animal self), and aumakua (spirit self, ancestral self).

He

understood that it was necessary to become conscious of the animal self so

that communication with the aumakua could occur. Long interpreted the word unihipili from its roots—which is a valid

approach in the study of Hawaiian, but may diverge from common usage. Since he found nihi (or hini) to mean “hidden” and pili designates a

“servant,” unihipili could be translated “hidden soul (u) that serves another.” Long rightly says that this is a perfect description of Freud’s

“unconscious.” Freud defines the id, the central guiding intelligence of the

unconscious as the center of the instincts, so in this regard the id is identical

to an instinctual “animal self.” However, Long’s translation is quite

different from common Hawaiian usage. In everyday speech, unihipili

refers to the shade or shadow that goes down into the Underworld after the

death of the body. The word aumakua refers to the animal totem of a clan or person. The

root u- or au- means “self” or “soul” while makua means “benevolent

ancestor” or “ancestral spirit.” The word akua was translated by the

missionaries as “god” but also means “animal totem.”

Long’s ideas reflect the psychiatric contributions of Freud, who also

discovered “three selves” about the same time: the ego (conscious self), id

(guiding intelligence of the unconscious), and superego. The latter is not

actually the spirit or a spirit, but is defined by Freud as the projection of a

moral code, system, or God-belief by the individual. Freud very accurately

saw that all people normally are motivated by the concept of a God or

morality that is a projection of their training and experience, rather than an

authentic spiritual experience. At the time Long wrote, the outlines of shamanic knowledge were so

little known in Western culture that he had to make up a word to name his

system. He chose huna, a made-up Hawaiian word, the roots of which,

however, mean “secret.” This makes the miracle-working kahuna into a

“keeper” (kahu) of the “secret” (huna).

However, the word kahuna actually

seems to merely mean a practitioner of any kind of trade, art, or practice,

and first appears in a Hawaiian English dictionary in 1865 as the word for a

cook!

By the time Long came to the islands, in 1917, the use of the word

kahuna to signify a practitioner of occult or spiritual power was standard. Long sussed out the character of the shamanic path and I believe he

deserves credit for this accomplishment, which he dates to about 1936.

He

woke from a dream understanding that the Hawaiians had to have had

words for their experiences and he worked out the practices from the root

words. The connection between this work, however, and shamanism, was

not then apparent. Nor was the connection between Western occultism and

shamanism. Or Freudian psychology and shamanism!

Carlos Castaneda

It was the appearance of the writings of Carlos Castaneda (1925–1998), that

brought the understanding of shamanism into both anthropology and

popular Western culture. Castaneda described many important aspects of

spiritual warriorship, shamanic experience, and dreamtime know-how, yet

his writings are more like a travelogue without a set of directions. Castaneda did not really want to pass on the keys he had received. In Journey to Ixtlan, we are informed that Castaneda’s animal self is

Coyote—a perfectly fine animal but a trickster through and through; don

Juan notes this in his analysis of Castaneda’s experience (Castaneda 1972,

250, 255).

Amy Wallace’s Sorcerer’s Apprentice (2003) reveals Castaneda’s

character faults: he was a narcissist and womanizer who did not want to

empower anyone but himself. Luis De La Lama’s The Heart of the Serpent: Mystical Journeys to the

Core of Life (1993) gives an account of an initiation of a student by

Castaneda—who, of course, did not publicly acknowledge the transfer of

energy. The download was so enormous and overwhelming that De La

Lama had to spend six months living in his mother’s basement in Tijuana,

watching Mexican soap operas, in order to learn how to be human again. William Patrick Patterson’s critique, The Life & Teachings of Carlos

Castaneda (2008), traces the relationship between Castaneda’s work and

Mexican nagualism, a connection Castaneda did not make clear until late in

his writings. Patterson’s main effort is to demonstrate that Castaneda

borrowed from George Gurdjieff’s teachings. I would make this borrowing

fairly minimal and attribute most of the similarity to the commonality of

shamanic concepts throughout the world. Timothy Knab’s A War of the Witches (1995) gives the key to the

shamanic model. Like Castaneda, Knab was an anthropologist trained by

nagualist practitioners in central Mexico. This book shows us what

Castaneda could have been: a humble, helpful, truthful spiritual student and

teacher, rather than a power-hungry womanizer and trickster. Knab was the

first author I ran across who blatantly stated a simple fact: the animal self

becomes the dream self. Knab’s teachers preferred to avoid contact with “those who are not our

brothers”—Castaneda’s “inorganic beings.” Unlike Knab’s teachers,

Castaneda’s put great emphasis on contact with the inorganic beings. While Castaneda does not empower his readers, he leaves an extensive and

detailed account of many aspects of real journeying in the Spirit World. It is

profoundly useful and inspiring. In Mexico, the word nagual is the most common name for the animal

self, the spirit self it gives birth to, the shaman who can change into an

animal, and the realm in which the dream self operates. The term was

defined by Daniel Brinton in the late nineteenth century (Brinton’s work is

reprinted in Patterson 2008).

It is also used by Timothy Knab and Théun

Mares (1998) in his development of Castaneda’s material. Théun Mares’s analysis of Castaneda is detailed. He explains the path

into the spiritual world that Castaneda took in such detail that one can

actually detect the same pattern in the visionary experiences of Jacob

Boehme. Many have attempted to show that Castaneda was a charlatan. He

certainly was a trickster, but his accounts of another world are authentic and

can experienced. It’s just that nobody can prove the existence of other

dimensions to an audience that has not had the experience. We can also refer to Douglas Gillette’s The Shaman’s Secret: The Lost

Resurrection Teachings of the Ancient Maya (1997).

This chronicles some

of the ancient lineage of nagualism. It is now well known that the monarchs

of the ancient Mayans were “shaman kings”—political, religious, and

spiritual leaders. The “lost resurrection teachings” of the old Mayas that

Gillette describes dovetail with modern nagualism and shamanism. The

“secret” in the title of Gillette’s book is a reference to the awakening of the

animal self (uayob).

The shaman kings were identified with the Black Jaguar, an animal alter

ego of the Lord of the Underworld. One can only imagine the terrifying

authority these shaman kings must have exercised. The chaos that ensued

when these leaders were overthrown—several cultural epochs before the

appearance of the Spanish—resulted in the kind of war referred to in

Timothy Knab’s title. Searching for a Name

The publication of Michael Harner’s The Way of the Shaman in 1980

brought the concept of shamanism into popular Western culture and made it

into a “spiritual movement.” Under the influence of Ayahuasca administered by Native practitioners in the Upper Amazon, Harner pretty

much had the full shamanic experience (1990, 4):

I became aware of my brain. I felt—physically—that it had become

compartmentalized into four separate and distinct levels. At the

uppermost surface was the observer and commander, which was

conscious of the condition of my body, and was responsible for the

attempt to keep my heart going. lt perceived, but purely as a

spectator, the visions emanating from what seemed to be the nether

portions of my brain. Immediately below the topmost level I felt a

numbed layer, which seemed to have been put out of commission by

the drug—it just wasn’t there. The next level down was the source

of my visions, including the soul boat. Now I was virtually certain I was about to die. As I tried to

accept my fate, an even lower portion of my brain began to transmit

more visions and information. I was “told” that this new material

was being presented to me because I was dying and therefore “safe”

to receive these revelations. These were the secrets reserved for the

dying and the dead, I was informed. Harner’s conscious self is largely incapacitated. He enters the Land of

the Dead and here finds “giant reptilian creatures reposing sluggishly at the

lowermost depths of the back of my brain, where it met the top of the spinal

column” (Harner 1990, 4).

The lower back brain is the reptilian brain, one

evolutionary notch above the brain stem or amphibian brain. These

“dragonlike creatures” claimed to be the progenitors of life on Earth:

They were the true masters of humanity and the entire planet, they

told me. We humans were but the receptacles and servants of these

creatures. For this reason they could speak to me from within

myself. (Harner 1990, 4–5)

As we will see, the Dragons do have a claim over the human race. This is an experience of the reptilian self and not the warm-blooded

animal self. Sometimes, this is the order in which the shamanic student

experiences the actualization of the animal world—as, for example, in the experience of my friend Susan, where she was visited by the King of the

Alligators. At the time when Harner was writing, most non-Indigenous people,

including anthropologists and ethnobotanists, did not understand

shamanism. When Carlos Castaneda began to write in 1967, neither he, his

faculty advisors, nor his readers were capable of identifying the worldview

of his mentor, don Juan. It eventually became clear that this was a version

of the well-documented form of Mexican shamanism called nagualism. By

1980, when Harner (one of Castaneda’s faculty advisors) penned The Way

of the Shaman, the concept finally made its way into common culture. This

resulted in the initiation of a popular spiritual path called shamanism or

neoshamanism in New Age and alternative circles. Popular shamanism has several different origins. The most important

would be the enormously popular series of Castaneda books. A second

influence came through the popularization of psychedelic drugs. Terence

and Dennis McKenna and others pioneered the use of Ayahuasca, which is

now widely available in North America. Another influence is the

introduction of Native American spirituality and ceremony into mainstream

culture. Many Indian people associate the term “shamanism” with

witchcraft or dilettantism. The popular New Age movement, descended

from Western occultism, was also highly influential. Finally, there is the

modern pagan and witchcraft revival, closed related to the New Age. One

must include the romanticism of shamanism and its paraphernalia as an

additional influence. Of course, one cannot simplify mass movements down

to one interpretation. Within the Western occult tradition there must have been many others,

like myself, who saw the shamanic impulse as more vivacious and alive

than the rather stultified tradition that we received through our teachers and

traditions. In The UnderWorld Initiation (1989), R. J. Stewart fondly speaks

of his mentor as an “Edwardian occultist,” but the path he discovered and

taught is based upon interaction with the faeries and the Faery Queen. Edwardian occultism, the New Age, and shamanism are now much

interconnected. The new “imitative” shamanism has been called “neoshamanism.” I

don’t use this term because I consider Paracelsus, Randolph, Blavatsky,

Steiner, and Gurdjieff to have been representatives of an unbroken shamanic tradition that was classified as “occultism” and is still not

recognized as “shamanism” by anthropologists. Self-identification with shamanism in the popular culture has often been

dismissed by many as misguided romanticism. It is also rejected by many

Native Americans. Several of my Native friends begged me not to use the

word “shaman” since it was associated by them with dilettantism, while

another said that as a white person, I didn’t have the right to use the term. I

thought, on the other hand, that she had no right to determine how a

Siberian term is used, or to judge another person’s spiritual path. I am not

referring to myself as a shamanic practitioner in some magical sense, but as

a participant in a spiritual tradition found in every culture including my

own. Even a person who has not merged with their animal self, but who is

working with the three selves model, is working with the spiritual

technology of shamanism. That includes the psychological systems of Freud

and Jung. The three selves model is not at variance with the Bible itself. Christian

theologians, lacking real acquaintance with Hebrew, missed the fact that

three selves are defined in the first chapters of Genesis as the human self

(neshema), animal self (nephesh), and spirit (ruach).

However, the Church

Fathers derived a similar working model from Plato’s doctrine of the

tripartite soul, which consisted of three elements: Reason, Desire, and Will. This tripartite definition is standard Orthodox/Catholic doctrine down to the

present. Even within conventional Judaism and Christianity, we find the

shamanic model shining forth. In Seven Herbs: Plants as Teachers (1987) and again in Seven

Guideposts on the Spiritual Path (2021b), I outlined the extremely accurate

and detailed account of the shamanic path described in the Book of Genesis. When Harner told his experience with the reptilians to a local shaman,

the man laughed and declared that these beings were not the progenitors of

humanity, but only the Lords of the Outer Darkness. We’ll talk about the

role of the reptiles later on. Witchcraft and Paganism

When the Articles of Incorporation of the Town of Southampton,

established in 1640 on a wild, isolated shoreline in the New World, were drawn up, they included the following declaration taken from the early laws

of New England:

Witchcraft, which is a fellowship by covenant with a familiar spirit,

to be punished with death. (Cotton 1641, 10)

Proclamations like this make it clear that the authorities knew exactly

what witchcraft was—not herbalism or midwifery, or even psychic

interference with others—but full-fledged possession of a familiar spirit. Unfortunately, the application of the law was very imperfect and many

innocent people were put to death. In actuality, disciplined witches are

virtually impossible to detect because the animal self is highly protective of

the physical body and psychically protects the possessor, keeping opponents

away. This is true of both good and bad shamans—if they are disciplined. J. K. Rowling had it correct when she says the real witches largely escaped

the flames because the Muggle (non-magical) authorities couldn’t detect

them. I have not generally worked with material from the modern witch,

pagan, or neopagan movement, partly because I am not familiar with these

movements and partly because it is often presented as a “belief system”

rather than an experiential method. A notable exception is the

afortementioned work of R. J. Stewart in The UnderWorld Initiation. He

provides the key to unlocking the shamanic lore preserved in the Lowland

Scottish ballad tradition. What I call the “animal self” he calls the “co-

walker” or “companion.”

The companion spirit was well known in pagan and medieval times—

see Claude Lecouteux’s account in Witches, Werewolves, and Fairies:

Shapeshifters and Astral Doubles in the Middle Ages (2003).

He relates a

funny story about werewolfism at the end of the seventeenth century (2003,

118–20, 168–76).

A homeless man was brought up for prosecution before a

magistrate in Livonia for claiming to be a werewolf. The magistrate was

beside himself that someone could dedicate himself to the Devil, but the

man kept saying that he was fighting against the Devil. He claimed he had

to change himself into a wolf in order to get the seeds for the farmers from

the Devil, so that the farmers could plant them. Actual shamans (and witches) with familiar spirits were seldom caught

if they were careful and disciplined, because it is virtually impossible to sneak up on a person with an active, well-developed animal self. By its very

nature, as an animal, it is highly aware, more instinctive than humans, and

self-protective. It “goes before” the person, scanning the environment as

only an animal can do, disarming opponents through secret negotiations

with the weaker, unactualized animal selves of other people, in order to

protect the shaman and those in their sphere. The last description I can find in Europe of someone killing an

adversary with their doppelganger is from a seventeenth-century account

about the gentle Lutheran mystic Jacob Boehme (Okely 1780, 19–20).

He

was at a dinner party where a petty noble mercilessly tormented him

verbally for his spiritual opinions. Before allowing any kind of rebuttal by

Boehme or his friends, the man stormed off into the night. Boehme was so

angered he couldn’t stop himself. He told his friends he was ashamed of

what was going to happen. The next morning the man was found dead with

a broken neck; his horse had violently thrown him. What finished the magical worldview in the English-speaking world

was not the persecution of witches but the rise of modern science and

education. This is evident in the treatment of the Pennsylvania Dutch, who

still maintained a semi-medieval belief and practice of magic. Federal

educational standards annihilated the magical worldview, both in

Pennsylvania and in American Indian schools. The Spirit Molecule

Recently, a slight break in the wall of orthodox scientific opposition to the

shamanic worldview has occurred due to the study of the compound

dimethyltryptamine (DMT).

DMT occurs naturally in the brain, which even

seems to crave it, but it is in short supply unless it is artificially introduced

into the body via the traditional plant mixes used by shamans or by

psychiatric researchers. Most famous among these traditional brews are

Ayahuasca and psilocybin. So consistent are the experiences produced in

the laboratory with spiritual and otherworldly descriptions from around the

world, and from person to person within or outside the laboratory, that it has

been called the “spirit molecule” by psychiatric researcher Rick Strassman

(2001).

Because this molecule reproduces characteristic experiences of a

Spirit World it must now be scientifically admitted that such a world may exist—if in no other way than biochemically—within our brains. These

DMT experiences are often reported as profoundly life-changing, having

more “reality” than the world of science itself. Once again, we are reminded

that what happens in dreamtime can determine what happens in the material

world. Those who have been “touched by the spirit” don’t really care about

whether science has proven or disproven the existence of the Spirit World,

but for scientists it is an important development that gives them some

ability to observe “spiritual” and “otherworldly” experience. It is also

important to acknowledge this work because of its difficulty. Strassman had

to fight against legal and professional barriers (which are now receding

more and more) to conduct research with individuals taking DMT. We

should also thank the scores of volunteers in these studies. There is an important difference between the characteristic shamanic

experience (animal/human) and this research. The experience of turning

into an animal, or being torn apart or consumed by an animal, under the

influence of Ayahuasca, psilocybin, refined DMT, or other related

hallucinogenic substances is not commonly found in Strassman’s work. In

other words, these heroic explorations suggest the existence of spiritual

experiences similar to those found in many religions and are seldom

specific to the shamanic worldview. Hallucinogens do not necessarily

induce the experience of the animal self. 2

Spirit and Medicine

The eternal position of all things, independent of time,

without beginning or end, operates everywhere. It works

essentially where otherwise there is no hope. It

accomplishes that which is deemed impossible. What

appears beyond belief or hope emerges into truth after a

wonderful fashion. PARACELSUS, COELUM PHILOSOPHORUM

The first thing that can be said about the spirit is that it can’t be directly

seen, but is only visible in its effects. It is for this reason that the spirit is so

often likened to the wind in descriptions around the world. The language we

use to describe the spirit is therefore going to be metaphorical and

analogical, and that is the native tongue of the shaman: analogy,

comparison, and inference. That’s the second thing we can say about this

Mystery. The third assertion is that on any legitimate spiritual path there is

nothing more important than learning to recognize the effects of the spirit. The Spirit

Shamanism pursues realms of perception that range from the far-fetched to

the completely unknown. Within that spectrum something intelligent and powerful lurks that we do not interact with under ordinary circumstances. For lack of a better word, we can call it “the spirit.” It would be best not to

associate it with any particular religion or religious idea. We should really

not think of something higher or lower, inside or outside, personlike or

impersonal, religious or secular—but something that is completely

unknowable yet upon which one’s life depends. There is something out

there, beyond the theater of the mind, which is unknown but always

hovering nearby, beating its wings on our brain, trying to get through to us. At the beginning of his apprenticeship, don Juan said to Carlos that the

only thing “indispensable” for their activities was “the spirit” (Castaneda

1972, 9).

The activity of the spirit is essential in the pursuit of spiritual

transformation. Without it, there is no possibility of success. Part of the reason the word “spirit” is so poorly defined in our society is

that our culture dictates that serious people do not study or define the term,

or even talk about it, except in rather pedestrian phrases such as “team

spirit” or a “spirited horse.”

The psychiatrist E. Grahame Howe (1897–1975) was one of the only

members of his profession to advocate the study of the spirit in the mid-

twentieth century. He pointed out that while the king and the media

declared Britain would win the Second World War due to the “spirit” of her

armies and people, no one bothered to study what that meant. Imagine

basing the survival of one’s country and armies on something that is

undefined and unexamined?

Howe was eventually ostracized for asking

these kinds of questions. Our word spirit is related to words for breathing like respiration,

inspiration, and expiration. Inspiration is not limited to breathing in, but can

also mean that one is inspired by something—a person, art, music, or a

religious or spiritual experience; one has “breathed in the spirit.” Many

people feel called by an inner force to make sacrifices that go beyond the

needs of body and soul. They may have to follow a path that drags them

through tribulation and suffering. They may have to stand up for a truth that

is greater than themselves or help others at great personal peril. They may

have to “give up the spirit” (expire) to follow the calling (inspiration) of the

spirit. When we feel the ring of truth, we are required to take a stand. The

elements of truth, judgment, and courage pertain to the spirit. Since it is up

to us to accept our experiences as true or false, the spirit is also the great advocate of free will. Acting within us, it resonates with a calling from

beyond soul and body for a higher truth, freedom, and way of living. Throughout life, all of us are attracted to higher truth and vision. We are

incomplete until we know this spirit. We yearn for that mysterious part of

us, about which we know nothing at the start, but which slowly “fills in the

blanks.”

Shamanism may be described as a conglomeration of traditional

methods evolved throughout the world for seeking, experiencing,

developing, and defining interaction with the spirit. Even anthropologists

are willing to define the shaman as a “spiritual technician.”

Unfortunately, a lot of people identify shamanism with the tools and

articles associated with shamans in traditional societies. These external

items are relatively unimportant because the spirit shines in all times and

places, generating new language and tools as needed. If the item has been

empowered by the spirit then it is very important. When the spirit shows up in our world, it rocks our boat. It can’t stand

slavery and that’s why it is rarely seen in our world. But it will send smoke

signals from its abode in a faraway land. Most of the time we don’t even

notice the signals—the “whispering of the spirit”—and even when we do,

the whispers are so inconvenient that we ignore them. When there is a strong need for it, or when a person is imbued “with

spirit,” the power of the spirit can manifest in such a way that it seems like

a miracle; every miracle is a salute from the spirit to a dedicated and

favored son or daughter. As we progress along the sacred path and grow increasingly in harmony

with the spirit there is less and less need for suffering or mind-boggling

miracles. The best relationship is one of peaceful coexistence. As Hermes

says in the Hermetica:

To be able to know and to will and to hope is the straight and easy

way, appropriate to each, that will lead to the Supreme Good. When

you take that road, this Good will meet you everywhere and will be

experienced everywhere, even where and when you do not expect it;

when awake, asleep, in a ship, on a rock, by night, by day, when

speaking and when silent. (Salaman et al. 2000, 58)

Speech and Spirit

An interesting thing about the spirit is that it generates language. When the

perspective stands somewhat outside the bounds of ordinary conversation,

new terms are needed to express the experience. But it seems that there is a

special connection between the spirit and language. The repackaging of old concepts and experiences for new generations is

a constant refrain in spiritual tradition. Jesus remarked on this when he said,

“You can’t put new wine in old wineskins.” In keeping with this, he seldom

quoted old, worn-out passages of the Hebrew Bible but exploited literary

devices that were associated with Aramaic folk culture: parables,

similitudes, contrasts, parallels, and inferences. Ever since, of course, his

followers have been trying to stuff the new wine of human experience into

the “same old wineskins,” making Christianity boring. A similar observation was made by Rudolf Steiner (1995, 125): we

cannot allow “our cognitive growth in certain areas to be held in chains by

linguistic custom.” Unfortunately, I would not consider Steiner to be a good

representative of the creative use of language. I once complained to a

German-speaker that the translations of Steiner rendered him almost

unreadable and she replied, “Oh, you have to understand, he’s even worse

in the original—the translators try to make him more comprehensible than

he is in German!” On the other hand, Steiner generated many new ideas of

benefit to society, from agriculture to medicine. The gifts of the spirit come

in many forms. Another spiritual voyageur who understood the importance of language

was Terence McKenna, one of the early spokespersons of shamanism and

hallucinogenic consciousness-expansion, who remarked (2016): “The way

you stretch the envelope of culture is by creating language.” In another

lecture, he stated:

You are an explorer, and you represent our species, and the greatest

good you can do is to bring back a new idea, because our world is

endangered by the absence of good ideas. Our world is in crisis

because of the absence of consciousness. (McKenna 2010a)

We are the animal with the most highly sophisticated speaking ability. This gives us the opportunity to express aspects of the spirit that would otherwise not come into existence. The creativity therefore runs two ways:

from the spirit to the human and from the human to the spirit. Innovation and borrowing are as old as human culture. They are an

innate part of every society and are required in order for humanity to grow

and change. The “cultural appropriation” crowd seem to believe that

everything worth knowing is already a part of their culture so that it need

not appropriate ideas from other cultures. This shows how conceited and

biased they are: they are too good to acknowledge the importance of

another culture. Intolerance is built into the very bones of Western culture. Logic, a

dominant feature of Western speech and thought is innately judgmental. It

forces the listener to agree or not with “what is logical,” with “what is

right.” That creates an “us versus them” situation in which argued “truths”

determine who is right and who is wrong—and often, down through the

centuries, who lives and who dies. It is “colonizing” in the sense that other

societies have to be brought into the belief system. The argument by the

anti-appropriators is innately destructive to the cultures they pretend to

protect because it is based on a Western paradigm. Indigenous speech does not possess the syllogism (“If ...

, then ...”).

Aristotle says that Plato was the first to use it to obtain knowledge. The

Greeks contrasted the new logic with the old form of speech, which they

called * phasis , “describing the appearance of the phenomena.” A person

simply described what they saw, without making a conclusion. If they

wanted to expand on an idea, they made a comparison between two

observations through inference, analogy, contrast, or wordplays—in other

words, intuition, imagination, and new experience. The great representative

of the phasic method in Greek philosophy was Herakleitos the Dark. He

said: “the road up is the same as the road down”; this is an observation that

contains an inference. What does it mean?

Empires rise and fall. Childhood

gives way to adulthood and then old age. Life experiences repeat

themselves. There is no “right answer,” only an observation to ponder. Real Spiritual Experience

Due to this dry gulch of a culture, we live in a time when it is hard to find

spiritually experienced people. Or maybe it just seems that way. There are always people who get clobbered over the head by the spirit whether they

are interested in it or not. Fortunately, a lot of teachers are available in

Nature—in the fields and forests (stones, plants, animals).

Rudolf Steiner

said that if one could not find a human teacher, one could start with plants. George Gurdjieff said that if we were having trouble loving our fellow

mankind, we should start with plants, then animals, then people. The principle “when the student is ready, the teacher will appear” holds

true, but it is hard to “get ready” in a society with so few signposts. Real

spiritual experience is difficult to obtain. We don’t realize that we are

missing important connecting links between the human soul and the animal

self and we are missing virtually all the hardwiring for perception of the

Spirit World. At first we see the world through the physical senses. That innately

distorts spiritual experience, reinterpreting it into pictures of things we are

familiar with in the material world. We may have a “chance seeing,” as don

Juan called it—an unexpected profound spiritual experience where we are

touched by the authentic spirit ...

“That may be rare, but hard to miss it

when it happens,” commented a friend. Because of our innate inborn limitations, it is important for us to

develop the skills mentioned above—starting with observation of

experience, going on to intuitive evaluation, comparison, and inference, and

not overlooking imagination. Steiner maintains that some of the “petals” of

the “throat chakra” are conditioned by speech and require our attention in

order for that center to open up. That is an essential center, since it unifies

the human, the animal, and the spirit. As seekers we were like blindfolded people searching for something we

dimly sensed but never experienced before and cannot accurately imagine. The only reason we sense the existence of the spirit is because we feel that

we are incomplete in some way—but we don’t know how. Even

incompleteness has its purpose. Spiritual Seership

There is a great difference between psychism, or perception of psychic

phenomena, and true spiritual seership. The latter comes from an

overshadowing of the spirit. The person sees the truth, and when that person speaks, you know it is true. Susan was one of these people. Whether it was

about God or the waitress, it was true. Fortunately, she didn’t talk that way

all the time. Humans need to rest. Ordinary conversation, and even psychic

perception, does not give one the “sensation of truth.” Psychics—even the

good ones—are guessing and probing. Medicine

Nineteenth-century white authors spoke of “medicine men” and “medicine

women” among the American Indian people. Their practice of medicine

was similar to that of the white man. It utilized medicines, purges, diets, and

fasts. The Indian people therefore adopted the word “medicine” from their

conquerors. However, in picking up the word, they changed the definition

to fit their experience. After a long incubation in the Native world, the word

re-entered the now-dominant culture with new connotations. It took a long time for the invaders to understand the term in its new,

Indigenous incarnation. Awareness is not understanding. In 1950,

anthropologist Jaime de Angulo (a friend of Carl Jung) described the

concepts of dinihowi and damaagome held by the Pit River Indians of

northern California. He did not attempt to define the concept himself but

left it to his Native friends, or informants. “Some Indians translate it into

English as ‘medicine,’ or ‘power,’ sometimes ‘dog,’” wrote de Angulo

(1950, 340–41).

It was also translated as “luck.”

It was Robert Spring who first made me understand about the

dinihowi. “That’s what we Indians call luck. A man has got to have

luck, no matter for what, whether it’s for gambling, or for hunting,

for making love, for anything.” (de Angulo 1950, 345)

De Angulo couldn’t understand the difference between the dinihowi

obtained by an ordinary person and the damaagome obtained by a medicine

person. Spring replies:

“There is no difference. It’s all the same. Only the damaagome

that’s for doctors.” “How does the doctor get his damaagones?”

“Just like you and me get a dinihowi. He goes to the mountain. He

cries. Then someone comes and says, this is my song, I’ll help you.”

(de Angulo 1950, 346)

Spring went on to explain how a dinihowi or damaagome is obtained. A

young man might lose interest in regular life, go up in the mountains, and

wander for a while until he could “catch a dinihowi,” a blessing or a power

from a helpful animal or spirit in the wilderness (de Angulo 1950, 345).

Originally, I thought de Angulo allowed his informants to give their

own definition out of deference to their opinions, but I was shocked to read

that he simply did not understand what they were talking about. His

biographer, Andrew Schelling, explains (2017, 225):

Religion he discussed in many pages, throughout his writings on the

Achumawi (Pit Rivers) and others. He said he never found among

the Pit Rivers anything that corresponds with characteristics that

most people associate with religion. He found no belief in a supreme

being, no creation out of nothing, no priesthood, hierarchical

societies, rituals, or other elements of religion. Only the constant

interest in “power, power, power.”

What de Angulo did not understand is that this “power” comes from the

Spirit World and is in fact the basis of a sophisticated religion that is totally

experiential and not abstract, theoretical, philosophical, or theological. It

was totally unlike the religion he was familiar with in his own culture. If an

anthropologist like Jaime de Angulo couldn’t understand the meaning of the

word “medicine,” then who did?

In American Indian Medicine, ethnobotanist Virgil Vogel dodged the

bullet by quoting from an older anthropologist, George Bird Grinnell

(1849–1938): “All these things which we speak of as medicine the Indian

calls mysterious, and when he calls them mysterious, this only means that

they are beyond his power to account for” (1970, 25).

This is a pathetic

definition: the Indian people could not explain “medicine” because of the

limited vocabulary, experience, and preconceptions of white anthropologists

like Grinnell, who treated them like children. Medicine meant something

very concrete and experiential to the Native population. At the same time, it

also meant something mysterious. The Indigenous word for “spirit” in many

Native languages means “mystery.” This includes the Algonquin manitu or manido and the Dakota wakan. There is both a Great Mystery (Gitchi

Manito or Wakan Tonka) and little mysteries, or what we would call

“spirits.” Medicine is both a mystery and a concrete experience with

definite rules and obligations. I met Virgil Vogel; he stayed with my parents in the mid-1970s. He was

a good man and his inventory of American Indian medicinal plants and

practices is valuable. The fact that an honest, solid scholar in the field could

do no better than quote the vacuous, unenlightened statement of Grinnell

shows that even in 1970 the Indian concept of medicine was still generally

impossible for white people to comprehend. When the first book by Carlos Castaneda appeared in 1967 he used the

word “power” to translate whatever Spanish word don Juan used to describe

the invisible potency hidden in acts, perceptions, experiences, and Nature

all around us. Castaneda may well have been influenced by de Angulo,

whose anthropological career was also spent in California, where Castaneda

did his graduate work in the field. It is clear from the first few books by Castaneda that don Juan knew his

non-Indian student did not understand the concept. He resorts to stories,

analogies, and even uses the word “mysterious.” Castaneda never did use

the word “medicine.” In 1980, anthropologist Michael Harner still used the

term “power” in The Way of the Shaman. In 1976, Brad Steiger, a white author of popular esoteric books, entitled

a book Medicine Power. In this book, “medicine” is associated with what

would usually be called “psychic powers” in conventional white society. This is not what “medicine” actually is, but it is moving closer and it is

clear that Steiger respected the Indian people and felt there was something

important they were saying with the word “medicine.”

In the end it would be a Native author who finally bridged the gap. Sun

Bear grew up on the White Earth rez in northern Minnesota, a fairly

acculturated reservation with a large Métis population. His white wife,

Wabun, was a coauthor who also deserves some of the credit. In The

Medicine Wheel: Earth Astrology (1980) they explained that Sun Bear’s

people used the “medicine wheel” (a circle enclosing a cross) to arrange

knowledge. Sun Bear and Wabun used Western astrology as an analogy,

identifying the twelve signs of the zodiac with the twelve lunar months of

the Ojibwa calendar. Sun Bear and Wabun therefore moved the definition

away from the psychism of Brad Steiger toward a more archetypal foundation. The inference that a “medicine” is a spiritual power, not just an

archetype, also comes across. Fairly soon afterward, the full meaning of the

Native interpretation of “medicine” entered English vocabulary. Of course, we must remember that the term “wheel” is not innate to

Indigenous American culture, since the wheel did not exist in pre-

Columbian times. It was, however, a good metaphor in English for the

circle. The Native word for hoop would actually be the better translation; it

implies a wholeness that the term “wheel” does not. For instance, the

Lakota Holy Man Black Elk lamented that the “hoop” of his nation had

been broken, despite his best efforts as a representative of both the white

man’s church and his own Lakota spirituality. Medicine is at first unknown, unseen, and unimagined. It is a rumor. But

to those who have it or have seen it operate, medicine becomes increasingly

experienceable, unmistakable, and subject to reference and discussion. It is

an invisible substance that possesses power and produces visible effects in

the world. It bequeaths a person purpose or a path in life; a skill, talent, or

power; or a tool with power to make and change the conditions of life. Or it

is simple “luck” and opens doors. Although medicine is a power and gives power, a person must

acknowledge it and treat it with respect or it will abandon them. It is

idiosyncratic and almost temperamental, short on tolerance for error and

stupidity, yet loyal beyond what humans understand. Medicine power

follows definite laws and demands the same from us in return. Sometimes it

is useful and sometimes a nuisance. It can be misused but it cannot be

ignored. Medicine is artistic, creative, social, political, or medical. Or it is an

object, plant, animal, or person, or a vision, empowerment, transmission, or

dream. It does not arise from ordinary learning or information, but comes

from the spirit and therefore is essentially mysterious. At the same time, it is

quite familiar to the person who holds it or upon whom it acts. The more

one becomes acquainted with medicine, the more definite and identifiable it

becomes. A medicine power cannot be refused. A person can put off the

“appointment” for a long time, but it will always be hanging over their

head. When that alignment occurs, the spirit asks the person to do

something concrete in the world. A simple offering is seldom enough;

medicine is often a vocation or calling that changes the direction of life. It doesn’t matter if the person delays accepting the medicine, but if they reject

the calling, it kinks them up—messes up their energy; changes to bad luck. Without medicine, a person has no power, fate, or destiny, but if suppressed,

it is even worse, and if misused, it is a bane to the community. Some people feel the absence of medicine in their lives: the absence of

purpose, meaning, talent, skill, or ability. And they don’t know what to do

about it, don’t know a name for what they are missing, and don’t know how

to seek it. Western society is set up to cater to existence without internal

purpose. If people aren’t happy in the boring, superficial society they are

surrounded by, they are given drugs so that they can “function.” The idea of

self-fulfillment through inner exploration and discovery is not a part of

ordinary society. If people can’t get drugs from the doctor, they buy it on

the street. Most modern Western people don’t want to commit themselves to any

kind of spiritual power, good or bad. It takes courage to commit oneself,

even to evil. People prefer to live off the resources of the planet without

paying back. They do not realize that the situation we live in was set up

with a very careful balance that allows us to experience and choose between

the good path and the downward spiral. They are wasting time, resources,

opportunity, and the lives of other people. This type of oblivious self-

centeredness starts in neutral territory, but if it is persisted in over a length

of time, it creates a momentum that slowly pulls the person down. Robert Spring uses a term that is often found in association with

medicine. A person “cries” for the spirits to have pity on them and give

them a medicine. Have pity upon me, so I can have a life worth living. Internal emptiness heralds the search for medicine, as Robert Spring

says. Yearning, dedication, and exploration are often necessary, though

medicine can also arrive for no particular reason and can be carried down

through the bloodline, too. It may go to a child or grandchild, or even skip

multiple generations. However, the gift can lead to complications if the

following generation does not want it. Rejection of the spirit creates

troubles. Fortunately, there are several medicines that help us understand

and work out these kinds of problems. A person can also lose a medicine. If it is not treated with respect and

integrity, it can abandon the man or woman, or be taken away by more

responsible medicine-carriers in the person’s culture. One of my friends was

abusing drugs and alcohol and living on the street. One day he woke up to find a patch cut out of his jeans jacket, where he had stored a medicine that

was important to his people. A plant can be a medicine. The ability to correctly apply a plant to a

situation and heal is medicine. Medicine power may arise from worldly

study or experience or the teachings of an elder, but it is only real medicine

if the spirit shines in and through it, empowering it into a spiritual gift and

not just a low-level occupational skill. A healer with medicine can cure just

by being present or thinking about a case or recommending the right

remedy or doctor. In 2008 I was visited by the daughter of an old friend who had grown up

with me in the Quaker Meeting in Minneapolis. There was nothing

apparently wrong with her or her husband, but they had been infertile for

over seven years. I took a case history and recommended an herb. It took

them time to find the herb and before it arrived, the wife was pregnant and

nine months later delivered a healthy daughter. It may have been a matter of

mentioning or recognizing the right herb, but the situation changed and I

was given credit for the change. I appreciated that. It turned out the new daughter had a special medicine herself. People

commented on her “perspicacity”—the ability to have special insight into

things and choice of words. Her given name was Cassidy. A sort of “luck” follows a person with medicine, but this English term is

not an appropriate translation. English “luck” refers to a random benefit

dished out by the Wheel of Fortune, which is arbitrary in its distribution of

good and bad luck. A person can be born with medicine or acquire it on the death of an

older relative. This includes bad medicine. Even the reception of good

medicine can be trying and difficult. I have many times noticed people

encountering very bad to even overwhelming problems after the death of a

parent or relative. It can turn out that the parent was holding back energies

that were detrimental to the children, not allowing them to influence the

next generation, but not able to deal with them during life. The year

following such a death is a time to be very observant and careful about the

inner life of surviving relatives. A friend in her twenties was sitting with her father at his deathbed. He

had been an initiate of several different medicine societies in a pueblo

nearby, though he was not a member of the tribe. “Do you want my

initiations?” he asked his daughter. She innocently replied, “Yes.” After his death she received a massive download of silent knowledge. “I almost

died,” she said, and her “life was torn to pieces” over the next several years,

as she slowly integrated those lessons. She didn’t even join the societies,

only receiving the initiations on the inner level. “I’m a blabbermouth and

can’t keep secrets,” she explained, “so I just translate the information using

published mythology.”

The pueblo still considered her an esteemed elder. I was there when a

call from the pueblo came in, and did they hop when she gave them some

advice!

And her advice was tragically justified by subsequent events. In the old days, a young person who was particularly compatible with

an older teacher might go and study with him or her and marry into the

family. In ensuing generations the medicine is increasingly built into the

family genes. This was fine in the days when medicine power was

respected, but in modern society it is rejected. This can become destructive

to family life. A strange thing about medicine is that it travels from person to person,

even when one of the parties is dedicated to good while the other is

dedicated to evil. This is because the essential requirement for receiving

medicine is similarity of soul and spirit. The spirit does want good to

prevail, but because it guarantees free will it will not interfere, even when

medicine is being abused. But it sneaks up on a person and one day it levels

the playing field. A person can “buy medicine” from another. I don’t know whether this is

good or bad. For Christians it constitutes a sin called “simony,” described in

the Book of Acts in the Greek Bible. This is not necessarily a sin in Native

American society but I am too programmed by Western culture to be a fair

judge here. I was once offered the opportunity to “buy medicine” from one of my

deceased teachers in dreamtime, but my dream self automatically rejected

the offer. He was dedicated to evil—though I saw exceptions to this in his

work—and I didn’t trust his intentions while he was alive—so my dream

self did not trust him either. Also, medicines are suited to certain

temperaments and it is best to have medicine that is perfectly matched to

one’s disposition, not to that of another. And finally, I didn’t want to have to

go around putting food out for his energy body all the time because this

would keep him from processing his stuff in the afterlife. Medicine by its very nature can never be taken for granted. It’s actions

can never be fully predicated in advance and not always understood after

the event. It is mysterious and if we attempt to control it with our minds or

expectations it will either disappear or cause us unpleasantness until we can

learn. It is a delicate thing, yet powerful enough to make perceptual,

dimensional, and even social shifts. The world is full of Mysteries and

wonders and if we attempt to explain it all or think we can, it will become

boring and there will be no medicine, spirit, or spiritual life. Mystery must

be part of even ordinary life. Susan once spoke about this in a pipe

ceremony. There is a sacred turtle graveyard at the bottom of the ocean. Nobody knows why it is there: why they go there to die. It is a

Mystery. There will be Mysteries that will unfold as the world

changes. They will penetrate to the marrow of our bones. If

we are not ready, our bones will be shattered. We are a Mystery People. We are an Eternal Truth/Beauty/Mystery

People—when we let the spirit have its way with us. It will meet us

everywhere: on land, in the boat, speaking or staying silent, but more than

anything else, it likes impossibility and Mystery and here it will meet us

most graciously. Don Juan told Carlos that when one has accepted one’s destiny without

recrimination, one gains “power”—in other words, medicine. When we stop

resisting who we are, medicine will start to walk by our side, like a faithful

dog. One of Castaneda’s students, Florinda Donner, wrote a book called The

Witch’s Dream (1985) about the bizarre contortions of destiny that are

possible. A true spiritual vocation is demanding: there is power in such a

life, as well as fulfillment, but there can also be tremendous suffering. Donner’s book is a bit terrifying. Drawing on these different sources, we can say that medicine arises

from the ability to walk the path with beauty and heart in certainty,

satisfaction, humility, and wonder, fulfilling the design that spirit has for

each one of us. Medicine is still being misunderstood. One of the best commentators on

Carlos Castaneda stated that “personal power” develops as a result of the

actualization of the dream self. While it is true that medicine arises out of the Spirit World, it is not true that one needs to develop a full-fledged dream

self to receive it. This is too narrow a definition and a misrepresentation of

a widespread Native American concept/experience found almost

everywhere in the Western Hemisphere. One of my Native friends thanked

me for pointing out the misinterpretation so I pass have to pass it on; the

commentator was not an inhabitant of the Western Hemisphere. Here is a bizarre story about medicine. There were some old storefronts

in South Minneapolis that had been condemned in order to make way for

the building of the American Indian Center. They were usually closed but I

noticed an old man inside one of them and presumed it was open for

business. Yes, he waved his hand across the room full of debris, everything

was for sale. His hand was heavy and he looked tired. I was interested in

some architectural drawing tools. “Oh, those aren’t for sale,” he said. Some little Indian boys pounded on the front door and ran away. “I hate

Indians,” he said. He had just come out of heart surgery and I guess he had

something he wanted to pass on. “Yeah, I only ever met one Indian I liked. It was back in the Depression. I was a kid. Each day I’d pick up shoes at a

warehouse and peddle them from door to door. I was at a gas station when

this sleek young Indian man came in with a brand new Pierce-Arrow and a

girl on his shoulder like an Indian princess. He challenged everyone in the

garage to play dice with him. In five minutes he had every penny in that

place. Yeah, that was a good Indian.”

I was shocked to hear such a blatantly racist story told to a stranger (me)

but even more shocked to hear an account of medicine from the old man. It

was like it was pressed out of him just for me and I have never forgotten it. Here’s an example of a medicine I acquired myself. The spirit can be

present in the little, humble objects of creation as well as in beautiful,

spectacular, or large matters. Also, one need not go on vision quests or even

look for a medicine. When it comes, however, one must recognize it and

take action to keep it. One definitely also has the right to reject a medicine

gift. It might seem too onerous to take on. However, this was a nice gift. Early one morning I drove a friend to the dental surgeon so she could

have a ride back after the anesthesia. Who wants to sit around in an oral

surgery clinic?

Instead I stood outside in the cool Minnesota air, pushing

some little landscaping pebbles around on the sidewalk with my foot. It

gave me something to do to push them back onto the place where they were

supposed to be. “Wow,” I exclaimed to myself as my foot connected with a little pebble

that was clearly a conscious being. Did I kick it across the lawn?

No, it was

a conscious being and it would have been cruel to consign it to anonymity,

so I picked it up and put it in my pocket. I still have it today. It turned out there was more to this Mystery than I knew at the time. Several years later I ran across a Dakota teaching about the witai stone. This

is a stone that is alive and conscious. When a person finds one, it gives

them the right to set up an altar. We can see why this would be the case: the

witai stone indicates that one can respond to the life inside the natural

world, and that means one can act as a mediator between the Living Nature

and exiled humanity. One day I was walking down the street with a friend in a large West

Coast city. Both of us noticed that the enormous shade tree on the boulevard

was conscious. It was truly shocking. Neither one of us had ever

experienced anything like that before, but that is the way it is with

medicine: it is here and not there, there and not here. The gifts of the body,

soul, and spirit are not equally dispensed across Nature. Some things have

medicine while others do not. Some awake, some asleep. Just like people. *This is the translation by my late friend Robert Schmidt. He gave the usual translations as “appearance,” “description,” and “phenomena.”

3

The Shaman’s Explanation

In esoteric tradition there is no such thing as

unconsciousness. R. J. STEWART, THE UNDERWORLD INITIATION

Experiences that the soul has during sleep are in a sense

illuminated by the power acquired by the perceiving

human soul if it develops...

Imagination, Inspiration and

Intuition. RUDOLF STEINER, THE WORLD OF THE SENSES

AND THE WORLD OF THE SPIRIT

Mircea Eliade (1964) described the psychological profile of the shaman and

this work has been largely accepted by mainstream anthropology. Very

often a person becomes disenchanted with society. He or she withdraws

from friends, family, society, and normal activities. The dissatisfaction is

often so profound that the person may even feel a deep disaffection with the

human condition itself. Sometimes the problem manifests as an organic

disease. Sometimes solace is found in lonely or wild places. (Conversely,

some people throw themselves into consciousness-reducing experiences—

sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll—to try to blunt the calling.) Eventually, a crisis

develops that brings the disenchantment to a head: the person feels suicidal or doomed, or health problems threaten life, or avoidance causes too much

pain to be ignored. A near-death experience is a frequent precipitating

factor, making a person look at mortality and whatever lies beyond the

body. This can lead to the alienation or inspiration necessary to go beyond

accepted social norms to confront life’s deeper questions. Some people fail to deal with their problems constructively. However,

those who do come back from the brink of hopelessness, insanity,

alienation, destruction, or death are changed, renewed, and strengthened. Often they feel they have been “touched by the spirit” or have gained a new

“vision” or guidance arising from outside the ordinary social order. Frequently, they want to work with this vision to bring it into social

awareness—though some separate themselves from society. Some are

socially constructive and some are socially withdrawn. Some are viewed as

special in some way—whether good or bad often depends on the society. The shamanic predisposition exists everywhere. There is no boundary of

place, people, or time that prevents it. The discontent, disease, disorder, or

“bad luck” that leads to the deep alienation so typical of the calling can

happen to anyone, anywhere. Even those with good health, luck, wealth,

and social standing are not immune from the calling; though generally

social and financial success are going to cover up the whisper of the spirit. If those who feel this calling are able to persist on their path—and not all of

them can—they are not necessarily going to find happiness, success,

recognition, or acceptance within modern society, nor satisfy the demands

of most of their family, friends, and neighbors. They are not going to be a

“success” in a conventional sense. Society does not support them. In

biomedicine, there is a psychiatric category for every manifestation of the

shamanic crisis—and drugs to suppress the symptoms. The shamanic calling represents a real existential crisis. Some people

work out a solution to their predicament. They plumb the depths of the

human condition, free themselves from whatever it is they distrust or dislike

in society or humanity itself, find whatever it is they need to lead a self-

fulfilling life, and overcome this “disorder.” It doesn’t matter whether

Western culture has declared that these people are not shamans and that

shamanism doesn’t exist, or it has labeled them with a psychiatric illness. These people, in every culture, have died, gone to another world, gained a

renewing vision, and returned to enrich society—or be scorned by it. Because it is a disorder that is an expected part of the path, the chaos

out of which a new order arises, I call this not a “personality disorder” but

the “shamanic personality order/disorder.” It is a condition native to the

human species and therefore to every culture in the world. The tools and practices of traditional shamanism—drums, rattles, rock

paintings, and various objects—are not the defining characteristics of the

shaman. This is not a book about totems, drums, rattles, astrology, or the

tarot. It is a book about the inner life of the shaman, the purpose of which is

the actualization of our threefold Frankensteinian psyche: animal, human,

and unfathomable. It takes inner power and confidence to reject the narcotic pull of societal

normality. Where does this come from?

To what does the social outlier

adhere that gives him or her the ability to believe in and practice something

that is so different?

Is it merely a matter of ignorance?

Are we only people

adhering stubbornly to a naive and foolish worldview because we are

mentally ill, deluded, or “primitive”?

No. It is the power of a genuine calling and its ultimate source is

something that comes from beyond society altogether and has more power

than society. To resist consensus opinion, one must not only believe in an

alternative truth, one needs to be commanded by it. One has to develop

oneself in the direction pointed out by the spirit. Although each person’s path is different, there is only one shamanic

method. Instead of transcending earth and body (which is the idea in many

religious and spiritual traditions), on the shamanic path body, Nature, and

Animal are the route to the spirit. This will sound antithetical to conventional religionists, who, for

thousands of years, have been fighting against body, Nature, the Wild, and

the Animal within. There really is no satisfying answer to this conflict: the

Wild is innately inconvenient and scary. Nature is ever-changing; not

eternal or infinite. The animal world hardly seems like a source for God-

knowledge. Nature and body are rejected as detrimental to the spiritual

quest. But not in shamanism. Treading the path of inner development requires a death in one’s

relationship to society and the social delusions we carry within us—but also

a rebirth to a personhood not based on social approval or acceptance. We

will not be in control when we are swept into the abyss of the unknown,

where alone we will be tried and renewed as a spirit by the spirit. Here is a story from one of my herb clients. He was a total

psychological mess, on benzodiazepines and several other psychiatric

medications when he was arrested for a warrant he had already paid and

thrown in jail. He was cold-turkeyed off the drugs—many people die from

sudden withdrawal from “benzos” and he was having up to ten seizures a

day while suffering severe mental illness. When he got out of prison he was

put back on meds, but a relative reported to the psychiatrist (incorrectly)

that he was abusing them, so he was cold-turkeyed again. He decided never

to take another psychiatric drug: if “the system” could wrench him around

like this, he wasn’t safe. Instead, he started “self-medicating” on a bottle of

brandy a day. Finally, he decided on to end his life and said goodbye to his

support system—an aunt and his mother. Two days later he was arrested on

another warrant and thrown in jail. “I prayed to Creator for help,” he said. “What else could I do?

I’d

prayed before but I was never answered by an actual voice saying words.”

This time there were very precise words. The first thing Creator asked was:

“Do you want to live?” “No,” he answered honestly, “I don’t want to.”

Creator continued in a clear voice: “Well, how about if I were to help you?

Would that make a difference?” He thought about that—decided it would be

okay. He and Creator came to an agreement. “It was like an actual contract;

I’d do my part and Creator would do his.”

The man was sentenced to three years in prison. Most of the time he

stayed in his cell, meditating and processing his personal baggage. He

didn’t go out in the yard much, to avoid getting stabbed. “I liked being in

prison,” he said. “It was a cakewalk compared to my life before.” Other

prisoners would exclaim, “Hey, how come you’re smiling?” He couldn’t

help it. “I was happy. And let me tell ya—everyone in prison is miserable.”

Another story was related to me many years ago by a woman who

operated under the designation “herbalist” but was also a shaman. Her

Jewish family had been forced to leave Russia by violence but her

grandmother had remained behind because she was the village shamaness—

the Baba Yaga—and felt a duty not to abandon her people, though they

were not necessarily Jews. Finally, she left and emigrated to New Jersey. The woman telling the story got very sick when she was twelve years old. The doctors gave up. This was in the late 1950s, when there was less that

doctors could do. Her grandmother said to her parents, “Give her to me and

I will cure her, but she must live with me until her adulthood and you will have no claim over her.” So she went to live with her gramma and was

trained in shamanism and herbalism. Don Juan speaks of the “sorcerer’s explanation.” Here we’ll study the

“shaman’s explanation”—the theory of the three selves. We see this in

religion (spirit, soul, and body) and psychology (ego, id, superego).

Freud

Freud famously named them the ego, id, and superego. The most ancient of

these is the id, which “above all,” he says, is identified with the instincts. These “originate from the somatic organization,” which is to say, from the

body. “The sole prevailing quality of the id is that of being unconscious. Id

and unconscious are as intimately linked as ego and preconscious” (Freud

1969, 2).

In other words, the id is the self of the unconscious in the same

way the ego is the self of the conscious world. This center of “instincts,” the

id, is what we identify as the animal self in shamanism. For Freud, the superego is a projection created by our programming

about good and bad, right and wrong: God, moral codes, political

correctness, and so on. It influences us “from above,” so to speak, as if it

were a superior being, with superior knowledge of right and wrong. Freud

did not teach the actual existence of any kind of higher being, because this

would not have been “scientific.” But also, frankly, he was correct: until we

meet the spirit, we have only an idealization of higher knowledge or the

higher self. Freud’s model correlates with the age-old mythos of the three “worlds”

or “selves”: lower, middle, and higher. Jung, the leading psychiatric voice

of the following generation, advocated a fourfold layout of the psyche

based on the universal mythos of four directions. Sadly, the two had a

falling-out and could not get along with each other or see the importance of

the other’s model. At one point, Jung commented that he did not even

bother to familiarize himself with Freud’s theory of the id, ego, and

superego. He interpreted any threefold system as a fourfold system that was

incomplete!

When these two viewpoints are brought together, the underlying model

of psychiatry and psychology can be seen to be complete and in line with

the mythic structure of the world as seen in almost all traditional societies. There are seven primal directions: lower, middle, and higher, and at the

same time we live in a world of four “directions” or “elements.” Our middle

self, our conscious self, is comprised of a body (sensation), emotions

(feelings), intelligence (thinking), and intuition/inspiration. These are Jung’s

four “functions”; when they are actualized, a person is well-rounded. This inner landscape exactly reflects the outer landscape. When Freud

and Jung are integrated, even Western culture can claim a connection to

mythological wholeness. Jung dealt with the three levels by describing some psychological

experiences as “autochthonous” (of the earth) and “numinous” (of the

divine or spirit) but he didn’t reference the mythology of three levels or

worlds the way he did the four functions. It is a bit disconcerting. Where Freud emphasized the psychology of mental illness, Jung put

psychology to work on behalf of self-actualization. One of the first and

most necessary aspects of self-development, according to Jung, is

confronting one’s “shadow,” a projection of everything that we fear and

hate. The superego is a projection of everything we think of as good, while

the shadow is the projection of what we think of as bad. Here is a good

example of a shadow experience from my own life:

I first contracted coronavirus in March 2020.

One night it hung

over me while I lay in bed in the dark, like a black ectoplasm

beaming hatred at me. After half an hour I spontaneously

asked a question: “How come you hate me so much?” The

answer was instantaneous: “I’m everything that you hate.”

At first I thought, I’d better be careful not to hate anyone. After a few months I thought, But there are a lot of things

people do that I think I am right to hate. Within a year, society

was full of hatred: vaxxers versus nonvaxxers, Left versus

Right, and Right versus Left. Then there was war...

and more

war. It was like an evil genie had been let out of a bottle—and

the bottle was us. This is an eruption of what Jung called the “collective shadow.” Before

the beginning of the Second World War, he sensed a spreading hatred and

fear projected onto “the Other,” engulfing the continent. Both superego and shadow need to be passed in order for the shamanic

student to step over the threshold, on the journey of self-actualization. They

are the flipsides of the same entity. The shadow is described in occult literature as the “Guardian of the

Threshold.” It was named by Edward Bulwer-Lytton in Zanoni (1842) and

the term was then used by Helena Blavatsky, Arthur Edward Waite, Rudolf

Steiner, and George Gurdjieff. Another term is “Dweller on the Threshold.”

Rudolf Steiner says that there are two Guardians. The first one is the

animal self while the second one, if we get that far, is a nonhuman entity

from the Spirit World. Castaneda reports that when he saw his own animal

self, Coyote, he also saw an inorganic being—and don Juan made it clear

that he had an appointment with this entity. We need to actualize our animal part. We think so highly of ourselves,

but our best traits—heart-love, family life, and dreaming—all originated in

the mammalian life-wave. Dreamtime is accessible to us only because we

are part animal, not because we are part human. An evolutionary biologist,

Elisabet Sahtouris, explains (2000, 156):

We are still not sure why warm-blooded animals dream during

sleep. Sleeping and dreaming are special behaviors that evolved in

mammals and were passed on to their descendants, yet no one

knows why. We see, hear, taste, smell, and touch due to our animal senses, not

because we are humans. It is the same way in the spiritual world. We have

senses there only because we acquire them from the animal part of us. Ironically, rather than diminishing our humanity, by conjoining with our

animal self we become complete human beings. The ancient Mayan culture

defined the shaman who had actualized his or her animal self (uayob) as:

an authentic human being (Gillette 1997, xvii).

Anatomy of the Three Selves

Components of the psyche that are competitive with each other for time and

energy must to a greater or lesser extent qualify as independent entities or selves. From this perspective, not only are there three selves, but there are

some sub-selves that show independence within this threefold system. Conscious Self

The human or conscious self can be split into four components. Part of us

wants to be conscious at all costs (“I don’t want to go to bed”), part wants

to eat, drink, and have sex all the time, diminishing consciousness if

necessary. Another wants to fulfill social expectations (the persona, the

mask we put on for other people), while another wants to fulfill personal

values and self-development (the soul).

A fifth component unites and rules over these four fractious pieces of

consciousness: the ego. Ego (composite and ruler of):

Conscious self

Biological self

Persona

Soul

The soul is the part of us that knows we are mortal and grieves death in

advance, but also celebrates the joys of life. Animal Self

We can split the animal self into a warm-blooded component and a cold-

blooded or reptilian self. The former is partly unconscious (the id) but

partly conscious when we are examining our loves and relationships. The

latter is normally unconscious but bursts into consciousness—almost

dominating us—when we are in survival mode. Reproductive mode follows

close behind. Therefore, the reptilian self shows up among the entities

composing the human self—I labeled it the “biological self.”

When the body is alive it is energetic, or full of vitality and energy that

can be directed toward various goals. This is called the vital force in

alternative medicine, the etheric body in Western occultism, and the energy

body by don Juan. It is associated with vegetative existence. When a person

is a “vegetable,” in a coma, we are looking at a pure expression of the vital,

etheric, or energy body. This is what acupuncture works on. The cold-blooded animal self works with the energy body. Whenever

there is danger, the energy shifts abruptly. Mostly, however, the energy

body is in “homeostasis,” trying not to shift. Therefore, the energy body,

vital self, or vegetable part of us corresponds to the plant world. The perfect

symbol of the symbiotic relationship between the biological self and the

vegetable self is the caduceus of Asclepius: a snake (or two snakes)

climbing up a green leafy branch. The plant world is characterized by the fixation of attention on one

particular setting: the expression of the genome of the plant. In addition to

providing the energy for life, and its homeostatic steady state, the vital body

also serves as a sensory system for “energy shifts.” It reacts to any strong

emotional/physical stimulus. The actual mechanism is a quantum change in

the electric charge on the polymers in the extracellular matrix, which

controls all cellular activity simultaneously. The polymers don’t act like

nerves, moving electrons along their courses; rather, they store electrons

and discharge them or take them up—so their method is more like a “shift”

than a nerve current. This is called the “ground regulatory system.” I

explained about it in Holistic Medicine and the Extracellular Matrix

(2021a, 2–5).

Alfred Pischinger, M. D., the discoverer of this mechanism, discussed it

with some anthroposophical doctors and they agreed that it explained what

they called the “etheric body.” Additional research showed that the ground

regulatory system is what is affected by acupuncture needles. Although the

existence of meridians could not be proven, the points are consistent with

deformations in the matrix polymers (see Pischinger 2007).

The energy body remembers anything that caused an energy shift and

therefore constitutes the “body memory.” There is no way to heal without

reliving the body memory. The caduceus is therefore the perfect symbol for

the medical craft. The green leafy stem relating to the vegetable world,

including nutrition and herbal medicine; the snake to the nervous system

and the survival and sexual instincts that provide the big imprints on the

body memory (while also personifying spinal manipulation, massage, and

therapies that address the nervous system).

The energy body is not a self or self-conscious or it would interfere with

the fixation of consciousness in all the selves. The plants are entities

because they have fixed self-awareness of who they are within their world,

and they can share that awareness with us. Their awareness is fixated on their basic identity; they can’t change focus from one thing to another, like

an animal or a human. The mineral body—the molecules—did not originally possess

consciousness, but when we descended into matter, our conscious self was

overwhelmed by the physical senses, so that we identify ourselves with the

things we experience through the senses. Some people even think that there

is no consciousness after the death of the body. After the “incident in Eden,”

when the frontal brain and the reptilian brain merged, our survival and

reproductive instincts became highly dominant within us and plunged our

awareness into a nearly complete existence in the mineral realm. This is

where the reptile beings seen by Michael Harner were correct. They did

create us in a sense—by changing the course of our evolution—and they

have dominated us ever since. Because there was now consciousness in and

through the mineral level, the beings responsible for this shift had to

descend with us down into the dust. Also, because they ruled over us—we

took our “prime directive” from them—they were attracted down into

matter with us. They became the conscious beings in the mineral realm. I’ll

try to explain this when we get to the part about Dragons. Freudian Id (composite and ruler of):

Animal self (warm-blooded)

Biological self (reptilian, cold-blooded)

Energy body

Mineral body

Spirit Self

According to esoteric teachings, the spirit of an individual is split into three

parts: the atma (primal particle of differentiation), the archetype

(individuality), and the spirit body or dream self. As I understand the

teachings, the atma is unchangeable, while the archetype can slightly

change under the influence of life experience in the physical realm. The

dream self is the sensory body of the spirit self. Spirit Self (consists of):

Atma

Archetype

Dream Self

The Assemblage Point, Egoic Will, or Fetch

What we have not addressed is the capacity of humans and other beings to

change the focus of their awareness. This is with us in waking and in

dreamtime, so it cannot be identified with any one of the selves, but brings

them to attention without having an innate identity of its own. It is simply

the mechanism of focus. It shifts from one focus to another, although we are

not aware of any break in the continuity of our perception in the ordinary

world. In dreamtime its true nature is brought forward: we shift from image

to image, or situation to situation. This ability to “shift” suggests a connection to the energy body and the

vegetable world, where identity is extremely fixed, yet possible of

movement. Under normal circumstances it takes a couple hundred thousand

years to create a new species.* This gives us some idea of how difficult it is

to change focus and why we don’t voluntarily change that easily. Don Juan called this mechanism the “assemblage point.” When it is

focused, the “tumblers click,” as Susan said. The ability to move the

assemblage point from one click to another is defined as “intent” by don

Juan, while the ability to maintain a fixation he calls “will.” In order to

experience otherworldly places, we must intend the assemblage point to

move to those places and then fix upon them. It is very hard for modern

people, such as myself, to move very far from the established reference

points of the modern focus. Susan could do this better than anyone I ever

met. The assemblage point is pretty much the same as what we call “gall” or

“egoic will” in English. In Chinese folklore and medicine it is called the

hun and is located in the gallbladder. Because we are self-conscious through

and in our I-self or ego, we think of the assemblage point as the “egoic

will.” The hun and the po (the mortal self, the awareness of mortality) are

considered two “soul parts” in Chinese culture that unify to become our

fully developed human self. They are roughly equivalent to the ego and the

soul. An archaic English name for the assemblage point is the fetch, since it

“fetches” the contents of the unconscious, whether from the memory,

imagination, or dream and brings the content before the screen of

consciousness. In an Old English glossary from around the year 800, the

word fæcce (presumably the antecedent of “fetch”) is given as an equivalent for mære, “nightmare.” This points to a connection with the animal self:

when it is agitated it produces nightmares. After death, the fetch becomes

the “shade” that exists in the Underworld, keeping a record of all the

focalizations of the consciousness that occurred during the lifetime. The

term “fetch” is still actively used by some pagans and witches. The

Hawaiian term unihipili refers to the animal self and the shade. A good word here is doppelganger, or “double.” This refers to the

complex of the etheric body and the animal (warm- and cold-blooded) self

detaching from the physical body and operating as a separate entity. The

reptilian is referred to as the “lower astral” in Theosophy and

Anthroposophy; the warm-blooded as the “higher astral.” This separation

from the physical body and the human and spiritual elements is

counterproductive before the actualization of the animal self. In healthy

circumstances, the doppelganger “goes before a person,” sensing trouble, so

that the person is protected by it. In order to be able to move the assemblage point with intention, we

have to face our ingrained fear of the non-ordinary. It is pretty much

impossible for the assemblage point to make a large shift without scaring

the survival-based reptilian self. The old shamans were able to shapeshift

and change dimensions, but these shifts of the assemblage point are so far

from our habitual focus in the modern conscious world that they are

difficult for modern people to experience. Spiritual transformation itself requires a shift of the assemblage point. As long as this occurs under the control of the ego, the shift is worthless to

the spirit, which demands that we go beyond our ego. When we dream of

our animal self and awaken the dream self, we experience the first big shift,

so this primal event that defines shamanism also involves the actualization

of the assemblage point. After the death of the physical envelope, the ego dissipates, but the

fixations of attention that occurred during the life can never fade because

they come from the assemblage point, which is ageless, timeless, and active

in every dimension. Therefore, the egoic fixations remain as a record of the

life of the individual—this is called the “shade” or “shadow” in folklore. It

goes down into the Underworld after the death of the physical body and

remains as a permanent record. The Hawaiian word unihipili is also associated with the bones. The

relationship between the bones and the lifetime of shifts of the assemblage point is mentioned by Rudolf Steiner (2014, 65):

I do not want to overfeed you with the results of clairvoyant

research, but this is truly interesting, namely that through the

raying out of our bones as they disintegrate, the human being

everywhere leaves behind him, as it were, images, spiritual

pictures perceptible to Imagination. The assemblage point exists on the physical level because things exist

there, but it only begins to move on the vegetative level. The bones are our

minerality and are therefore associated with the shade that goes down into

the Earth, to preserve the record of our life. But they are also associated

with the mineral element and as such they connect us to the Dragons. We’ll

save this matter for later. Due to the “incident in Eden,” or the placement of the human will over

the will of Creator, our souls have ceased to be eternal creatures—these,

like our bodies, are subject to death, as Genesis says. This is not just a

physical death but the extinction of our human self, to the extent we did not

learn to identify our souls with the eternal opportunities of the Spirit World

that eclipse mortality. The purpose of shamanism as a spiritual path is to

reunite the individual soul with the spirit self. This is also, of course, the

goal of all genuine religious or spiritual application. To the extent this

occurs, the soul is immortalized. To the extent it doesn’t, the soul is mortal. Interactions of the Three Selves

According to the shaman’s explanation, we are animals with the addition of

a human part that accounts for one basic thing: the ability to consciously

select and fetch thoughts and images in the mind. This makes us self-aware

and able to develop the imagination, or the ability to perceive, see, and

study the pictures in our mind. Animals can’t consciously select the

contents in their minds. Indeed, we can barely do it ourselves. This ability

to change our focus in the imagination marks us as human. An

extraordinary, magical secret is hidden in the association of the imagination

and the human: we are human because we have imagination and by

changing the focus of the imagination to a new click of the tumblers, we

perform “magic.”

Image-seeing is an attribute of the animal life-wave and differentiates

the animals, even the most primitive, from the plants. The connection

between a human and the animal linked to them in the dream world is like

the deepest bond of friendship one could experience. The two are

independent of each other and yet inextricably connected. The animal self

contributes the sensory portion of the combination while the human gives

the ability to focus and change the image. Neurologists believe that our emotions start as the simple instincts and

sensations of animals—safe, unsafe, pleasure, pain—and, as they come to

consciousness, they are articulated into more rational conceptions that

“make sense” to our more sophisticated and complex minds. So our heart

comes from Animal in addition to our senses. Our physical body is an animal; it is equivalent to the animal self. We

think of it merely as a collection of molecules and chemicals, but the body

is a collection of neurological pathways and behavior patterns, which gives

us an overall appearance, so that in addition to the “human look” we also

have the look of an animal. This “look” is not just skin deep; it reflects the

animal intelligence running the body, and the body is our own personal slice

of Nature, through which we communicate with greater Nature. The mystery is in the body and the way the body works itself into

nature. (Terence McKenna)

The triad in Meso-American nagualist shamanism is the tonal, yollo,

and nagual. These are more or less equivalent to what I have been

describing as the ego, soul, and animal self. Castaneda had difficulty

dealing with the human heart, so his account of don Juan’s teachings

usually only touch on the tonal and the nagual. However, don Juan clearly

stated that there are three “riddles” we need to solve to unlock human

nature. They correspond to the tonal, the yollo, and the nagual. Sometimes

he very eloquently did talk about the importance of the heart and he did

consider it coequal with the other two. We’ll look at these terms in greater

detail in chapter 5.

Only the actualization of all three will allow a person to become whole. The occultist Gottfried de Purucker said of the body, soul, and spirit (1932,

124): “these three bases spring from three different lines of evolution, from

three different and separate Hierarchies of being....

This is the reason why man is composite.” When the three selves are actualized, they will be found

to be discrete entities, independent from each other and yet cooperative. Merilyn Tunneshende succinctly describes the situation in Twilight

Language of the Nagual (2004, 80): “I had been three different beings or

had lived three different lives as the same being, or had seen life with three

eyes, each with its own identity.”

A good literary illustration of the body, soul, and spirit would be the

three main characters in J. K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series. Hermione

represents the rational mind, the more material perspective, the rule-

follower, the ego, and the personality. She is literalistic about rules, rational

about explanations, and down-to-earth about study and work. She doesn’t

hide her egotism about her accomplishments and Harry and Ron find her

obnoxious when they first meet her. The discipline of education and

learning, however, opens her up to a greater and greater perspective. Ron

represents the soul. He is not very good with reasoning and he suffers from

low self-esteem—the emotional qualities of the soul make him more

vulnerable. However, he warms up life for the other two, interjecting humor

and breaking up their overly serious preoccupations. He possesses a certain

earthy understanding of how the world works, though he seldom possesses

the confidence to stand up for these perceptions. The outer and inner selves

need to learn to function in harmony. Therefore, Hermione and Ron are

always drawn to each other and eventually become an item. Hermione

increasingly looks to and values Ron for his heart. Harry, on the other hand,

represents the spirit. He is not very often drawn into the competing interests

of the ego or the personalities around him. He looks for the higher, spiritual

demands of situations and helps to bring higher purpose forward in other

people. His actions are magnanimous and high-minded. By following the

noble path, he becomes a hero and yet, because he is innately disinterested

in personality issues, Harry seldom thinks of the egoic benefits that accrue

from his actions. It is primarily when what he knows to be true is not

respected or believed by others that he gets angry, frustrated, hurt, or

disengaged. His perception cuts to the core of the situation; knowledge

comes to him in realizations and flashes of intuition. Hermione actively

disapproves of this type of mentation, while Ron wavers in uncertainty but

generally believes Harry and tries to be supportive. Harry always functions

at his best when his two friends are with him and getting along reasonably

well. In the end his sacrifices drag him out of the realm of personal comfort. Like the shaman, he embraces death but survives to bring healing to his

community. The three primary selves cannot be completely integrated into one. We

would not want Ron to lose his sense of humor, Hermione to abandon her

sharp-edged mind, or Harry to lose his inspiration. The three selves have to

be streamlined into a single functioning triad, but the independence and

talents of each must never be eradicated. It is because the seams never disappear that rumors of shapeshifting,

bilocation, and magic follow the shamans. These are not just evidence of

the skills of a great shaman: they represent seams between the different

selves that cannot ever be completely hidden. We are part human, part

animal, part plant, part mineral, and part spirit. As Steiner remarks (1914,

43): “Occult science, therefore, represents man as a being composed of

many principles.”

Both traditional shamanism and occultism describe a basic set of seven

worlds or planes of existence that students must experience in order to

move beyond the confines of this world. These are the seven rungs on the

shamanic ladder, referred to as “Jacob’s ladder” in Genesis. I already wrote

about the seven guideposts on the spiritual path in Seven Herbs (1987) and

Seven Guideposts on the Spiritual Path (2021b).

The Gnostics taught that there were seven demons that imprisoned us in

the world. According to others, there are Seven Powers or Spirits to whom

the evolution of the planet was entrusted by Creator in the beginning of

time. We are under their power, but they were not created to hold us

prisoner. They are simply doing their job. It is we who have fallen under

their imperium in an oppressive sense, due to our own actions and our

misapprenhension of who they are. They don’t even like to be around us;

we always demonize or divinize them. Earth by herself cannot evolve. Neither can the human race. All species

attempt to remain in their fixed holding pattern—their archetypal/genomic

mold. It is the impulse of the spirit into the world that makes evolution

possible. On a small scale, evolution is like education and education

requires inspiration or the student becomes bored. The Seven Powers or

Spirits are working with the Supreme Spirit to further spiritual life inside

the Turtle Shell of time and space. Helena Blavatsky taught a system of seven different “selves.” Gottfried

de Purucker gives them as (1932, 167): Âtman (individual spirit essence), Buddhi (spirit substance), Manas (man, mind, or ego; “conditionally

immortal” only), Kâma (astral soul or animal self), Prâna (life energy),

Linga-Śarîra (soul), and Sthûla-Śarîra (physical body).

Rudolf Steiner

recognized seven or nine parts, as did E. Grahame Howe in his spiritual

psychiatry. Gurdjieff taught that mankind was essentially tripartite: one part

intellectual, one part emotional, and one part connected to the motor and

instinctive capacities. He further subdivided the human being into the (1)

sexual/biological, (2) instinctive, (3) motor, (4) emotional, (5) intellectual,

and two higher centers analogous to the (6) third eye and (7) crown chakras

in Helena Blavatsky’s system. These—called the higher emotional center

and the higher intellectual center, respectively—must be developed and

earned, says Gurdjieff; they are not hardwired into us at birth. The Pharmacology of the Three Selves

Shamanism has long been associated with the use of plants for healing and

as agents for shifts in consciousness. As a herbalist, my knowledge is

constellated around plants—not because I have taken lots of hallucinogens,

but because plants have communicated with me through a variety of

channels. This includes the doctrine of signatures—the shape, color, growth

habit, or environmental niche of a plant resembles the disease, organ, or

energy pattern for which the plant is remedial. It also includes empathic

links through which the plants communicate their properties in pictures,

words, and feelings. The tastes and smells of plant medicines have induced

physiological and psychological experiences from which herbalists learn. I

have a lifetime of clinical experiences that has enriched my inner life—

thank you, clients, for trusting me and teaching me over the years. Finally, I

never lost the opportunity to learn from my own sicknesses. I went out

intentionally to get coronavirus, taking ten flights in March 2020.

If we want, we can describe the shamanic experience in terms of the

pharmacology of plants. This is not my first choice. I had no insight about

this until the late, great herbalist John Redden of Toronto, Ontario,

explained neurotransmitters in terms of the three selves. John was a jolly Santa Claus–like guy with a razor-sharp mind. He had

a good grounding in science and pharmacology and a Jesuit education, so he introduced the classical tripartite model of the soul as defined by Plato

and still taught by the Catholic Church. This divides the human psyche into

Reason (mentation), Desire (appetite), and Will (action, self-control, lack of

control).

These are reflections in the soul of the three selves. Desire is a

reflection of the animal self and Reason of the human self. The spirit is the

source of the power to do—Will. Dopamine

John pointed out that dopamine is the compound that is in charge of

pleasure, reward, and pain avoidance. When it is in balance, we can

experience pleasure in life, but when there is not enough we feel like “life

has not given us enough.” We feel emptiness and grief. Too much leads to

hallucinations that are characteristic: the person often sees specters of the

dead or hears voices. It opens us to the voices and land of the dead. These

are not the voices of the spirits and totems in the Spirit World, but the

remnants of living souls being processed in the Underworld through

pleasure, reward, and pain-avoidance. These are the activities that “train”

the animal self. Dopamine is the neurotransmitter on that level. Herbal remedies for lack of enjoyment of the body and pleasure include

Wormwood (Artemisia absinthium), Mugwort (Artemisia vulgaris), and

Damiana (Turnera aphrodiasia).

Plants that cause visions of the dead,

monsters, and specters are found in the nightshade family (for example,

Atropa belladonna, Datura spp., and Hyoscyamus niger).

These are labeled

as “hallucinogens,” but they give visions of an entirely different nature than

DMT and related tryptamines. In homeopathic doses, the nightshades

control these sorts of netherworldly misadventures. Opioids wreak havoc on

dopamine receptors. Adrenaline, Noradrenaline

The second major neurotransmitter is epinephrine (adrenaline), along with

its sister, norepinephrine (noradrenaline); they serve to increase alertness,

focus, vigilance, and consciousness. They keep us “paying attention” during

the day. Too much norepinephrine leads to nervousness, anxiety, hyperconsciousness, and obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), while too

little leads to restless mind, attention deficit disorder (ADD), and

hyperactivity. Good remedies for OCD include Passionflower (Passiflora

incarnata) and Horse Chestnut (Aesculus hippocastanum).

Hawthorn

(Crataegus spp.) and Schizandra (Schizandra chinensis) are good remedies

for ADD. Lemon Balm (Melissa officinalis) is good for nervousness similar

to ADD. If we run into a perceived threat, adrenaline is poured out and we switch

from ordinary alertness and awareness to “fight or flight.” The blood rushes

from the guts to the brain and limbs so that we can respond intelligently and

forcefully by making the decision to run away or stand and fight. Unfortunately, our system has not developed to the point where we are able

to differentiate between an actual threat (rattlesnake in the kitchen) and a

perceived threat (work deadlines).

Or even a picture in our mind of a threat. Therefore, we treat both actual and perceived threats in the same way. In

this state, the sympathetic nervous system is overstimulated while the

parasympathetic (rest, relax, rebuild) is suppressed. This leads to a state of

anxiety, nervousness, and excitability, with exhaustion and inability to

rebuild. This is called “adrenal fatigue” in folk medicine; a condition not

understood in conventional biomedicine. We don’t run out of adrenaline, so

that is not the deficiency. What happens is that adrenaline suppresses the

digestion and that reduces the assimilation of fats and oils essential for the

health of the adrenal cortex. This means we need a combination of nerve

sedation and lipid digestion. This condition responds to nervines for anxiety

like Lemon Balm (Melissa officinalis), Motherwort (Leonorus cardiaca), or

Borage (Borago officinalis), combined with lipids to rebuild the

parasympathetic and the adrenal cortex. Burdock root (Arctium lappa) is

excellent for rebuilding lipid mechanisms and reduces worry and anxiety. Serotonin

The third neurotransmitter is serotonin. It operates differently at different

levels. A modest deficiency causes rumination, negative self-dialogue, and

melancholy; the person is stuck in their inner self, unable to solve problems

or connect with the world. This is not really “depression” per se (from

actual loss, grief, setbacks, etc.), but fits the old-fashioned term “melancholy,” which is more of a creative or spiritual angst involving lack

of imagination, artistic funk, and anxiety. Herbalist Seán O’Donoghue notes that melancholia matches the crisis

that the shamanic personality experiences, and that it is usually suppressed

by drugs (MAO inhibitors) in conventional medicine, which artificially

keep serotonin levels up without dealing with the problem. It is possible

that one of the reasons our society is careening out of control is the

suppression of this stage of life, which is required for psychological and

spiritual problem-solving. Serotonin in moderation helps a person to switch back and forth from

the social world to the internal world, leading to a “well-adjusted” person. There is a balance between self and other. It supports the “gentle spiritual

path,” whereby the soul is constantly fed a small stream of inspiration and

insight from the spirit, so that the soul develops in an increasingly mature

direction, without losing contact with ordinary human society. Appropriate

levels of serotonin are associated with gaining perspective on life and

therefore with something that is very important: gaining impulse control. Without impulse control we cannot venture far into the shamanic world,

which tests our desire, reason, and will in every conceivable way. Serotonin also causes problems in excess. Modest excess pushes a

person into an intensification of sensory input, which can be overwhelming

in a social setting, so once again the person is pushed into isolation. Here

there is a greater potential for creative and spiritual development, but with

isolation from society. We can see that Eliade’s shamanic personality is

starting to form. It seems possible that we can have too much serotonin,

leading to social isolation and introversion, conjoined with highly creative

or unusual orientations. This resembles the autism spectrum. However,

because self-understanding is built into introversion, high serotonin levels

and neural receptor sites for serotonin can be associated with stability of

character and impulse control. Dimethyltryptamine (DMT)

Serotonin in balance (combined with reasonable decision-making) leads to

a solid spiritual or meaningful life, within the social network, but it does not

reach the Spirit World in the same way that dimethyltryptamine does. This

is the “spirit molecule,” as psychiatrist Rick Strassman named it, because DMT brings on visions and all-engulfing experiences of nonordinary

reality. It also develops a more dense net of serotonin-receptor sites, leading

to a more balanced presence in the social world. The reverse may also be

true: higher levels of serotonin may enhance the DMT experience. Impulse

control (serotonin) can enhance positive spiritual lessons (DMT), while

DMT and the spiritual lessons it provokes can enhance impulse control and

the “purposeful life” associated with good serotonin levels. DMT is made in the brain and the brain craves any external DMT that

comes along. However, it is broken down in the small intestine and does not

easily get to the brain when taken orally. Shamans, drug fiends, and

psychiatrists have their ways, however. Ayahuasca consists of a plant that

contains DMT (Banisteriopsis caapi), with another herb that helps it pass

the blood-brain barrier. When ethnobotanists asked Amazonian shamans

how they figured out which plants to put together—there are over a

thousand different species per hectare in the rainforest—they commonly

said the plants told them what to do (see Luna 1984; Narby 1998).

It is possible to generate DMT simply through spiritual exercises. When

Richard Alpert (Ram Dass), the early drug-researcher-turned-spiritual-

pilgrim, went to India, he gave a massive dose to an Indian guru. The man

did not change in the least; his brain was already awash with self-

manufactured DMT. The DMT innate to a person’s own system is the only completely safe

and healthy source since reliance on plant sources will tend to suppress the

manufacture of native DMT, just as reliance on medical drugs to keep up

serotonin levels will suppress the development of true self-regulation. Occasional use of DMT, on the other hand, might stimulate more

production—or the visions that would call creativity forth. There is a long

history of DMT use by shamans. Maria Sabina’s work with psilocybin, in

central Mexico, is a well-documented case. Today we not only need to develop adequate serotonin levels through

mindful living, but through mindful eating. This is because modern

corporations play to our appetitive nature, encouraging it through the use of

addictive levels of sugar, salt, unhealthy lipids, and synthetic foods. We also

develop food and substance allergies to never-eaten-before processed food,

spilling histamine and heparin into our system, causing allergic reactions,

sensitive tissue, and changes in local blood supply. Today, spiritual

consciousness requires good, sound food, as well as spiritual desire, discipline, and effort. And everyone should exercise, whether on a spiritual

path or just trying to stay healthy. “Chop wood, carry water.”

Cannabinoids

In the last several decades, the contents of Cannabis have become the

darlings of popular culture and now even science. THC is the psychoactive

component, but CBDs (cannabinoids) turn out to have an important

pharmacological function that acts on the neurotransmitters. THC needs to

be extracted by heat (smoked, baked), but the CBDs do not; they are

available like an herbal extract or tincture. While the dopamine, adrenaline, and serotonin travel “downstream”

along the nerve with the flow of electrons that constitute the nerve impulse,

CBDs actually go back the other way. They move backward across the

nerve synapse to tone down overstimulation of the nerve by dopamine and

adrenaline. In this way they relax, reduce anxiety and sleeplessness, and

give pain relief. There is no evidence yet that they have a cumulative,

character-building quality, like serotonin. They just seem to make life more

manageable—sometimes a lot more manageable. They also can cure some

physical ailments. A lot of people experience a slackening of will from

THC, and a few people experience terrible paranoia. Cerebrospinal Fluid

Modern medicine overlooks the mechanical side of physiology, in favor of

the purely molecular or pharmacological side, so it overlooks the “delivery

system” for the neurotransmitters. This is the cerebrospinal fluid (CSF).

The

neurotransmitters move through this semi-fluid to the synapses where they

conduct neural traffic. Chiropractors and osteopaths have not forgotten about CSF. Manipulations can help the flow of CSF and the work of the

neurotransmitters. My chiropractic friend Dave Milgram calls the CFS the

“secret little golden oil that makes it all run.” It “looks like starlight,”

according to another DC friend, Ariel Rose. Chiropractic was founded by a man who thought spiritual life required a

healthy, balanced cranium resting atop a healthy spinal cord. Osteopathy is based on the manipulation of the blood supply, which ties in directly to the

thermoregulatory system, a part of the immune system that controls heat

and influences hydration. By enhancing immunity, osteopathy reverberates

into the self/not-self issues associated with serotonin and measured self-

awareness. We are, of course, speaking of the higher callings and right

practice of these disciplines. And a lot of the time, we just need plain old

structural repair. The grand medicine in herbalism for the cerebrospinal fluid is Black

Cohosh (Cimicifuga racemosa, Actaea racemosa).

It has an affinity for

whiplash, which “bunches up” the CSF, resulting in spinal and arthritic

pain, stagnation of CSF in the brain, depression, and headache. This plant

will be described in more detail under Snake Medicine. *I was in a class where we were doing a “plant attunement” with Hawthorn. It said to me, “I’m taking lessons from the Oak on how to be a tree.” Oh ...

, I thought, I’ll check in with you in two hundred thousand years. That gave me food for thought: What would I be doing in two hundred thousand years?

We are a Mystery People. 4

Preparations for the Journey

Not all those who wander are lost. J. R. R. TOLKIEN, THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING

A traveller thro Eternity ...

keeps onwards in his wondrous journey on the earth. WILLIAM BLAKE, THE NATURE OF INFINITY

The shaman’s journey is a long and winding road. We imagine a goal but

when we get there, we find something else. One thing we find is another

goal. The path demands flexibility, yet good, old-time discipline. It stretches

the boundaries of the assets we bring into the world. It subjects these to

mysterious tests and heartbreaking losses. Then, as if this were not enough,

it hurls us into unknown dimensions, the hardwiring for which is missing in

the human race. And if there is a particle of egotism, indulgence, or greed in

us, which we cannot let go, our soul will be thwarted and diminished. So, a

great deal of preparation is necessary on the path: it’s like packing for a

mountain-climbing trip. The mountaintop is where the Fool is standing in the first card of the

tarot. It pictures a daydreaming youth holding a fancy traveling bag on a

staff on his shoulder. He is prepared to climb a mountain—but he is about

to walk off a cliff. Fortunately for him, his little dog is biting him on the leg to stop him. Right from the start, the animal self is trying to communicate

with us even when we are caught up in a fantasy world. Right from the

start, the masters of the Italian occult Renaissance who painted the first

tarot card show their understanding of the importance of the animal self. The number assigned to the Fool is “0.” This represents vacuity well

enough, but there are deeper lessons in this number. There was not always a

zero in mathematics. The Greeks did not know of it; the Arabic

mathematicians “discovered” zero. What a revolutionary, important, and

unique discovery that was!

And there was no preexisting “model” for zero. It was a realization. That’s what is needed on the spiritual journey:

realization, originality, creativity. So, “0” is the number for the Fool. The tarot is an important tool of the Western occult/shamanic tradition. The most sophisticated study of the history and meaning of the tarot from a

philosophical and occult perspective is, in my opinion, Robert Place’s The

Tarot: History, Symbolism, and Divination (2005).

The best evidence indicates that the tarot originated in northern Italy in

the 1430s. At that time, a well-educated artisan would have had a Church

education that emphasized Greek philosophy, as well as Christianity. Place

recognized that the twenty-one cards of the Higher Arcana that follow the

Fool are constructed on a tripartite organizational scheme based on the

model of the three “souls” of Plato. This would explain why the Higher

Arcana align with deep psychospiritual, occult, and shamanic experience:

they are modeled after the three selves. Like the Fool, we do not actually know what to even look for when we

begin our journey. We don’t see “0.” We don’t know that the animal self

exists, that it is important, or that it is biting our leg. We don’t know that

imagination or dream count for anything. We don’t realize that our

intellectual environment is conditioned by ideas that are contrary to

spiritual freedom. The Way of the Spiritual Warrior

When we start at such a disadvantage, there is at least one thing that we can

do to help ourselves: that is the cultivation of carefulness and strategy, in

our dealings with ourselves and others. That’s what is called “spiritual

warriorship.” The number VII card of the tarot, the completion of the first of the three sevenfold cycles, is the Chariot—a picture of a warrior. The

first threefold cycle relates to the conscious self. Although we don’t know

much about the other world, and the other parts of ourselves, we can at least

live carefully and strategically. And if nothing more happens in life—at

least we have lived to the best of our ability. The authors of the tarot, whoever they were, did not have an abstract

relationship to warriors. Renaissance Italy was largely governed by

mercenaries (condottieri) who held the fate of cities and countrysides, men,

women, and children in their hands. They could only hope for a code of

honor. As spiritual warriors, we learn to save up our energy—emotional, vital,

sexual—to express it appropriately and deliberately. Does this mean that

every action is strategic, calculated, and insincere?

Not quite. There is room

at least for sincerity. This doesn’t sound good, but most people are already

calculating and insincere—those that are not simply out of control. Don Juan called the calculated approach “stalking,” but he did not mean

it as the stalking of other people, but of oneself. The spiritual warrior lives a

calculated life with regard to other people: first, so that one will not waste

one’s own energy; second, so that others won’t waste it either; and third, so

we don’t waste other people’s energy. That does not mean we have to be

insincere to enjoy life; rather, like any busy person, we need to budget our

time and energy. We have to live strategically because our starting position

is one of great weakness. We are far, far from the spirit. One of the great writers on war, Carl von Clausewitz, understood the

principle of warriorship implicitly (1989, 108):

Strength of character does not consist solely in having powerful

feelings, but in maintaining one’s balance in spite of them. Even

with the violence of emotion, judgment and principle must still

function like a ship’s compass, which records the slightest variations

however rough the sea. Warriorship is necessary in war, and spiritual warriorship is necessary in

spiritual war—and we are at spiritual war all the time. The chief goal here is

not to win the war but to “save energy,” as don Juan says. Only in this

manner will we reach the far-distant shores of anticipated and unanticipated

spiritual wisdom. And we will be successful, not through our own efforts, but because something in the universe responds and carries us to the

accomplishment of our true self’s purpose. “When you take that road this

Good will meet you everywhere,” says Hermes (Salaman et al. 2000, 58).

Terence McKenna notes that even Nature herself loves the warrior:

Nature loves courage. You make the commitment and nature will

respond to that commitment by removing impossible obstacles. Dream the impossible dream and the world will not grind you under,

it will lift you up. This is the trick. This is what all these teachers

and philosophers who really counted, who really touched the

alchemical gold, this is what they understood. This is the shamanic

dance in the waterfall. This is how magic is done. By hurling

yourself into the abyss and discovering it’s a feather bed. (McKenna

2010b)

On the path of the warrior, we have to be patient and accept some

indulgences for the time being. Here is a “warrior story” I heard growing up

in Quaker Meeting:

William Penn was born a noble, and his social group was

expected to wear a sword as a sign of their superiority over

the common people, who served them in peace and war. When Penn became a Quaker, he asked George Fox, a

simple shepherd from Drayton-in-the-Clay, whether he should

continue to wear his sword. Fox said: “Wear it as long as thou

canst.”

The bully/clown/dictator/evil-genius ego within us cannot be defeated

overnight or out of season. The warrior does not force change on him- or

herself or others. The result will be a waste of energy, and on the spiritual

path both illusion and energy-wasting are damaging. The way of the warrior depends upon training and receiving knowledge

from the reptilian self because war is threatening. Originally, I did not know

of any method for teaching people about their animal self except through

descriptions and stories. That was before I teamed up with Vanessa

Chakour, a retired female fighter and boxing coach in New York City. She

used boxing exercises to get students in touch with their animal self. She

had a method; I had the knowledge of the animal self to help students recognize what they were feeling. Teaching together, we were able to help

people make that shamanic leap into the animal self. It is our duty to respect our fellow humanity, but not to give our own

energy away, so we operate from within that paradigm and try to make our

reactions appropriate, magnanimous, and generous, without giving away

parts of ourselves. A fight with another person, though unavoidable in the

great theater of life, is always a waste of time for both parties unless we

take it as a challenge to learn and grow. Then at least one person benefits. In the old days there were shamans that simply killed anyone who

interfered with them. They did this not because they were evil, but because

they couldn’t restrain their doppelganger when they were threatened. As I

was taught, this is the origin of the Tsalagi (Cherokee) name Asgaya-dihi

(“Mankiller”), although online information says differently. In chapter 1 we

saw how even the peaceful Lutheran mystic Jacob Boehme killed a man

who attacked him verbally because he couldn’t hold back his doppelganger. The two major skills don Juan emphasized for his students were

“stalking” and “dreaming.” Stalking is a hunter’s way of looking at things

and therefore more often practiced by the male students on the path. The art

of dreaming is another track for getting around the ego and women tend to

be better dreamers. In the end, however, all of us need to cultivate both

skills, though one may be more important to us than another. In the Genesis

shaman stories, the roles are reversed: Joseph is the dreamer while Tamar is

the warrior. At first, warriorship is work. Then it is a habit. Then you stop thinking

about it. After a while, the responses of the warrior come automatically and

there is no instant of calculation: we respond directly and completely

according to the laws of spiritual war, that is to say, life. Those who are less disciplined can make up for it in strategy. Those

who have neither discipline nor strategy can make up for it through

dreaming. Those who are lost causes—who are without discipline, strategy,

or dream—still have a chance: they’re the ones Jesus loved best. They may

be closest to the kingdom of heaven because squandering time and energy,

losing control of themselves, and being humbled brings them to the place

where they have no choice but to follow the footsteps of the spirit. The

touch of the spirit sobers them up. This might be a more direct route than

warriorship or strategy—but there will be quite a few casualties along that

path. Discipline of the mind, as well as heart and body, is also important. This

usually involves meditative techniques. These are always a valuable asset,

whether one is on the shamanic path or another. The ability to focus the

mind, be aware of a change of focus, and be in control of the focus are all

skills of value. There are, however, problems with this as well: like

warriorship, we need to practice it, make it habitual, and then stop thinking

about it. The trained mind is still only the mind. Dark magicians train the

mind as much as sincere aspirants on the path; perhaps more so. When it

comes to disciplining the mind, I’m a lazy bum. I can’t stop my thoughts,

but I still try to watch them. We do what we can. A form of meditation that is quite valuable on the shamanic path is one

in which a person learns to catch hold of the images; especially those that

are spontaneous. The most valuable is the discipline of the mind to awake in

dreamtime. Subduing subjective faculties (imagination, intuition, instinct)

to the mind can be counter-productive because these are the more important

faculties on the Old, Old Path. Education of the conscious self to be alert,

the ego to manage time and energy, and the mind to think clearly but not

dogmatically, are the platform for a sensible life, much less a spiritual life. In addition, we must educate the soul. We need to be able to recognize

and value the things the soul really cares for. We need to develop soul

awareness and soul wisdom. We need to learn and value what is in the

heart: love, desire, values, direction. Without love, our life will have no

personal meaning or fulfillment. If we dedicate ourselves to the spirit

without at the same time asking that our legitimate needs be taken care of,

the spirit will rub us down to the bone, taking from us everything we have,

until we learn to stand up for ourselves. Spiritual Education

Closely akin to spiritual warriorship is the “right way to think.” We have to

re-educate ourselves, because the dominant culture teaches us how to

indulge ourselves in thought and behavior that ignores and opposes spiritual

life. This demands “spiritual education,” which is not a matter of learning

dogmas or ideas or arguments, but how to think in a manner that leads to

increased spiritual understanding. True education is a combination of drawing forth from within the

student and inspiring them with new goals and themes. The underlying

Latin word (educare) means “to draw forth from within,” while the word

that underlies inspiration (insprirare) means “to draw in from without.” All

teachers know this. The greatest subject of study was pointed out by the

Delphic Oracle: “Human, know thyself.”

Spiritual education is based on finding the real, the whole, and the true. The shamanic path requires thorough self-examination. Therefore, we

cannot leave out some of our experiences—the subjective, the ambiguous,

or the impossible. These may be the “best ones.” We need to explore and

cultivate every aspect of life that we experience, inner and outer. This

means that we need to study and be aware of our sensory perceptions,

thoughts, and feelings, as well as our more recondite faculties: psychic

perceptions, empathic impressions, animal instincts, intuition, imagination,

and dream. If something is ambiguous, we may especially want to study it. The spirit loves the impossible, so we need to accept even the impossible. The Real

Each person begins with what they have: an inner and outer life that is

flawed and incomplete, but real. Going on to other realities is not a matter

of transcending our flawed or limited world, but of learning how to

appreciate parts of ourselves that we ignore. Experience belongs to a fleeting perceptual and mortal world and

shamanism does not want to miss one flickering instant. The examination of

experience is one of the tools used on the shamanic path, and one of the

skills developed by being on the path. When we are fully invested in our

experience, we can fully appreciate the fleeting moment. Only when we

believe our experiences to be real can we really dig our claws into them. Those are the claws of Grandfather Turtle, the patron saint of wisdom. Or

Grandmother Badger, the patroness of toughness. Whatever it is we learn,

when we incorporate it into our humanity—it will become wisdom and

fortitude. The idea of cultivating the life of the soul first gains momentum in the

twelfth and thirteenth centuries. We do not find it in the Hebrew Bible, nor

the Greek: Jesus taught the existence, salvation, and immortality of the soul. That was a new message for his contemporaries, most of whom believed

that the afterlife constituted nothing more than a dark, will-less, zombielike

existence in the relentless shadows of Hades. The Christian Dark Ages

squashed the life of the soul and the appreciation for the creation, Nature, in

favor of a dark, will-less obedience to God. Islam also put the emphasis on

obedience, rather than the cultivation of the soul. In the twelfth century,

however, the light broke through. The beauty of the soul and the wonder of

creation started to fertilize the arts and human relationships. This is found in

the works of Hildegard von Bingen, the teachings of Rumi, the ballads of

the troubadours, the art of the great cathedrals, and the great painters. Saint

Francis taught the worth of the creation and love for natural creatures. We

take for granted our appreciation of the beauty of mountains, lakes, forests,

fields, and rivers, but when Hildegard, Rumi, and Francis were born, people

thought of Nature as a burden to be endured. The appreciation for Nature and the individual eventually led to the

development of science and technology as tools for exploiting the natural

world. At the same time, literacy was encouraged, and in a few places

plurality of opinion and individual expression were allowed. This was

particularly spurred by the English Civil War. When the dust settled, so

many people had been killed in sectarian warfare that the king wisely

allowed sects to remain, as long as they would lay down their arms. That’s

when we Quakers originated. Enter science. We have to address the false idea that science is based on

reality and truth. In The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (1970), Thomas

Kuhn showed that science is always based on belief systems and

assumptions, never on pure fact. He called these beliefs “paradigms.”

Sometimes they are caused by lack of instrumentation: geocentrism was

adequate until the invention of the telescope. In the more dogmatic

sciences, like medicine, it is customary to deny the importance or even the

existence of paradigms, while in others it is accepted practice to consider

the choice of what paradigms a field is based upon. In modern medicine it is

“evidence-based medicine” (EBM).

Medicine is supposedly based on

proven research, although critics, including editors of the New England

Journal of Medicine (Marcia Angell), The Lancet (Richard Horton), and the

British Journal of Medicine have all cast doubt on the legitimacy of modern

research, due to the pernicious influences of Big Pharma profit on

research.*

However, the problem with science goes beyond corruption. Modern

science is based upon arguments about the nature of proof. The presumption

that everyday experience is real is labeled “naive realism,” meaning that

only naive, unsophisticated, uneducated, or childlike people (read: the

uneducated, Indigenous people, and subcultures whose thinking is not based

on logic) consider their direct experiences to be “real.” The opposite

perspective is labeled “critical idealism” because it is “critical” of the

experience of “reality.” It substitutes a constructed model or ideal for “the

real.”

If the real does not exist, then how do we obtain knowledge?

We launch

experiments that produce statistical results; the higher the probability, the

closer we are to “reality.” One advocate explains: “the more precise our

statistical models, though always speculative, the closer we are to grasping

the real world” (McGaughey 2016).

This statement assumes that statistical

models, “though always speculative,” are capable of drawing closer and

closer to reality. This, of course, is an assumption and itself a speculation; in

fact, this method of thinking defines itself as unable to arrive at reality or

truth. McGaughey’s argument is based on the syllogism: “If our statistical

models are precise, and they are getting more precise, then we are getting

closer to grasping reality.” The same information could have been arranged

in a different syllogism: “If our models of the world are based on

speculation, then our model of the world can never be based upon reality.”

The Whole

Human beings are born incomplete and we feel this throughout life. That is

why we are seeking, wondering, curious. If we were complete, we would be

boring. There is no end to the wandering of a Mystery People. One of our goals as human beings is to attempt to become whole. But

first we need to learn to perceive wholeness. Even here our culture opposes

us. Science is based on reductionism—the attempt to find the explanation in

the smallest bits, while ignoring the whole, the context within which the

bits operate. It does not deny the existence of the whole: holism is

considered to be the opposite of reductionism. Science basically uses

holism as a foil against which to define reductionism. Holism therefore is a subject we have to learn on our own, without the help of conventional

education. It was not always so. The study of character, the whole person, was

once quite popular. Just to cite one historical era, if one turns back to the

writings of the Civil War period in America, one finds tremendous interest

in the study of character. The personalities of the great generals and

politicians offered scope for this kind of study and were discussed and

brooded over continually in the newspapers and parlors of America. What

else could people at home do?

They craved knowledge of the character of

the leaders who would determine the successes and failures of armies,

campaigns, peoples, and nations. Did Grant’s whiskey-drinking indicate a

weakness, a flaw he could overcome, or even a strength?

Sherman was a

“nervo-sanguine type,” anxious, fretful, but always on the move. Abraham

Lincoln was labeled “poor white trash, born and educated in a slave state”

by the leader of his own party, but he deftly moved through political and

military minefields to outlast the expectations of his allies and opponents. Lee, the dark gentleman, was courtly, internal, careful, yet daring—in

battle, a stealthy panther; in peace, the rallying point of the “Lost Cause.”

“Stonewall” lived up to his name. The white people of the era did not study

the character of Natives or Afro-Americans, but we can remedy that today. Frederick Douglass was a manly, intelligent, charismatic, fearless black

man. In the end he was the only person the friendless president looked to as

a peer for advice and approval. Sojourner Truth traveled everywhere, living

up to her name, “telling it like it is.”

From the Civil War to the early twentieth century, the study of character

flourished and fascinated people. This was a sophisticated era from the

standpoint of character study. It was superseded by the birth of modern

psychology. Jung’s “archetypes” and his model for character-analysis are

useful, interesting, and profound, but they aren’t personalized by the public

interest in the character of great and terrible generals, politicians, and

dictators. And we can’t blame Jung because none of the other psychiatrists

were interested in this study either. The intense scrutiny of public and

historical figures faded into the past. Outside of the Jungian model, which is used in education, human

resources, psychology, and sociology, the study of character according to

ancient standards exists as some sub-department of occultism or traditional

Chinese medicine. Nevertheless, it is important to be able to recognize the whole: the character, the constitution, physical or psychological, innate and

acquired, in order to be able to assess oneself and other people accurately. But more than that, it is necessary to exercise and develop the faculty

within us that experiences the whole in ourselves and the world around us. Jung called this the “intuition.”

The whole unites the pieces. The pieces are observable and can be

documented, but the whole can only be known by an “intuitive leap.” That

is why holism is largely ignored by modern science and education. When we sense the whole, the pattern, the archetype, the understanding

pops into place before our mind and we experience an “aha moment”—a

feeling of completeness; a lightness of being within us, as it were, that is

not our normal state of existence. Knowledge of the whole that unifies the

pieces is transcendental and spiritual, uplifting us to a higher world. I remember reading the account of a teacher who taught free classes for

paroled convicts on philosophy. He described the Platonic world of

archetypes. One of the men said: “Wow, they sure didn’t teach us that in

school!” It is important to develop the life of the mind so that we can see

the greater perspective that makes life more interesting, and may even

“keep us out of trouble.”

Intuitive and holistic connections have been removed from our

language, so that we cannot even think this way. I know this because I grew

up where English was the second language, still subordinate to an ancient

American Indian tongue, where the real and the whole were implicit to

survival in the alligator-infested swamps of southern Florida. Later in life I

had to search and search for a way to express these connections in English

—I found it in astrology. I’m not an astrologer, though, but a speaker in

whole patterns. The True

In order to know anything definite, we need to be able to differentiate

between true and false. I am not talking about a cultural value here—good

or bad behavior and thought—but the truth we feel in our hearts or soul or

body when we are confronted by something that simply is true. If we can’t tell what is true, what do we know?

Therefore we must

cultivate the ability to know and feel truth. This will start with simple detections of bad ideas from good ones, lies from reliable statements, safe

situations from unsafe. One day we will be confronted by a spiritual truth. If

we have been doing our homework, then we will know that we are hearing

a truth and that it comes from the spirit. We will also know that we have to

believe: if we do not believe the spirit, then our spiritual life will not

develop. The instinct for truth is an actual faculty but it is not acknowledged or

described in modern culture to any degree. The current conceit is that “truth

is relative” or “everyone can have their own truth.” This is only possible if

there is an underlying supposition that there really is no absolute truth. There is also the idea that there is only one truth. This is also a basic

supposition in Western society. Originally it was a religious truth, now it is

a scientific truth—or rather, science has become the new religion. Truth—the real McCoy—is internally recognized and therefore cannot

be externally advertised. It is doubtful that the purveyors of “one truth for

everyone” really know the truth they claim to know. If they did, they would

have had an internal experience of truth and realize that truth cannot be

advertised or forced on people. It was largely in rebellion against these

unpleasant people that the modern “truth is relative” fad arose. But this

solution is no better. Sorry. Delusion. The laws of the universe were not

made by short-lived, inexperienced tramps living on the surface of the

planet for a few decades (namely, ourselves).

Truth can only be recognized

by the individual. There are several “kinds” of truth. Conscience is the “whispering of the

superego,” which usually gives us good advice about how to live in a way

that is beneficial for us and for society. It is good idea to get in the habit of

listening to one’s conscience and following that voice because it generally

means well. And, when the spirit does speak, we will be better practiced at

listening. Then there are the “inalienable” truths so well stated in the American

Constitution:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created

equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain

unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the

pursuit of Happiness. Because we are endowed with free will, we know that taking away

another person’s free will is wrong. Taking away a person’s life or

happiness crosses their will. This knowledge is hardwired into our souls. Then there is the truth of the intuition: “Aah, yes!

It all fits together”—

the pieces make a “whole.” There is a part of the mind that is not satisfied

until all the pieces make sense, generating the “aha moment,” just as reason

is not satisfied until all the pieces stand in a logical order. Intuition sees “in

a flash” how the data fit together. As one of the old occult teachers put it:

“Intuition sees each truth separately and distinctly and never connects it

with another, or with cause or effect, this being the work of Reason”

(Raleigh 1929, 16).

Since it reflects perceptions and knowledge that seem to (or actually do)

come from another world, the intuition encourages us to go beyond

reasoning and ordinary consciousness. It also puts us in the good habit of

pursuing and finding truth. Hopefully we will reach a level where the

instinct for truth is hardwired into our system

The sources of this instinct do not come from our human self, but from

a deeper animal and energetic level, which, ultimately, derives from the

cold-blooded instinct for survival. It is actually a part of us that is reptilian. Falsehood can be deadly, so the reptilian brain is engaged in the search for

what is real, whole, and true. Truth detection does not involve thinking about right and wrong. It

arises in a dark, primitive part of our waking awareness. Who would guess

that the most wicked part of ourselves—a reptilian mind that is only

interested in survival and reproduction at the cost of everything else—

would be the part of us that eventually learns to detect truth?

Or who would

think that truth, which is so essential to the spirit, would be detectable by

the inner lizard?

We are a Mystery People. How can we cultivate truth-knowing?

It demands that we are always

looking for truth—that we face it when it appears, in whatever form, not

lying to ourselves or others. The development of the instinct for truth

demands an exercise of all the faculties of perception and truth-knowing. If

we suppress any of them, we will know less. Or not enough. The spirit could be defined as the true, the whole, the real, and the free. However, until we have had the internal experience of these truths, this

statement is merely a concept. Ho-hum. Shining the Spirit

Even without intending to, those who know truth shine it out into the world

—and sometimes people recognize it in them. That’s the kind of person

who is a “city on the hill,” a touchstone for truth in human society. People

want to touch that stone. We should develop the habit of shining. Then we will not waste our

fleeting time on Earth, nor the time of the people around us. When we

receive spiritual truth, our own spirit is awakened and it is our duty to let

our spirit shine. It happens naturally. It is not a matter of speech, but of

being. Shining the spirit is a shamanic technique. Don Juan mentioned it a

single time, without explanation. He once said to Carlos, with regard to his

domestic life: “The only thing you never did was shine your spirit”

(Castaneda 1972, 42).

We don’t need to be realized beings to shine the

spirit. We need to stand for something noble, true, uplifting—even just the

pursuit of truth. And since truth is ultimately personal, we can only convey

our truth by shining it out to the world, not by argumentation. Carlos was

too conflicted between his spiritual path and his domestic path to shine his

spirit when he got home. He didn’t understand that there is no difference

between one and the other. What a waste. This is also a method that Jesus taught: “a city on the hill cannot be

hidden” (Matthew 5:14).

I never appreciated the physical reality of this

observation until I traveled through Galilee at night: all the villages were on

the tops of the hills. That’s because of centuries of warfare. “Shining the

spirit” rises to the top in the life of the spiritual warrior. Uncertainty

The world is not perfect. What if we really don’t know anything definite?

Carl von Clausewitz had to confront this often in war, the most serious

“business of life” (1989, 140):

[T]he general unreliability of all information presents a special

problem in war: all action takes place, so to speak, in the twilight,

which, like fog or moonlight, often tends to make things seem

grotesque and larger than they really are. Whatever is hidden from full view in this feeble light has to be

guessed at by talent, or simply left to chance. So once again for the

lack of objective knowledge, one has to trust to talent or to luck. It is shocking to think of common soldiers living or dying by the “luck”

of their superiors. This is called the “fog of war.” The coronavirus pandemic, and the years

that have followed, offers a good illustration of this mindset in the

“twilight” or “haze” of battle. As I write, these events are still unfolding. We, as a species, don’t know what is going on. Faith

If we don’t look forward to the future then we can’t enjoy life. This is called

“faith.” It gives us purpose, confidence, and forward propulsion on the path

of life, however we visualize that path. As Hermes said:

When you take that road, this Good will meet you everywhere and

will be experienced everywhere, even where and when you do not

expect it; when awake, asleep, in a ship, on a rock, by night, by day,

when speaking and when silent. (Salaman et al. 2000, 58)

To know that is to have faith. I used to ignore this important element of the path because the word

“faith” was so overused—it seemed to me—by the Christians. But to the

extent that they meant an “inner knowing” that we can put our faith in—

rather than belief in a dogma—they are correct. When I was young and had the experience that “Nature is alive” and

knew it to be true, it gave me faith in the future of my young life. No matter

what happened, I would always be a part of the All-Life. But other things

also gave me meaning on the path. Reading Castaneda a few years later, I

felt the ring of truth in what don Juan said and his teachings were always a

touchstone for me. Even the inscrutable tarot cards, which I first saw at

about the same age, gave me faith in the ultimate meaning and outcome of life; they seemed to promise a life path with such meaning and outcome. And what was the last card of the Higher Arcana: the World, representing

fulfillment, the end of the journey reached, but also picturing the very

Living Nature that had given me faith in the beginning. Knownism

One day I was talking to my late friend Arlo Omaha, who was born on

Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota. While I kept using the word “God,”

he would use the word “Great Mystery.” After a few minutes, I wondered

why he wasn’t using “Great Spirit.” That is a common English translation

of the Lakota Wakan Tonka. So, I listened carefully. Arlo wasn’t forceful or

unusual in his demeanor, but I could feel that he was teaching something. Then it struck me: he was pointing out that I was talking about something I

really didn’t know anything about. I was unconsciously conceited on the

subject of God. The very term “God,” so common in my culture, was a

conceit. It implied a knowledge that outstripped the possible. Even if we

know something tangible about God, there is so much more that we don’t

know. We live in the middle of a Great Mystery. There are two lessons here, not one. The first is called “knownism,”

while the other is called “paying attention and deserving to know.” Thank

you, Arlo—I leave these teachings as a monument to you, a spiritual

warrior gone on to the next world. Travel well. One of the fallacies of Western culture is the assumption that we either

know everything of essential value or we are going to know it when our

technology has gotten sophisticated enough for us to investigate everything. This assumption even pervades our attitude toward the unseen worlds. Thousands of years of churchianity have encouraged us to presume that we

can know God easily and directly. Both our science and our religion cause

the deadly conceit of knownism to spread throughout the entire culture,

which explains in some measure the arrogance of modern Western culture. This is a kind of entitlement. The teaching of fundamentalist Christianity is that God, Jesus, is a

familiar, approachable God rather than a remote one. It is hard to see how

this can be a bad idea under any circumstance. However, this leads to

religious entitlement, which we see writ large all over the institution of Christianity, not to mention dogmatism. These kinds of religious and

scientific fixations are found everywhere in Western culture. Against close-minded fundamentalism of all kinds there is the terminal

open-mindedness of the superficial seeker people in our culture who believe

they can “choose” to make God whomever or whatever they want him or

her or it to be. They are relatives of the “everyone can have their own truth”

people. They presuppose that God is no more than a concept and a

possession belonging to a person. This is another form of entitlement. The problem of knownism goes very deep because it has been an

inherent feature of Western culture for a very long time. The ego lives in a

limited, self-determined universe and it wants to believe that there is

nothing else out there but what it knows or can know. However, human

beings innately feel that something is missing. Something is calling. The path of the shaman is pointed in the opposite direction from the

known. Although the shaman accepts the reality of the human experience in

all its diversity, that path ironically questions even the validity of human

nature itself. It does not take for granted that human nature is a good thing. Talk about skepticism!

The shamanic journey takes us beyond self, family,

friends, neighbors, and finally even the human genome. Let us call this the

path of unknownism. Shamanism is a path of death, not just for the ego and the social person,

but our attachment to the human genome, humanity itself, and everything

that we take for granted; the shaman survives that inner death and returns. I do not mean that one literally dies physically, ceases to be human,

loses connection with the known or sanity, or completely loses their self-

identity, friends, and family. It is only required that our egoic attachments to

these matters must pass away. Then, in the space created by the death of

these attachments, we will discover something that is beyond the ego, the

known, or even the human. At the same time, one may discover how

precious is our life, the known, the human, one’s family and friends. The death of the ego makes room for something from beyond the

personal to come into one’s life. That ultimate transpersonal factor is the

spirit—so transpersonal we don’t really know what it is. The spirit is the

ambassador of the unknown. In the end, however, the known is not one iota inferior to the unknown. All things that pertain to the heart are part of the known. Within it we find the most delicate, temporal, and beautiful bits of life that will ever be lived. It is the preconceptions, the entitlements, the conceits, that are in the way. Paying Attention and Deserving to Know

One evening, more than thirty years ago, I went out for dinner with an

American Indian friend I had met in the herb store. She was a poised, well-

educated woman of middle years, who resided in one of the wealthiest

neighborhoods in the city. I was not expecting an education, but as she

spoke, I began to realize she was teaching me. I learned more things about

medicine that night than I learned in any other three hours. Now, thirty

years later, I realize maybe I should have camped out on her doorstep and

learned more, but because of stereotypes (my own knownism), I didn’t think

of her as the expert she was. Indians who reflect traditional ways often teach by subtle suggestions;

they don’t want the listener to lose face or feel imposed upon. Being a

teacher is a very delicate position. Also, they feel that people should have

an inner sensitivity to the knowledge imparted. It should not be given away

for free. It should—indeed—must be worked for. Much is asked of the

student, as well as the teacher. The student who pays attention earns the

knowledge and respects both the knowledge and the teacher. Back in those days, when this conversation took place, politically

correct people got uptight using the word “Indian” and replaced it with

“Native American.” That didn’t fly in Canada, so they adopted the term

“First Nation.” Later there was a switch to “Indigenous.”

All of this was done without asking the Indian people what they

thought. The PC advocates of the time certainly didn’t ask members of the

American Indian Movement—the leading politically active group in Native

America. While AIM did not speak for all Indian people, it was certainly

well known in the American press, due to the seizure of Alcatraz and

Wounded Knee, plus other run-ins with the FBI. A kid in my high school

was on probation for hitting an FBI agent over the head with a pipe. It

would have been respectful to ask AIM what they thought was a respectful

term—but white people thought they knew better. They didn’t know about

“deserving to know” or even “listening.” The white way, as they said on the Seminole rez, was “too-much-Jesus.” Preach, preach, preach and don’t

listen. My dinner friend kept pointedly using the expression “the Indian

People.” That caught my attention: it was like a speed bump in the road of

the conservation. Why did she use the phrase?

I wondered. I listened more

carefully and became aware of the undercurrents behind her choice of

words. They were a statement: We are People, we are a People. And finally

there was even the deepest inference: We are the People ...

of the Land. What did my friend call my people?

In traditional Native teachings, the

Indian educator is very polite and don’t like to cause loss of face. My friend

used the term only once, but it was shocking when she did: invader. She

applied it to someone else, deflecting it from me because she didn’t want to

offend me. I’ve met Indian people much more militant than this woman, but

she was the only one who made sure I knew who I was. Although my friend was educated in the colleges of white society, she

still spoke in the traditional fashion. Everything she told me was a story. Not one thing was presented as something derived from logic, which I had

to agree or disagree with. She just told me stories; one after another. If I

understood them, then I deserved to know. One of them, about the Bat

People, I failed to understand for decades. It would take getting coronavirus

for me to understand this most profound and powerful medicine animal. Different Kinds of Knowing

The word “science” refers to a system of organized knowledge. Historians

of science have listed a total of five “methods and procedures” for

constructing systems of knowledge: “revelation, authority, reason,

experience, and experimentation” (Clagett 1955, 4).

To this must be added

“commercial science,” since knowledge is always harnessed to better

oneself or others. “Authority” refers to expert opinion, peer review, history,

and tradition. But it is “revelation” we want to dissect here. There are at

least three different methods that fall into this category. Science can be

intuitive (looking for connections and patterns), visionary (dream and

imagination), and clairvoyant (Rudolf Steiner and Edgar Cayce).

Intuitive science is based on the detection of patterns in data, to

establish the greater context. A good example of the intuitive approach would be Darwin’s realization that all the different finches on the

Galapagos Islands derived from one ancestral finch that had evolved into

many species suited to the different food-gathering niches on the islands. History includes well-known examples of “visionary science,” like the

chemist August Kekulé’s discovery of the structure of the benzene ring in a

dream:

I was sitting writing at my textbook but the work did not progress;

my thoughts were elsewhere. I turned my chair to the fire and

dozed. Again the atoms were gamboling before my eyes. This time

the smaller groups kept modestly in the background. My mental eye,

rendered more acute by repeated visions of the kind, could now

distinguish larger structures of manifold conformation: long rows,

sometimes more closely fitted together all twining and twisting in

snakelike motion. But look!

What was that?

One of the snakes had

seized hold of its own tail, and the form whirled mockingly before

my eyes. As if by a flash of lightning I awoke; and this time also I

spent the rest of the night in working out the consequences of the

hypothesis. Let us learn to dream, gentlemen, then perhaps we shall find the

truth. (Benfey 1958, 22)

These images are remarkably similar to the “pharmacological” visions

experienced by partakers of Ayahuasca in the Amazon: they also sometimes

see molecules as snakes (Narby 1998)!

A modern biographer commented on Kekulé’s approach: “There was

not universal approval for this method of gaining inspiration” (Libby 1922,

270).

Note that this biographer couldn’t actually perceive what Kekulé

described: he used this method not to gain inspiration, but to acquire

specific scientific information. This difference is so far-fetched for this

commentator that he was not able to read or report the account correctly!

This is a good example of “cultural blindness,” or “bad education.”

It also turns out that this was not just a freak accident but that Kekulé’s

teacher trained his students in this method and Kekulé trained some of his

own students as well:

Kekulé’s pupil Van ’t Hoff, who at the age of twenty-two wrote the

essentials of La Chimie dans l’Espace, seems to have shared the

visual imagination of his master. For Kolbe the idea that the

arrangement of atoms in molecules could be determined appeared

almost as fantastic as a belief in witchcraft or spiritualism. Berthelot

was not less disdainful concerning Wurtz, the teacher of Van ’t Hoff

and Le Bel. When some friend told Berthelot not to take the atomic

theory too seriously, atoms having no objective reality, Berthelot

growled: “Wurtz has seen them!” (Libby 1922, 270)

Visionary science is the essential basis for much of the traditional

knowledge, culture, and religion of the Indian People. Historically, Native

Americans considered dreaming to be the source of information about how

to regulate and run their culture and learn about the world around them. Dreaming, for the Native American People, is/was not just an uncontrolled,

mysterious experience—as it is for most people in the dominant culture—

but serious business that can determine the direction of life for the

individual and society. Of course, the pernicious effect of the dominant

culture has badly damaged this scientific approach to life. An Anishinabe Ojibwa elder speaking to a folklorist in the Upper

Peninsula of Michigan described the use of dream in traditional Indian

society. He likened it to the white man’s idea of school. Children were

asked to relate their dreams to their elders. At large yearly sociopolitical

gatherings, dreamers were queried by experts in the community to see what

meaning their experiences had for the individual or the community. The

elder likened this to the process in white culture when “a lawyer goes

before the bar” (Dorson 1952, 32).

Robert Moss describes the traditional Iroquois approach to dreamtime

(2012, 4).

In 1647 a Jesuit reported back to his superiors that for this people

the “secret of the soul, especially as revealed in dreams” was considered the

most important aspect of life. There was a word for this: ondinnonk, which

Moss himself first heard in dreamtime and later in conversation with

Iroquois people. Dreams were shared in the community, scanned for

insights into the person, the community, the future, and the Spirit World. Society was built and maintained upon dream. Knowledge based on dreaming is not just a willy-nilly, uncontrolled

enterprise, but can be systematic and therefore a type of science, in the true sense of the word. The knowledge it provides can be accurate and deserved:

Wurtz and Kekulé deserved to know and their knowledge is the basis of

modern chemistry, physics, and medicine. The comparison of dream analysis by elders to going before the bar is

very insightful because the practice of law is based on a different paradigm

from standard science: “case law” or “case histories.” It is understood that

law is a human endeavor and therefore legal truth is based on empirical

experience and logic. Law, therefore, is built upon a series of case histories. Dream knowledge is like “case law”: it slowly builds up an edifice of

applicable personal and social understanding. Truth-Knowing

The thing about truth is: when you feel it, you know it and you have to

believe it. A spiritual test occurs at that moment: are you likely to accept

truth or reject it?

If you accept it you will henceforth have to acknowledge

that truth in your life. It might be inconvenient; you’re not going to make

money off it either. When the spirit directly reveals a truth to a person and

they reject it, the instrument of truth-knowing within them is permanently

damaged. Wrong behavior is forgivable, disbelieving external facts is

forgivable, but disbelieving truth is irreparable. The Inner Light

What is the instrument of truth-knowing?

This “detector” is personal and

subjective. There was originally no name for it in our culture—is that a

statement or what?

Since it was the center of their religion, Quakers

invented a term to fill the gap: the Inner or Inward Light. I learned about it

in Quaker First Day School and it was explained by my father at home. I

experienced it when I had my “mountain top experience,” when I knew that

Nature was alive and I had experienced a spiritual truth and I knew—even

at age eleven—that I had to believe it or forever lose my ability to know

spiritual truth. The Inner Light is often mistaken for “conscience,” but that is the

“whispering of the superego.” Still, like I said, listening to the superego is

good practice and better direction than a lot of other voices. Most of what I heard growing up in Quaker meeting was the “whispering of the superego.”

But people were trying to hear something to guide their life by—and that is

an endeavor worthy of us all. The idea that each person possesses the Inward Light, without reference

to anyone or anything else, is one of the two Quaker doctrines. The other is

that truth reveals itself in all times and places. So there is also an Inner

Truth which is knowable by the individual without regard to any external

source, doctrine, or person. These were my spiritual “training wheels” when

I was growing up. This might sound like the “everyone has their own truth” miasma, but it

is based on the naive assumption that there really is such a thing as “the

truth.” What the Quakers mean is that there is a real truth and everyone has

to seek for it, work for it, and deduce whether it is truth or not from the

feeling it gives them. During the churchianity era, one was supposed to believe what the

minister said, the church doctrine, or the Bible. During our own “scientific

era,” one is supposed to believe the conclusions and opinions of experts

published in scientific journals and parroted (or even misrepresented) by the

mainstream news industry. Without the ability to detect truth, animals could not survive, nor their

wounded kin, man, who still possesses animal instincts but not the ability to

believe them. We destroyed the connection between human and spirit, but

the connection between animal and spirit remained. That is why God told

Adam and Eve to take off the fig leaves and put on animal skins: “You are

animals. Don’t forget it. That is the only path implicit in your wounded

condition.”

I looked up the passage in the Gospel of John that inspired the Quaker

belief in the Inward Light: “In him was the life (zōḗ), and that life (zōḗ)

was the Light of the World” (John 1:4).

The Greek word zōion means

“animal” while zōḗ means “animal life.” When I looked up the usual

translations in various Bibles I almost always found that zōḗ was translated

as “eternal life.” I could hardly believe it!

These translators thought they

were representing the Word of God, but they were changing the meaning

completely. What John literally wrote was, the animal life was in Jesus and

that animal life was the “Light of the World,” the basis of truth-knowing. He could have put “eternal” in there himself, but he didn’t, so translators

should not either. Most people don’t have confidence in things spiritual. Many people

resort to authority figures or creeds. Or they imagine they are divining the

truth when they are just fantasizing. At least these people are trying. Most

people don’t even bother about spiritual life. What the Inner Light finds is Inner Truth. It comes in discrete words or

no words, in pictures or feelings. The common experience is that one just

“knows it is true.” Sometimes there is a background of silence when an

internal truth is revealed. Blavatsky called it the “voice of silence.” Don

Juan called it “silent knowledge.” The Hebrew prophets called it the “Word

of God.” The Quakers meet in silent meeting. The opposite of truth is falsehood and the opposite of silence is noise. We live in one of the noisiest societies imaginable. Not only are we

bombarded by words and images all the time but even by invisible electro-

magnetic signals. Most people don’t feel them, but a few people are

bothered by them. So it is a good thing to withdraw into silence or

meditation from time to time. Forests are a good place. Even a log cabin or

a sauna is a good environment because something about wood shields us

from the thought-vibrations of people in the world and the invisible electro-

magnetic signals that are constantly coursing through the air. The Instinct for Truth

One would think the ability to know truth would be a subject of study in

any culture, but this is not the case in the West: logic dominates over the

inner voice. Finally, I found a single psychiatrist who defined an internal

instrument for truth-knowing: Marie-Louise von Franz, who was one of

Jung’s most trusted students. This came out in her lectures on alchemy:

“One is capable of distinguishing the true from the false, [when] there arises

or grows within the personality what one could call the instinct of truth”

(Franz 1980, 172).

Von Franz attributes the appearance of this instinct to the approach of

“the Self,” the core integrative factor within the psyche—what I would

interpret as the soul being led by the spirit:

[W]hen the Self is so present and so strong ...

the instinct of truth

gets through quickly, like a radio telegram, and one reacts rightly,

without knowing why. It flows through one and one does the right

thing....

That is the action of the Self becoming immediate, and

only the Self can accomplish this. (Franz 1980, 172; punctuation

slightly altered)

What beautiful observations and statements!

And yet, we hardly ever

have such discussions in our culture. When von Franz wandered onto this

subject in her lecture, the students asked her to elucidate. From the

transcript it is clear they hadn’t heard of anything like this before. As we develop this faculty, the spirit is able to draw closer to the soul

because there is nothing in the spirit that is not true. Good Doctor von Franz

is correct. We start to automatically understand truth because there is less

and less space between soul and spirit. Through the instinct of the animal self, we know what is true and what

is not. The truth comes to us as a certainty, which we know in our body as a

kind of body knowledge. It generally cannot be conveyed by external

words, but only mind-to-mind or Nature-to-human. It also comes to the

person as a realization. Before, one knew nothing; now, something true has

been revealed. There are words in many languages and traditions for revelation. The

terms “silent knowledge” (don Juan), “inner truth” (Quakers), and

“realization” (Paramahansa Yogananda, Max Freedom Long) are

interchangeable. Body Knowledge

The animal self and the energy body (vital force or etheric body) give rise

to “body knowledge.” In occultism these two, plus the physical body, are

looked upon as a unit called the “lower vehicle,” or the vehicle for the

incarnation of the soul, which partakes of both the higher and the lower

dimensions and inputs. We can feel body knowledge, sometimes like a

shiver of recognition running down the spine. The knowing that comes from the energy body is what don Juan called

“seeing.” He explains to Carlos that although he described it as if it were

visual, it was actually something felt in the body. When it is fully

developed, all the senses are activated so that one sees and touches and

hears the truth. Or so I have heard. This creates a second body so that the

shaman can be in two places at once. I know only two people who have

seen a person who could be in two places at once. That can be a pretty mundane experience, by the way. Susan was having

breakfast when her teacher’s teacher showed up from northern Canada. “Ah...

Ah...

Do you want some breakfast?” she asked. “No, I’m looking

for Amos. I guess he’s not here.”

The term “lower vehicle” is not that good because it sounds like a value

judgment and the animal self in particular is deeply susceptible to

judgment. The way it thinks is like a dog: “lower is bad, so I’m bad!” So

this is not a term we will perpetuate in this book; although it is not

inaccurate to place the physical body, the animal self, and the energy body

together as a comprehensive “vehicle.”

Imagination and Fantasy

Human beings and animals can see images in their mind, and both can

dream, but only human beings can willfully focus on an image or hold it in

their mind’s eye. Because we have a conscious mind, we can choose which

thoughts and images to entertain. We can train our minds to grab and hold

on to fleeting images we would otherwise ignore, and then we can study

them meditatively. For this reason, the imagination is a characteristic of

humanity, not of animality. Aristotle taught that it was the ability to examine (rather than just have)

the imagination, plus the rational faculty, that made us human. Imagination

is the Tree of Life and logic is the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil,

to use the Biblical metaphor. The ability to examine images in the mind is

possible because of self-consciousness, which we gained at the foot of the

second of those Trees. William Blake also concluded that it was the imagination that made us

human. For the poet it is the root of our salvation from slavery in the world

of the ego, cut off from the rest of creation. This is why Blake spoke of

“Jesus the Divine Human Imagination.” Theologians excuse Blake’s

exuberant eccentricities, but he had it right: imagination is the faculty

through which we return to the spirit; it is the Spirit World itself. It is the

Tree of Life that binds together all of creation. The seer Jacob Boehme, who

greatly influenced Blake, traced vision to the core of existence: he saw the

“eye of the abyss” looking out at him from the “eternal unground.”

As we have seen, Blake differentiated between imagination and fantasy. Because it is so important, we can say it again: images that come from our memory or other people are qualitatively different from images that spring

up fresh in our own mind’s imagination. Blake called the “recycled images”

fantasies; although we should not judge them so much as differentiate them

from true imagination. The development of imagination requires careful

self-examination of the contents passing before the mind. “You have to

open the mind to let the image in, but snap it shut to catch it by the tail,

before it gets away.” That is such a perfect observation that I have to credit

it; it was said by my best friend on the spiritual path when I was young:

Peter Young. This opening and closing of the mind’s eye is analogous to the

discipline of the spiritual warrior, who learns to let go and grab hold in the

right proportion in the activities of life. As we discipline our outer lives, our

inner life follows suit. This is a lifelong process. When we meet up against

new challenges—like aging or a new love—we face the same challenges in

a new form. Thank you, Great Mystery, for letting me grow. One of the great teachers of “soul sight” was the American Rosicrucian

Pascal Beverley Randolph. He points out an important aspect of Plato’s

definition of sight:

The Platonic philosophy of vision is that it is the view of objects

really existing in interior light, which assume form; not according to

arbitrary laws, but according to the state of the mind. This light

unites with exterior light in the eye, and is thus drawn into a

sensuous or imaginative activity [Blake’s “fantasy”]; but, when the

outward light is separated, it reposes in its own serene atmosphere. It is, then, in this state of interior repose that all really inspired and

correct visions occur. (Randolph 1930, 83)

This is what don Juan called “silent knowledge.” When we hear the

spirit deep inside of us, it is usually accompanied by silence. Of course,

sometimes the spirit has to break through the clouds of our thoughts to get

to us because there is some kind of “spiritual emergency.” But a lot of the

time the silence is discernible. I believe it is this ability to descend to this

quiet and hear the spirit that gives rise to “spiritual seership.” Psychic

powers come from the psychic level, which primarily comes from the soul. Not only is the imagination our vehicle for return to the Spirit World; it

is the means by which we become co-creators in the grand theater of creation. By expanding in our imagination upon the scenery that flows by,

as we cruise along in our spiritual vehicle, so to speak, we change the

creation. As Jacob Boehme said, “magic” is the result of imagination,

desire, and will—the ability to fixate the attention. The capacity to see

images was present from the beginning of creation, according to the Book

of Genesis, for it is said that God made “man in his own image.” Before all

else, we are an image. Boehme observes something about vision that is remarkable. He says

there is an “eye in the abyss,” in the void at the source of creation. Vision

was first, before all else. The English word “see” implies both vision and

knowing. When we understand that we possess the wonderful gift of imagination,

we understand why it is that the plants and animals want to communicate

with us. They too possess an image, but not the ability to change the focus

of the internal images. When they are interacting with us they can

participate in the wonderful unfolding of creation through imagination,

magic, and even speech. There is so much that we owe to our animal

relatives, but the creative use of the imagination belongs to the human life-

wave alone. Herbal Preparations for the Journey

The first preparation for the spiritual journey, in almost any place in the

world, from the sweat lodge to St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome, is burning

incense or smudge. There are so many of these different kinds of incenses

and smudge sticks that one could not count them all. There are also

essential oils that serve the purpose. According to the teachings of the genius Abbess Hildegard von Bingen,

there is one plant that increases the power of animal within us, Angelica

(Angelica archangelica), and one that increases the human, Galangal

(Alpinia galangal).

The former is a native of Europe, the latter a trade item

from the “Spice Islands.” A smudge of Angelica root opens up the

imagination like no other vegetable teacher. Galangal strengthens the heart. We can also use the cousins/analogues of this plant: Bear Root

(Lomatium dissectum) and Oshá Root (Ligusticum porteri).

They are

members of the Apiaceae or Carrot family. All have brown, furry, oily roots that look like the paw of a bear, so they are all Bear Medicines and are

closely related, botanically and medicinally. Many members of the Carrot

family are abortifacients, some are moderately toxic, including the native

North American Angelica atropurpurea, and a few are deadly, like Conium

maculatum and the Cicutas. Ethnobotanist Kat Harrison says that in every Indigenous culture she

has ever visited, in every part of the world where Angelica or an analogue

grows, she has found that people wear it as a mojo. It is not only protective

against germs and bad vibes, but it is spiritually reinforcing and uplifting. It

was used in Europe for pestilence (contagious diseases).

It has a strong,

sweet/spicy scent that makes it also an incense or smudge. The European species (Angelica archangelica) is used in Sami medicine

in the far north of Scandinavia. It grows over to Greenland and down to the

Swiss Alps. Once upon a time, it was used as money in Iceland. The Indian

People of North America use a native Angelica, or a cousin like Oshá or

Lomatium “on the rocks,” in the sweat lodge. The major native Angelicas of

North America are the atropurpurea in the east, north, and south, and the

hendersonii in the Pacific Northwest. Various cousins called Oshá or

Oshalla are used in the Southwest and California, but as these are somewhat

uncommon, they should not be picked. Because it is easy to grow in the garden, Angelica archangelica ought to

be the preferred medicine, unless we need one of the others for a specific

reason. In New Mexican folk culture, Angelica is called “Angelica del

Campo,” or Angelica of the Garden, versus “Angelica del Montana,” the

wild mountain Oshá.

Angelica atropurpurea is extremely common in the

Eastern Woodland region so it can also be used as a smudge in place of the

garden variety. It is easy to establish a wild population. The interesting thing about these three plants is that they are suited to

journeying in the three worlds: Upper (Angelica), Middle (Lomatium), and

Lower (Ligusticum).

According to herbalist Seán O’Donoghue—and I

would agree—Angelica opens the inner eye of the imagination to the Upper

World, Oshá to the Lower World. Lomatium, on the other hand, helps a

person to control their own mind. That associates it with the Middle World

of the conscious self. BEAR MEDICINE

Because Bear goes into the cave every winter and sleeps for the duration,

his medicines are considered to be fundamental for learning how to enter

dreamtime. Bear Medicines are, in addition, very often brown, spicy,

warming, and oily. It is said that upon leaving the cave in the spring, Bear

seeks out these oily roots in order to fatten up and, at the same time—

because they are warming and stimulating—wake up the circulation. Because they are bitter, they also increase digestion and metabolism. The

bitterness is combined with some acridity—the taste associated with

hallucination (Peyote, Ayahuasca, psilocybin) and relaxation of the guts. There are about a half-dozen Bear Roots in North America, including

Angelica, Lomatium, Ligusticum, Aralia racemosa, Balsamorrhiza, and

Helianthus annuus (Sunflower).

There are at least two or three in Europe:

Burdock, the Latin name for which is Arctium, meaning “of the bear,”

Angelica archangelica, and Peucedanum ostruthium. Another group of Bear

Medicines are the berries, which bears like so much, especially Bearberry

(Arctostaphylos uva ursi), native to the New and Old Worlds. Elderberry

(Sambucus nigra, S. canadensis) is also a Bear Medicine, but it is

mentioned elsewhere. There is a third group, the digestive bitters. We won’t

discuss them here, but Angelica is on that list too. Angelica

(Angelica archangelica)

The name Angelica hearkens back to medieval Catholic folk religion and

medicine—it is reported that a priest had a vision that the plant was for

pestilence. There are two types of Angelicas in Europe, but one is superior

to the other in medicinal potency—probably the reason it was named

“archangelica.”

Angelica is bitter, sweet, acrid, spicy, warming, and oily. It increases

lipids but is drying to internal water. The native Angelicas are called

Grizzly Bear Medicine in some areas of Indian Country—California, the

Dakotas, and Minnesota. Since it is a hunting and fishing medicine, it is

also assigned to Elk—the tops spread out like antlers. It is used to hide the

odor of the hunter and relax him. Some of its botanical cousins are

attractive to deer and elk. Since the seed and root are gently warming and drying, Angelica is

classified in astrology as a solar remedy, and its medicinal properties will be

more fully described under the Sun Medicines. For now, we are just using

the dried root as a smudge. Angelica is an old and universal shaman remedy. It is used by the Sami

in northern Scandinavia as a journeying plant. The signature here is the

hollow-tubed stalk, which represents both the passage to another dimension

and probably acted as a smoking tube. Angelica root is a great remedy for

opening the imagination. For this, we burn the dried root in an open room

on some charcoal. The sweet savor is extremely pleasant and one feels the

“sphincter of the mind” open and relax and the imagination gently unfold. It

helps one fall asleep at night and awaken refreshed in the morning. Lomatium, Bear Root, Biscuitroot

(Lomatium dissectum)

This is a member of the family native to the northern Rocky Mountains,

from Montana to the Pacific Coast. The root is warming, drying, bitter,

sweet, acrid, spicy, and oily—more oily and sweet than Angelica. It

contains various kinds of coumarin compounds, like Angelica atropurpurea,

that are toxic to microbes, but can cause severe skin rashes and probably

mucosal inflammation. This is a very interesting plant because it was a specific in the flu

epidemic of 1918.

Ernst T. Krebs, M. D., the Bureau of Indian Affairs doctor

for the Washoe Indian Reservation in Nevada, published a 1920 article, “An

Indian Remedy for Influenza,” in the Bulletin of the Nevada State Board of

Health. In it, he writes:

During the fall of 1918 when the influenza epidemic visited this

section of Nevada, the Washoe Indians used a root in the treatment

of their sick which was gathered along the foot-hills of this slope of

the Sierra. The plant proved to be a rare species of the parsley

family (Leptotaenia dissectum),* according to a report from the

University of California. Whether a coincidence or not, there was not a single death in the

Washoe tribe from influenza or its complications, although Indians

living in other parts of the State where the root did not grow died in

numbers. It was such a remarkable coincidence that the root was

investigated by a practicing physician who was apparently helping

hopeless cases recover without any other medication or care of any

kind. A preparation was prepared and employed in a great many

cases among the whites, from the mildest to the most virulent types

of influenza, and it proved, among other things, that it is the nearest

approach we have today to a specific in epidemic influenza and the

accompanying pneumonia. Where used early, it proved itself to be

reliable agent in preventing pulmonary complications. Other

physicians were induced to give it a trial, with the same results. It is

beyond the experimental stage, as its therapeutic action in this

direction is established and beyond any doubt. The cases in which it

has been used run into the hundreds. There is probably no

therapeutic agent so valuable in the treatment of influenzal

pneumonia and, as far as being tried, in ordinary lobar pneumonia if

started early. Its action on coughs is more certain than the opiate

expectorants and its benefit is lasting. It acts as a powerful tonic to

the respiratory mucous membranes. It is a bronchial, intestinal and

urinary antiseptic and is excreted by these organs. It seems to

stimulate the pneogastrics [i. e., the pneumogastric or vagus nerve]

and causes a slow pulse with increased volume and reduced tension. It is a pronounced diaphoretic and somewhat diuretic, and it is a

stimulating and sedative expectorant. In large doses it is a laxative,

and in extreme doses emetic. (Krebs 1920, 7–8)

When I first came down with coronavirus, I woke with a heart rate of

about 150.

I took a bit of Lomatium over the next several minutes and the

pulse returned to normal. I am sure I would have had those “pulmonary

complications” Dr. Krebs referred to. Instead, I had a long, drawn-out case

with mild heart symptoms that lasted three months. The plant said to me: “I

am for things that are out of control.” It didn’t really help much throughout

the long course of the illness. I used Holly and Nigella and finally White

Pine. The effect of Lomatium upon the mind is very useful on the shamanic

or meditative path because it gives a person the ability to control the

relentless chatter and constant self-dialoguing of the mind. For this purpose, it would be best to use as a smudge but some of us living outside of its

range only have the tincture. This is one of the two Native American invisibility remedies. I

mentioned this in an article I once wrote and afterward I started to see this

little old Indian gramma around—in the bank, on the freeway. I was always

behind her and she didn’t see me. After two weeks we met in dreamtime. She had been hired to kill me for mentioning this usage in public— to make

me have a traffic accident. She smiled at me and I smiled at her. She knew it

was an impossible assignment. Anyway, she’d been paid (that’s why I was

allowed to stand behind her in line at the bank) and she was warned to

watch for the magic when it went back to her (that’s why I saw her in her

car).

Neither one of us would get hurt—but someone was out some money. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter that much if we mention magical facts in

public because virtually nobody in the dominant society believes us. The

few who do don’t have enough power to use them, and almost all

Indigenous people dismiss non-Indigenous “shamans” as dilettantes. Magic

always protects itself; it is invisible. But Mystery is better than magic. Oshá Root

(Ligusticum porteri, L. gregii)

The name comes from the Spanish for “bear” (osa).

There are more

environmental and cultural issues involved with this member of the trio—it

is less frequently encountered (except at high altitudes, where it is hard to

pick since the roots intertwine with poplar).

Some picking grounds

traditionally belong to Native and New Mexican families. Therefore, I’m

not going to recommend Oshá.

It is difficult to grow in the garden, though

not impossible. “Uncle Henry,” a relative of my deceased friend Tony

Seifert, grew it in his garden in central New Mexico. “So much for the

report that it can’t be grown in a garden!” commented Tony. Unlike Angelica, Lomatium and Oshá are not classified—to my

knowledge—as Elk Medicines. Although all are warming and stimulating to

the circulation, and warming, drying, and stimulating to the digestion and

respiratory tract, from the shamanic standpoint their actions are slightly

different. Lomatium “controls the mind.” Oshá Root is similar to Angelica, but causes the imagination to look downward, whereas Angelica causes one

to look upward. *I give the original quotations from these authorities in Holistic Medicine and the Extracellular Matrix (2021a, 8–9).

*In the original article, Krebs used the Latin name Leptotoemia dissecta, a misspelling of Leptotaenia dissectum, a now-discontinued name. I have substituted the correct spelling. 5

Don Juan’s “Island of the Tonal”

All the world’s a stage,

And all the men and women merely players;

They have their exits and their entrances,

And one man in his time plays many parts,

His acts being seven ages. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, AS YOU LIKE IT

The only place the student can start the journey of self-transformation is

with the only material available to him or her at the beginning: our ordinary

waking consciousness. Even here shamanism presents us with an

intrinsically different view from psychology. Freud defined the ego as the focal point of consciousness, but there are

subsidiary components of consciousness that the ego has to manage. This

includes the conscious self (“I don’t wanna fall asleep and become

unconscious”), the biological self (“I wanna get drunk and pass out”), the

social persona (“I want people to like or look up to me”), and the inner self

(“I want to be emotionally and spiritually fulfilled”).

The ego is the center

and the regulator of this rebellious household. All of these components are conscious and independent to one degree or

another, though competition infers dominance and submission, and that

means that different selves are being pushed forward to consciousness or

back into unconsciousness at any given moment. For example, the conscious self is like a monk who wants to remain conscious at all times,

wants to join “pure consciousness,” have total control over the body, sexual

system, and heart, leaving sensation and feeling behind, while the biological

self wants to eat, drink, party, and get laid. The one thing all of these components have in common is that they

require consciousness in order to be developed and they communicate by

talking. Therefore, they can all be lumped together as parts of what Max

Freedom Long called the “talking self,” translating the Hawaiian uhane. The social persona is constructed by talking to other people, the soul by

talking to oneself; the monk reads scriptures, but the biological self asks for

another drink. The persona and conscious self prefer consciousness to rule as much of

the time as possible, while the biological self and the soul need sleep in

order to refresh themselves. The soul searches for its romantic counterpart

and wants to be connected. It can lose itself in the unconsciousness of

connection, or find spiritual fulfillment and increased consciousness

through connection. The Island of the Tonal

All of these selves are like actors on a stage, so we need a good term to

describe the stage. Here, as in so many instances, don Juan crafted the term. He saw the conscious world as an “island” surrounded by the unknown and

called it the island of the tonal. The word that comes closest to “conscious

self” in nagualism is the Nahuatl word tonal. Specifically, this means the

animal totem that guards the psychic components belonging to

consciousness, while the nagual is the animal totem conjoined with

dreamtime. Don Juan’s Native apprentices use the words “tonal” and “nagual” as

they are used in Mexican nagualism, but don Juan translated the word

“tonal” somewhat differently for Carlos, his Spanish-American apprentice. He defined it as the self-conscious being, and the island of the tonal as the

sum total of everything it knows and experiences. The nagual is the

unimaginable power lurking in the unknown beyond the island. Don Juan

would say the tonal keeps us imprisoned on its island. We know of nothing

outside of it but we yearn for that unknown freedom. There are also mysteries we have experienced on the island but not

explored, and some of these are worth pursuing. The sincere attempt to

search creates its own momentum for change. Each day in the Mayan calendar has a different tonal: Mayan children

still receive their names from the day on which they were born, so the tonal

is similar to a person’s astrological sign or chart in Western culture. We

have already noted that there may be an animal for the physical body and

one for the spirit body. The former gives us access to the instinct for truth,

while the latter gives us the eyes and ears of the spirit self. The Mayan

calendar name gives a remarkable profile for the conscious human self,

including spiritual tendencies. I wish to thank Gianni Crow, a Mayan-born

calendar-keeper, for the classes I was able to attend on this remarkable

tradition. The Outer Self and the Inner

In our daily lives we feel an ongoing tension between an inner and an outer

self. We feel the tension between the two in our social relationships. When

we say “I need to be true to myself,” we are fighting for the inner self. A

part of us craves the approval and love of those outer persons, but in

conforming to their wishes and expectations we may sacrifice our “real

self.”

Jung identified the outer self as the “personality” or social person, or

even the “mask” we wear in public, versus the inner self or “individuality”

that we maintain and develop through meaningful experience. The external

component he named the persona, from the Latin word for “mask.” The

idea is that we put a mask between ourselves and others to prevent being

emotionally impacted too deeply by the scrapes of life that daily confront us

in the social world. This theme percolated into the movie The Mask (1994),

starring Jim Carrey and Cameron Diaz. As in that movie, a person can get

trapped in the mask. One might think of the persona as a totally superficial

entity, but within it Jung detected heroic qualities (1954, 171): “It is an act

of courage flung in the face of life, the absolute affirmation of all that

constitutes the individual, the most successful adaptation to the universal

conditions of existence coupled with the greatest possible freedom of self-

determination.”

In the same passage, Jung also remarks that because it derives from our

best efforts to adapt to the external pressures placed upon us by the

environment, “Personality is the supreme realization of the innate

idiosyncrasy of a living being.” This definition reminds us of spiritual

warriorship. Indeed, the persona is the part of us that develops the skills of

war, because it must survive in the outer world. It is the part of ourselves

that is naturally geared toward strategy. It works with the reptilian self,

which is geared to survival. We need to put this talented soul-part to work for us on the spiritual

path. We do this first by constructing our social mask more consciously, so

that we are not wasting energy fighting with the outer world and other

people; we want to slip through the social waters smoothly, like a canoe on

a still lake. Additionally, the persona is the master of strategy and therefore

we can put it to work stalking or tracking our own egoic attachments, so

that we understand our energy-wasting quirks and shortcomings. Unfortunately, Jung felt that the average person in society identified

with their persona as if it were their “true self,” rather than with their native

inner self. This occurs when one is living one’s life unconsciously; not

examining what is meaningful but identifying with social definitions rather

than personal ones. Jung identified the inner self with individuality. We protect it, hide it,

and build it like a pearl in an oyster. We are an individual to the extent that

we develop our sense of who we are, allowing the voice of the inner self to

emerge and mature. Jung called this process “individuation” because we are

becoming a true individual, not just a product of social influences. The outer self is more closely related to the ego, while the inner self is

essentially equivalent to what we call the soul in the English language. The

word psyche, from the Greek for “soul,” signifies all functions, conscious

and unconscious, which can be experienced or analyzed, so it includes the

ego, id, and superego, and is not technically equivalent to the English word

“soul.” It is similar to the concept of the island of the tonal. In The Heart and Its Healing Plants (2024) Wolf-Dieter Storl describes

traditional remedies for the soul. He explains how the soul is identified with

the heart in countless traditions and describes the many herbs traditionally

used, especially in premodern European folk cultures, to treat conditions of

the heart/soul. The pages are full of shamanic and herbal lore; I highly

recommend this book as an adjunct to A Shamanic Herbal. Conscious Self and Biological Self

The other major polarity within the island of the tonal is between

consciousness and biological imperatives, or the conscious self and the

biological self. The former wants us to stay conscious all the time and

resents biological needs like eating, sleeping, drinking, partying, and sex. The biological self, on the other hand, likes to be immersed in biological

needs. It is like an unruly teenager, the other like an overly moralistic

parent. The needs of the biological self come from the reptilian back brain, so

we can use the terms reptilian self and biological self interchangeably. The

kundalini, the “serpent power” in the spine and nerves, is described in Vedic

philosophy. It descends down the spine from the back brain and throughout

the nervous system. The higher seat of the biological self is the back brain, or reptilian brain. This is the seat of our survival and reproductive instincts and drives. This

part of us can talk to the conscious self. This is because our most basic

survival needs have to be brought to consciousness and voiced in order to

compete with the other elements of consciousness. The battle between the “seed of the woman” and the “seed of the

serpent” described in the Book of Genesis represents the continuous,

circular enmeshment of the conscious self and the biological in an unending

strife that typifies the post-Edenic situation of mankind. Both are entrapped

and tortured. The symbol in the Greek tradition is the ouroboros, or

“serpent biting its tail.” This is like the Wheel of Dharma in Vedic

teachings. The ability of the biological self to talk only comes up occasionally. When the blood sugar goes very low, the conscious self is turned down to

the lowest notch because it is more important for basic life-survival

processes to continue than consciousness. This is why a Sunday School

teacher will swear like a sailor until she gets enough sugar to raise the

blood-sugar level back up to censorship levels. Afterward, the person

remembers nothing because the conscious mind was turned off during the

experience. The biological self gives us healthy animal instincts in order to survive

in the world, but it also traps us in biological urges, just as the conscious

self traps us in urges to maintain consciousness. Ironically, these same animal instincts are the origin of the instinct for truth, so the poison is the

cure. This is another reason why the caduceus of Asclepius, the serpent

climbing the green leafy staff, is a symbol for medicine. Then there is the ego, whose job it is to control all of this—another

contender for “king of the hill” on the unruly island of the tonal—while

maintaining a smooth persona so that nobody suspects one is having

difficulties that would undercut social position. Gurdjieff’s “Kundabuffer”

George Gurdjieff named the internal “installation” that the conscious self

makes to protect itself against the upsurging biological self the kundabuffer. As the name suggests, it is a “buffer” between the conscious self and the

kundalini. According to Gurdjieff, the kundalini produces fantasies that convey its

desires to consciousness. The conscious self is constantly fighting against

them but the fantasies still rise to consciousness and promote a life based on

them. This life, however, is an illusion because it is based on fantasy. The

life lived in fantasy provides the energy that perpetuates the kundabuffer. Gurdjieff says that each time a person imagines an outcome that is not

actualized in the outer world, the kundabuffer is active and it is being

manipulated through fantasies sent up by the kundalini. In contrast,

imagination arises from what is true. If the person cannot fulfill the dream,

they still fight for it constantly. If they give up, the battle for spiritual

authenticity within themselves is diminished. The spirit generates images,

dreams, art, creativity, literature—what we call inspiration—in order for us

to fulfill its directives. If we follow a fantasy and try to actualize it, it will lead us nowhere. The soul is able to differentiate between fantasy and imagination. Even the

conscious self has this ability, since fantasies diminish consciousness. However, it is the ego that ultimately chooses which stream of

consciousness to go with. The images streaming to the soul led us on “the

path with heart” (don Juan), or the path that will actualize our soul during

our lifetime. Fantasy life is never fulfillable. The Medicine Wheel of the Tonal

The Mayan calendar name is laid out in the form of a cross with four equal

sides. This is the tonal in the original sense, before don Juan and Carlos got

ahold of it. The symbol of the equal-sided cross is the sign of wholeness,

according to Jung, who found it in worldwide mythology and the dreams of

his patients. His theory emerged shortly after his visit to New Mexico,

where the state flag and a lot of Native art bears this symbol. Jung gave it

the technical names quaternio (Latin) or mandala (Sanskrit), but this has

been replaced by “medicine wheel,” introduced by Sun Bear and Wabun. The British occultist Arthur Edward Waite named it the “Celtic Cross.”

Native spiritual writers and teachers in the late twentieth century, such

as Sun Bear and Vine Deloria, Jr., were well aware of Jung’s work and

appreciated having an ally within the dominant culture. It must be

remembered that until 1978, when the federal American Indian Religious

Freedom Act was passed, Indian spirituality and religion was illegal. Unfortunately, in the last several decades, almost all institutions of higher

education in the United States have stripped Jungian programs from their

psychology offerings. From the Jungian perspective, the quaternio represents wholeness

breaking through into the world where we humans skulk about in self-

consciousness. It represents the whole, the truth, and healing coming into

our lives. He also related the quaternio to the four “functions” of the

psyche: intuition, rationality, emotion, and physical sensation. However,

this symbol or “archetype” (in the Jungian sense), appears in many different

settings, in all regions of the psyche. Jung considered the quaternio a

psychologically charged symbol emanating from deep in the “collective

unconscious” of the human race. Native Americans consider it to be alive. Here is a map of the medicine wheel of the conscious realm:

The Ego

We could identify the point in the middle of the cross with the ego, the ruler

of the island of consciousness. The ego is the dial that decides which of

these four poles to focus on. All four competing factors function under the

direction of the ego. Or at least, the ego tries to keep them under control. Sometimes the ego identifies with one element of the island of the tonal,

at other times with another. This fivefold constellation pulls together as a

whole being, especially when threatened by danger. The biological self

takes over when there is a great threat. A lot of people have the “egoic dial” stuck on a fixed point. They are

satisfied with themselves. They don’t see or feel the need for substantive

change. Even if they receive a message from the Spirit World, they don’t do

anything about it. The Egoic Will

The ego has a strong will of its own in order to subordinate all these

conflicting selves. This is called the “egoic will” or “gall.” A person who

pushes their own agenda forcefully is said to have “a lot of gall” in English. It definitely can be said that the ego is the most forceful component on the

island of the tonal; that is how it manages to control the others. In China a “spirit” or “soul” called the hun is said to reside in the

gallbladder. A general or a politician with a strong will is said to have a “big

gallbladder,” while a coward has but a small one. An old-fashioned

American expression for a person who lacks gall is a “yellowbelly.”

Through evolution, our assemblage point has become the servant of the

ego, so the egoic will is basically the assemblage point. After death it

becomes the shade that records all shifts in attention a person experienced

during life. It is like a blackboard with the writings of a lifetime recorded on

it. “In the dissolution of a certain plane, there is nothing left but the shadow

or reflection” (Raleigh, 1932, 18).

Many people just grind on and on over the same little piece of

blackboard, not visiting anything new: their record would make

exceedingly boring reading. On the other hand, one could ride with the

assemblage point to the farthest corners of creation. To have a meaningful

life, we have to scribble all over the blackboard. In the afterlife, the shade has no will of its own because it no longer

possesses the force of life to cause it to change positions. All that remains of

our decisions are our attractions and repulsions, not actual shifts

demonstrating free will. This is why people become “who they really are”

after death. This is also the basis of the theory of reincarnation: the soul,

purified of its dross, is no longer attracted to the processes of purification in

the Land of the Dead, but is attracted to life and returns to Earth. I was treating a young man, about twenty, who was bothered by

persistent daydreams of skeletons and skulls. These would be pretty normal

for some people—to judge by the prevalence of these images in our culture

—but he felt them as foreign intrusions. “You’re being bothered by the bone

soul,” I commented. I didn’t consciously choose the term but it seemed the

best way to say it and it just came out of my mouth. His mother, an

Orthodox Jew, said: “Oh, we have the bone soul.” She knew what I meant. I

gave him White Oak bark tincture because it is such a hard, bonelike tree. It

easily took care of the problem. The Superego

Finally, we reach the center of the city, at the end of the Yellow Brick Road. At the center we meet the man behind the curtain pushing all the levers, the

Wizard of Oz. It is Toto that tugs away the curtain to reveal the old guy,

huffing and puffing. Friendly as he turns out to be, the Wizard cannot

actually help Dorothy. The superego is nothing more than a false god, but

he was never ill-intentioned: he wanted to direct our steps on a good path. He didn’t want us to fall into the hands of the Wicked Witch. Then the true power of Oz appears, the Good Witch of the North, with

her supernatural magic wand. With it, and the deepest desire of Dorothy’s

soul, Glinda returns the girl and her dog home. When Dorothy wakes up, all

the same people are there but now their true spirits are shining through

them, revealing the wonder behind ordinary life. Dorothy’s world will

continue as before, but shining with spiritual light. Her desire has been

empowered by her will (the magic wand) and she has learned many lessons

in the Spirit World. Losing the Human Form Don Juan constantly stressed to Carlos the importance of “losing the human

form.” He never described what the “human form” was, but Castaneda

himself gave an excellent description of what it felt like to lose it. The

process started in his head and moved down through his body. It was as if

some congestion broke up in his brain, then moved downward, giving the

sensation of tension—first in the head, then down through the jaws, neck,

torso, pelvis, limbs, and so on, all the way down to the feet. This is the sensation that occurs when the hard, crystallized thoughtform

a person lives within breaks up and is removed from the energy body. Until

that time, the person is living inside a rigid mental thoughtform that doesn’t

change. The dial in the brain is stuck in one position. The blackboard is

pretty boring. Afterward they become flexible and capable of “processing”

and “moving energy through their system.” It is easier now to be empathic. That is not exactly an advantage, since it is quite unpleasant to have

people’s energy moving through oneself. However, we can now fully

experience ourselves as human beings because we are conscious of our own

emotions, as well as others’, and can fully feel and integrate experiences

from outside ourselves. Also, the animal instincts, physical sensations, and

energy awareness—the doppelganger—will “go out before” the person,

screening the psychic atmosphere for opposition and trouble. An empath

has to have a developed animal self or he or she will get into trouble. Some people have a rigid “human form” or rigid “mental body.”

Castaneda would be a good example. This kind of person has a fixed mind

that makes it difficult for outside thoughts and feelings to enter into them. There is also the opposite type: people who are so porous that other

people’s thoughts and feelings enter them all the time, but unconsciously, so

that they identify other people’s emotions as their own. One of Castaneda’s

fellow apprentices, La Gorda, had this problem. For her, the challenge of

losing the human form was to gain control over her own space. When both

broke through their human form, they became much more capable of

gaining spiritual insights. It was from this point on that Castaneda began to

remember the teachings that don Juan had inculcated into his energy body

in dreamtime—they had been unconscious up to then. The “Soul-and-Spirit” or “Self”

Both Rudolf Steiner and Carl Jung described a process whereby the human

soul or individuality became increasingly permeated by a higher “spiritual”

(Steiner) or “numinous” (Jung) power. Steiner called the resulting structure

within the individual the “soul-and-spirit,” as if the two began to merge. Jung spoke of the appearance of “the self” as the wholeness coming from

within. Even this was not tame enough for his critics, who accused him of

introducing “God.”

Jung called the process of becoming an individual “individuation.” This

leads to the “realization of the self,” or identification with the “true self” at

the core of a human being:

I call this centre the “self,” which should be understood as the

totality of the psyche. The self is not only the centre, but also the

whole circumference which embraces both conscious and

unconscious; it is the centre of this totality, just as the ego is the

centre of consciousness. (Jung 1993, par. 44)

Several symbols represent the self for Jung. One is a circle with a dot in

the middle. This is the glyph for the Sun in astrology, which has a value

very much like the self. Lest we accuse Jung of taking this concept from

astrology, the argument can also be reversed: modern astrology became

more psychological due to the influence of Freud and Jung. A second symbol for the self is the point at the intersection of the arms

of an equal-sided cross. This is also the symbol for the ego. As a person

individuates, the self gains more strength and the ego comes more under its

power. This represents the integration of opposites necessary to complete

the process of individuation. The actualization of all four psychic functions

(thinking, feeling, sensation, intuition), rather than overreliance on one or

two or three, contributes to the realization of the self. A third symbol for the self that Jung identified is the yin and yang

symbol. This shows the unification of the darkness of the unconscious with

the light of consciousness. It shows that the person is willing to face the

shadows of unactualized internal psychic contents. Plants as Teachers and Medicines Almost all plants have a specific setting of the assemblage point that is

more or less permanent. Therefore, they can shift the focus of our

assemblage point to theirs. Some of them are hallucinogens, but all of them

have a “self” that can teach us something. “Cure” is a form of change of

focus. Some plants, like Agrimony, can “change the environment” around

us. Plant “doctors” are even better than human teachers in a way because

they don’t misunderstand, have irritating qualities, or change on us—like

every single human being. It is very seldom that we ever have a problem

with a plant—although there are a few challenging ones, like Datura. WOLF MEDICINE

I always considered the signature for Wolf Medicine to be a ninety-degree

angle or the equal-sided cross. This represented the extreme change

between Wolf and Dog; also the Wolf remedies have to do with gallbladder

energy: choice, change, even magic. Later I learned from Native herbalist

Karyn Sanders that her signature for Wolf Medicine was the circle. We are

both right. The circle and the square are opposites. Both are contained

within the Medicine Wheel. Nature is cyclical and circular. As it is said: “Nature abhors a square.”

Yet the circular year is divided into four quadrants, so the square is implied

in the circle. Wolf abhors a fence because he is the great geometer of the

animal kingdom, instinctually calculating the angle necessary to run down

an elderly or sick animal with the least expenditure of energy. Wolf is both circular and angular: in the unfenced wilderness the wolf

pack constantly circles the caribou herd, smelling the scat, observing the

plants being eaten, thinning out the elderly and the sick. Yet, when the chase

is on, Wolf is an instinctive mathematician, getting just the right angle to

run down the cervid. Wolf therefore incarnates both the circle and the

square. One sees them in a plant like Solomon’s Seal, which possesses the

circular seal on the stalk but also the right angle as the vertical stem shoots

up from the horizontal rhizome. The ninety-degree angle is evident in

Werewolf Root as well as Agrimony. The four angles of the Medicine Wheel imply the fifth element, the

point in the middle, the quintessence or fifth essence, which completes,

unifies, incarnates through, and constantly rejuvenates and changes the four

elements. Therefore, the pentagram is also a Wolf Medicine signature. This is the signature of the human hand, which indicates the power to effect

change. In practical terms we are talking about plants with five leaves—

Osmorrhiza, Potentilla, Aesculus, and so forth. The circle represents the unbroken wholeness of Nature, while the cross

represents the fixation of the focus and the fifth essence indicates the ability

to change the focus. Wolf Medicine therefore represents the wholeness and

harmony of the cyclical natural world, the tension between complementary

opposites (Wolf and Dog, wild and domestic), and the ability to fix or

change the setting of the tumblers. Thus, Wolf Medicine is associated with

magic and shapeshifting. The hand or pentangle shape is also associated

with Dragon Medicine. Wolf is the companion of the Lord of the Underworld, the Keeper of the

Animals, while Dog is the companion of Man, the domesticator of animals. In the natural world, the wolves do keep the animals in balance, trimming

the flocks, from the largest elks to little mice, removing the elderly and the

sick in the circular dance of birth and death. Wolf Medicines act on the tension between the wild and the domestic,

the animal self and the ego, the stomach (instinct) and the gallbladder

(conscious decision-making), the status quo and change, the environment

and oneself, the mundane and the magical. In modern psychotherapy and herbal counseling, most practitioners

think in terms of helping a person cope with or master their situation, but

the shamanic herb can change the environment. The tumblers shift under

the influence of medicine plants like Agrimony, Cinquefoil, Solomon’s

Seal, and Werewolf Root. Agrimony

(Agrimonia eupatoria, A. grysopetela)

Dr. Edward Bach taught us that Agrimony (A. eupatoria) is the remedy for

those who hide their pain behind a façade. The Agrimony person is either

too suave and sophisticated, or outwardly jovial and inwardly tortured, or in

some way hiding his or her true inner state through the elevation of the

persona. Sometimes also holding their breath. I use the North American native, Sweet Agrimony (A. grysopetela), in

place of the European eupatoria. It works interchangeably, although the sweetness gives the herb a more nutritive quality. I harvest the leaves from

the sides of the stalk—one must not take the leader of the pack on the end—

and prefer this to the flower essence. On the physical level, Agrimony is a

superlative remedy for both psychological and physical tension. Since

tension cuts down on the local sanguification of the tissue, atrophy will

appear after a while. Sweet Agrimony is an excellent remedy when atrophy

is present. Agrimony and its cousin Cinquefoil (Potentilla spp.) are very powerful

and easy-to-use magical plants. They have the ability to change the focus of

consciousness. I wrote nearly forty pages on this subject in The Book of

Herbal Wisdom (1997, 85–111), so I’m not going to repeat myself. However, here’s a “magical case history” someone sent me after the

publication of that book. The names, of course, have been changed. When I began reading The Book of Herbal Wisdom, I was

interning at this small homestead farm with a guy named

Jack. He and his wife Mary were old-fashioned vegetarians of

the no-salt, no-oil, no-flavor variety, and meals would often

consist solely of steamed vegetables. This was problematic

for me because I was working for room and board and didn’t

have a kitchen of my own at my disposal. The saving grace

was that they kept ten goats, whose milk was basically my

sole source of protein. Some tension developed, however,

because Mary wanted to sell more of the milk than was

available with the three of us consuming it, and I wanted my

sole source of protein. As this was going on, I read your

chapter on Agrimony and Cinquefoil in The Book of Herbal

Wisdom. I thought I’d try taking a sprig of Cinquefoil, which

was growing all over the place there, and putting it in the

refrigerator, which seemed like the energetic center of the

tension. The next day, Mary came up to me and said: “Hey

Tom, what if we bought you a gallon or two of raw cow’s milk

every week so that we have enough goat’s milk to sell?” Up

until that point everything had been silent passive aggression. Cinquefoil worked it out!

My view of Agrimony was enlarged recently by Erica Fargione, herb

teacher at Minneapolis Community Technical College. She has used

Agrimony successfully more than ten times to put Tourette’s syndrome in

long-term remission. That’s the opposite of our usual indication: instead of

an prominent façade, there is no façade. The Tourette’s person says what

would embarrass everyone else. So we see that this is the remedy for the

persona, whether it is too strong or too weak. Erica uses Sweet Agrimony

as well. Recently, I learned another part of the Agrimony picture. Dorothy Hall

also subscribed to Dr. Bach’s picture of the Agrimony temperament (1988,

77–80).

She used this herb for lack of good timing in digestive function. This used to be a big problem with malaria, when the liver/gallbladder,

stomach, and intestinal functions would get disturbed by the constant chills

and sympathetic tension running through them. I used to see a few such

cases among older Southerners, who had malaria from their youth—like our

generation has Lyme disease—but this symptom has “died out” with the

passage of time. Occasionally, however, it still comes up for influenzal

symptoms. One night I had a touch of the flu, with body aches, slight chills, and

digestive upset. By this time the plants would sometimes talk to me and

Agrimony “showed” me how my stomach and the intestine were separated:

they were not timed together at all. The stomach was bloated and the food

was stuck and couldn’t get down to the intestine. Agrimony also showed me

the difference between the “animal instincts,” felt in the stomach, and the

“gut-level instincts,” felt in the intestines. The former are more formed and

articulated, while the latter are more primitive and undeveloped. I didn’t

even need to take Agrimony—once I had been shown all of this, the

symptoms settled down. One client had chills and fever with tension so severe that it pulled the

hips out of the hip sockets. Ouch!

She was a bright, cheerful person—a

constitutional Agrimony—so I suggested the remedy and within a day she

was resting comfortably. But the magic happened when I hung up the

phone. Agrimony said: “You can tell I’m a Wolf Medicine because of the

leaflet on the end; it’s the leader of the pack.” This is why we are not to pick

the leaflet on the end; only the leaves on the sides. I believe I reported the first part of the following case in The Book of

Herbal Wisdom. A frail, middle-aged woman had a persistent high white blood count, but not enough to be diagnosed as a leukemia. She was

exhausted, tense from work, slender, sallow, and atrophic. I asked her if

something set off the white count. A spider bite. No façade that I could

detect, but Agrimony (for the tension and atrophy) cured the case. Twenty

years later, I got a call from her friends. She had been going back to her

house when a snake crawled out of a woodpile. This was just a little garter

snake—we don’t have big snakes in Minnesota—but she was so terrified

she had to leave her house and moved in with her accommodating daughter

and her family. I was called over to the house and took the case history. I

was going to use the Sweet Agrimony for sure, as a “constitutional.” As I

was zeroing in on a second remedy for her, I described how the deer don’t

like to be out in the center of the field, where the predators can get to them,

or in the woods, where they are safer yet there is no food, but on the edges,

where the food is and safety is close by. She almost jumped out of the chair:

“That’s me!

I want to be at the edge of the field; not in the middle!” I gave

her Sweet Leaf (Monarda fistulosa), a Deer Medicine. In a week, she was

back in her house. I should have mentioned to her that although cervids are

not predators, they will jump up and down on snakes to kill them; also, their

hooves are sharp enough to kill an unwary dog. Cinquefoil

(Potentilla erecta)

Cinquefoil has an ancient reputation as a magical plant in both Europe and

North America. As the names indicate, this plant has five leaves (cinquefoil)

and magical power (potentilla).

The eighteenth-century Mohegan medicine

man Samson Occom called it “Five Finger Leaf.” John Goodyer, in his

1655 English translation of Dioscorides’s De Materia Medica, noted that

this plant “being poured on the hands ...

is excellent good against fears &

enchantments” (Gunther 1968, 436).

For this purpose, both Agrimony and

Cinquefoil can be used, as well as other Potentillas and even some cousins

in the Geum (Avens) clan. The leaves of Cinquefoil are used to unblock energy interfering with

one’s calling or occupation, or problems between employers and

employees, landlords and tenants, or other hierarchical relationships. I

discussed Cinquefoil and Agrimony at length in The Book of Herbal Wisdom. Strangely, this is the single most reliable thing I know in herbal

medicine: Cinquefoil or Agrimony will smooth out hierarchical problems in

a totally fair way. If you are in the wrong, they will work against you. If you

are in the right, take them to court. In The Earthwise Herbal (2008–2009, 1:400), I told the story about how

I used Cinquefoil for a friend who was suffering from a life-threatening

asthmatic attack. When I walked into the room and saw her, I said: “My

God, death is in your aura.” My energy body reacted sharply, because the

asthma was so dire. My asthmatic friend was “tortured to capture her breath.” That’s an

indication for Agrimony or Cinquefoil, a plant that looks super tense. I went

out in the twilight and found some Cinquefoil; it looked even more tortured

than usual and was all over the sides of the yard. The woman’s relief was almost instantaneous and she would always say

for years, “That was the last terrible asthmatic attack I ever had”—though

she had many lesser ones. Her husband often said to me, “Those words

were so exact for her: she was ‘tortured to capture the breath.’ We thought

she was going to die.”

“Tortured to capture the breath” is what we call a “specific indication”

in herbal medicine. It is so specific that it indicates only one remedy—or a

small group. At the same time it points to a basic pathological condition that

corresponds to the nature of the plant. In this case: tension. We see tension

in the bristling appearance of the plant (the signature), the psychology, and

the physiology. This phrase goes back to one of Dr. Bach’s friends, in the 1930s. When I

included it in The Earthwise Herbal Repertory (2016), an overzealous

copyeditor changed it to “tortured capture of the breath.” I couldn’t believe

it. There was no need to revise the phrase and she changed the meaning

entirely. It is terrible to see someone who can’t capture their breath; they

truly are tortured. “Tortured capture of the breath” would mean that when

they finally catch their breath they are still tortured. But that makes no

sense, because capturing the breath gives the ultimate relief. In herbalism,

as in medicine and shamanism, words are exact. They can capture the

essence of the energy or miss it completely. These types of phrases and

specific indications arise from experience, and that is an invaluable

resource. My Muskogee teacher would sometimes mention a specific

symptom—enunciating it slowly—handing on specific indications that were perhaps thousands of years old. I had to go over my manuscript to make

sure the copyeditor had not removed any of these entries. When “death is in the aura” it really shakes up the energy body, as in the

above case. I felt the same with Susan when death left her body: “Susan,

death is leaving your body—right now!” She got mad at me for scaring her. Solomon’s Seal

(Polygonatum spp.)

This is one of my favorite medicinal plants and one of the most widely

applicable of any I know—it loosens, tightens, and nourishes tendons, so it

is excellent for the joints. It appears to act on the fibroblasts, chondroblasts,

osteoblasts, and tendon-generating cells, so it is wonderful for the

connective tissue and has been used from time immemorial in this arena. I

have already written extensively about the medicinal properties in The Book

of Herbal Wisdom (1997, 397–406) and elsewhere. It is a Wolf Medicine

par excellence, and combines well with Agrimony. Solomon was the wise king and therefore magical knowledge was

assigned to him. The plant Solomon’s Seal or sigillum Salomonis was

named after him because of the little circles on the roots—they look like

magical “sigils” (signs) used by magicians to call spirits. The Latin name is

Polygonatum multiflorum. We can also use the ornamental P. odoratum var. variegatum. Solomon’s Seal helps a person be in the flow of things, improves one’s

timing, the swing of the baseball bat, and helps us adapt to changes that

were too precipitous. It is worn as a mojo. Otherwise, it is a great remedy

for tendons, ligaments, bones, and joints. It adjusts them to the right

tension, even structures that have been altered by surgery. Solomon’s Seal is identified as “High John the Conqueror” by Crellin

and Philpott (1990) in their treatment of the old Georgia herbalist Tommie

Bass. It is named after King Solomon, the king associated with wisdom,

because the scars on the rhizomes look like a magical “sigil” or “seal.” The

rhizome, cut in half, can actually display what looks like a letter “S.”

This is a very important plant in Afro-American folk medicine. High

John was specifically used by enslaved people to prevent being struck. In

the Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, An American Slave (1845, 66–73), Douglass describes how he was being beaten and whipped by the

“slave-breaker,” so he ran away into the woods. There he met an old black

root doctor named Sandy Jenkins, who told him he was going to have to go

back, but he would give him a root that would make it impossible for

anyone to strike him. Douglass did not identify it, but it was certainly some

version of High John (more than one plant is known by that name), and

probably Solomon’s Seal. He went back, fought with the slave-breaker for

an hour, and no one ever touched him again. I had an email from a young woman who wanted an herb like the one

Sandy Jenkins gave Frederick Douglass because her husband would strike

her and she didn’t have family or friends to go to. After I sent her the root

she figured out how to get him to stop. Eventually, she left him. Solomon’s Seal rhizomes have another important property. Herbalist

Cathy Skipper, who has worked in the U. K., France, and the U. S., explained

that Solomon’s Seal is for the “resonance in the bones, memories stored in

the bones. It guards the resonance of the person after the person has passed

on. It smells like burnt bones.” Remember what I said about the shadow

that goes down into the ground when a person dies. I did not know that this

needed protection. Cathy added, “It can loosen people up so that their feelings can really

come out,” bring realignment in family trauma, and “shift people.” Here

again it would combine well with Agrimony or Cinquefoil. Swani Simon, another friend, an herbalist in Saarland, Germany, told an

interesting story. “An old man had a dream about a plant. He dreamed about

it again. He found out it could be Solomon’s Seal. He talked to his priest

about it. He was a Christian, but he wanted some of the plant.” Swani sent

him some at his request and he wrote back: “Now I know I am ready to pass

on.” She didn’t hear from him again. Swani has also used Solomon’s Seal for spondylosis, which is hard to

heal. This agrees with John Gerard’s comment in 1633 that it is used

“among the vulgar sort of people in Hampshire” for setting bones and for

swellings on the bones, in themselves and their cattle Gerard (1975, 906).

(My Muskogee teacher commented: “You got to watch out what those

‘vulgar people’ know.”)

Solomon’s Seal heals simple connective tissue problems, but if it is used

for serious problems the person may have to change. This shows us how

Solomon’s Seal is a Wolf Medicine. One day I was teaching in upstate New York about fifteen years ago,

and a student had a family emergency and was forced to leave early. I said,

“You need a good-luck remedy.” I was inspired by Harry Potter’s good-luck

potion, but I didn’t have that on hand so I had to make one up: Solomon’s

Seal, Cinquefoil (or Agrimony), and Ghostpipe. For environmental reasons,

I’d prefer the reader use Rabbit Tobacco instead of Ghostpipe. Claudia Keel, an herbalist from New York City, was sitting nearby and

perked up. “Hey,” she said, “Wait, wait—I want to know Matt Wood’s

Good-Luck Remedy!” So she wrote it down. Otherwise it would have been

lost. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. Later I forgot about it but Claudia

had significant good luck and she told her story while introducing me for a

class ten years later. I said: “Wait, wait—I want to know my Good-Luck

Remedy!” We not only have to find the medicine, we have to grasp it before

it gets away. Claudia and her husband needed a break desparately. She saw a raffle

with the winning ticket getting an all-expenses-paid vacation. She bought

some, she put the formula on the tickets, they won, and got their well-

deserved vacation. Solomon’s Seal helps you be in the right place at the right time. Cinquefoil or Agrimony gets rid of blockages of disbelief in yourself (so it

doesn’t matter whether you believe in this remedy or not) or blockages from

interfering people. Rabbit Tobacco changes the dial on the other side so that

we can access all the possibilities. But this is only a formula for “good

luck,” not for changing your destiny. Solomon’s Seal is also a magical herb in ancient Taoist medicine. There

is a good report about it by Heiner Fruehauf (2016), the founder of the

College of Classical Chinese Medicine. He tells us that it entered Chinese

herbalism more through the Taoist magical and alchemical tradition than

through the standard Chinese medical world. One of the most relaxing combinations I know is: seven parts

Agrimony, four parts Solomon’s Seal. This relaxes the mind and body. Another good combination is: seven parts Hawthorn and one to four parts

Solomon’s Seal. This opens the rib cage and the circulation to the heart,

thymus, and lungs. Solomon’s Seal is not overpicked—yet—but the person who wants to

use it should grow it or spread it in the wild. This is a plant that requires

payment. He Who Must Not Be Named, my Muskogee teacher, treated a friend of mine with Solomon’s Seal for poisoning from red tide. He said:

“You’re going to have to make a payment when this plant heals you. Your

destiny is going to change.” After she recovered, she had to move to a

different state. No return of the disease after twenty years. Werewolf Root

(Apocynum androsaemifolium)

This is an extremely powerful medicine plant. It told me to call it

“Werewolf Root.” This is the plant used in the Grand Medicine Society to

teach people how to shift their assemblage point. Movement of the

assemblage point is what causes shapeshifting. Every little change of

consciousness or refocusing of the mind is a shapeshift, but the little shifts

are normal. Some shamans are reputed to change into animals. If the animal rules

the human, then the shaman shapeshifts into an animal. Then the person is

forced to become that animal; they don’t have a choice. If the human rules

the animal, then he or she can appear as a human in two places at once. This

is a forceful plant; you don’t play with it. You don’t pick it or use it unless

life is in the balance. The motto of Werewolf Root is: Change or die. If the

person has suffered a life-changing injury (like a deer-tick bite), a

concussion, or stands to be destroyed spiritually or physically, the remedy is

appropriate. The person who is not at this extremity may have a change

brought down upon them that is life-changing. I mentioned an asthmatic case under Cinquefoil. After that remedy, I

gave Werewolf Root. It too helped. What I didn’t know was that this

woman had been touched by a werewolf and this had started the whole

condition:

When I was thirteen, I woke up in the night and felt compelled

to go to the window and look out. On the roof of the back

porch I saw a little figure that was part man and part fox,

dressed in a little coat and standing on two legs. As I looked

at him, his head turned and our eyes met. I went into a shock

that brought on my asthma. He Who Must Not Be Named visited a year later and commented: “He was

a relative, so he didn’t kill you.”

The egoic will naturally conflicts with the spiritual will—which is

“stored in the kidneys,” according to traditional Chinese medicine. The

kidneys hold the fleck of fire that is the “pilot light” for all the yang or fire

in the body. It is like a fire “on loan from the spirit.” Our spirit is not able to

incarnate fully on Earth, but provides the basic support for our life here. The primal jing or essence is also stored in the reins or kidneys; it is the

source of the primal yin and yang. The “qi of the abyss” (the primal

constitutional energy) is also stored in the kidneys. So, Werewolf Root works out problems between the egoic will and the

spiritual will. That is why it is so powerful. I described this medicine in The

Book of Herbal Wisdom (1997, 130–31).

I only give drop doses,

occasionally. On a mundane level, this plant is a gallbladder medicine: it is

used when the stool is gray from lack of bile and an inactive gallbladder. SWALLOW MEDICINE

The Celandine plant could be considered a Wolf Medicine, but European

folk tradition has long tied it to the swallow. It is an excellent remedy for a

too-strong ego. Richard Folkard, in Plant Lore, Legends, and Lyrics, writes

(1884, 143):

The ancients entertained a strong belief that birds were gifted with

the knowledge of herbs....

Aristotle, Pliny, Dioscorides, and the

old herbalists and botanical writers, all concur in stating that

Swallows were in the habit of plucking Celandine (Chelidonium),

and applying it to the eyes of their young. The late Maurice Mességué, the famous Gascon herbalist, describes

being shown by his father how the swallows rubbed the leaf on the eyes of

their hatchlings to open them up when they were gummed shut (Mességué

1991, 8).

His father was a country herbalist, hunter, and woodsman in the

period between the World Wars. Even then, in his remote village, Mességué

senior was a disappearing breed. The word Chelidonium means “of the swallow” in Latin, and Celandine

is sometimes known as “Swallow Wort” in English. Another old English name is “Kenning Wort.” The word “kenning” refers both to seeing and

knowing, as in the Scotch “I ken,” much like our English “I see.” So, this

plant is associated both with seeing and knowing. Because the tail of the swallow fans apart at an angle—like a Masonic

compass—Swallow Medicine is similar to Wolf Medicine and is associated

with the sphincter of the mind, mental focus, and egoic will. In Wolf

Medicine, there is a conflict between the ego and the spirit. In Gentian, it is

between the ego and the animal self. In Celandine, it is between the egoic

will and “kenning.” There is really no other word for it: knowledge,

material, occult, or spiritual. It is one of the few remedies for abusing occult

knowledge or trying to “storm the gates of heaven” with hallucinogens or

egoic will. In ordinary practice, however, Chelidonium is usually just a

remedy for gallbladder problems, migraines, or a bit of egotism. Celandine

(Chelidonium majus)

The sap of the leaf produces a bright orange-yellow juice that is a capital

signature for the bile. The leaves are lobular—a signature long associated

with the liver. Chelidonium is a hot, bitter remedy that gets the gallbladder

going when there is jaundice, stones, or underactivity that needs a

stimulant. There may be thickening of the bile, congestion, mucus, and

stones. It is also associated with people with a strong ego or egoic will. That

is not, of course, a bad thing entirely. I don’t get to use it much for this, but

I have seen it cut down on “me-me-me-ism.”

Chelidonium has a symptom that came up in the homeopathic provings

of its cousin Opium: a person sees a terrifying image and can’t get it out of

his or her mind. I once helped an otherwise healthy three-year-old boy who

had seen a scary cartoon character six months before on TV (this was in

pre-computer days).

Chelidonium in dilution cured him in under a month. The mother thought it was just that he got over it. She couldn’t see. Chelidonium is indicated in cases of people who abuse occult powers

due to a strong ego and the belief that they can control the forces of Nature

and personality. It is also for people who mess up their brain by trying to

“storm the gates of heaven,” as Peter Young, my friend and fellow student

on the esoteric path put it; they take hallucinogens or try too hard to achieve spiritual goals through spiritual exercises or drugs. It may also be for old

people who are starting to become confused after a lifetime of strong

mentality—one case only. Look for a coating on the tongue that goes all the

way to the tip, indicating “phlegm” obscuring thought. The tip of the tongue

is the reference point for the brain. Chelidonium is the great remedy for migraine with sensitivity to light. The symptoms were brought out in homeopathic provings in the nineteenth

century. This kind of migraine is called “gallbladder headache” in

traditional Chinese medicine because the pain ascends the gallbladder

meridian: is felt at the occiput and then across the temporal bones, on one

side, into the eye, and sometimes down to the cheekbone. It has cured

scores of cases. Chelidonium has an ancient reputation in cataracts that is deserved. The

formula: put some fresh Celandine leaf juice into goat’s milk and apply

externally. I know of several instances where this has worked and I have

seen it once myself. It worked in less than two weeks!

It is also called the

“Strabismus Herb” in Swedish, I am told. The plant is very active and

should be used in small doses (1–3 drops; 10 is the maximum even in

conventional dosing).

The tincture is made from the leaves. HORSE MEDICINE

I learned most of my Horse Medicine from Sara Annon, a “horse shaman”

(I would call her) in New Mexico; my friend Susan, who dreamed with her

two or three horses; and my friend Peter Young. The horse is an extremely

sensitive animal. One element of that sensitivity shows in their ability to

synchronize their hearts to the same beat. In a herd they synchronize their

hearts so that if one horse has an increase in heart rate from fear, the rest of

the tribe knows there is danger. They can perceive a human heartbeat only

feet away. Because they are so sensitive, horses can attune to people with

deep neurological problems, like autism. During the coronavirus pandemic, a considerable number of horse-

owners had trouble with their horses because the vaccine caused the horses

not to be able to recognize their owners. This was substantiated in many

cases of which I am aware. Usually the alienation passed after several

months. However, the incidence of myocarditis, pericarditis, and other cardiovascular effects among the vaccinated is widely reported. Many

unvaccinated covid survivors also have suffered cardiac effects. How was such a sensitive animal as the horse domesticated?

Probably

through direct mind-link or dreaming, suggested Sara. Susan always dreams

with her horses; they show her things and bring her places in the Spirit

World. The white horse and the black horse would always come to her. She

would always take the black horse, which would go downward, while the

white horse would stay in the conscious world. Peter also dreamed of being

in herds of horses—hundreds of times. Sara proposes that there was originally a group of people who

specialized in knowledge of horses; how to call, train, ride, and care for

them. This group would have existed as a “mystery school” or shamanic

society, like the Masons and other trade guilds, passing on the secrets,

dreams, spiritual wisdom, and genetic linkages associated with Horse from

generation to generation. She believes they were particularly associated

with what became the Spanish warhorse, which was a valuable military

weapon in the premodern era. Imported to the New World, this became the

“Indian pony” of the Great Plains. Unfortunately, the federal government,

under both Presidents Trump and Biden, has chosen to exterminate the wild

horses on public lands—over 95% of them are gone as I write—so the wild

pony is facing extinction at the hands of our overdomesticated species. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse

The cultus of the horse shaman has survived the ages, according to Sara. It

is the source of the story of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, which

shows up at the end of the Christian Bible. The Lakota Holy Man Black Elk

had a similar dream of Six Grandfathers and the Four Horses a few years

before the Black Robes (priests) showed up. This is a vision that rises out of

the horses themselves. Sadly, it is a vision which seems to occur when a

society is facing annihilation—just as is pictured in the Book of

Revelations. In 1875 it was the Lakota Nation; now it is the dominant

culture of the world. Horses, like many animals, come in four basic colors: white, black, red,

and “yellow” or “pale.” These four colors of horses usually have four basic

kinds of personalities, corresponding to the four horsemen. The black horse occurs due to a dominant gene, explained Sara. The other colors are hidden

within the black horse because they are carried on recessive genes. The black horse is associated with darkness and absence of light, which

is always associated with the unconscious—and therefore with the process

of going within, willingly or not. In the Book of Revelations, the rider of

the black horse holds a scale and represents economic tyranny and collapse,

resulting in food scarcity and famine. However, the scales also represent

justice. The ultimate place of justice is the Underworld, where the dead are

judged and we have to face the karma of our actions. The white horse occurs due to a withholding of pigment; it doesn’t flow

into the hair, so to speak, and as Sara notes, white horses usually have

tumors under their skin and don’t live as long as the other horses. The loss

of pigment is an unhealthy characteristic. Susan agreed, “Yeah, my white

horse had tumors and didn’t live that long.” The white horse represents the

opposite or complement of the black: the realm of the conscious or egoic

mind. The god of the conscious mind today is science, and the high

priesthood of science is medicine (represented by white).

The corruption of

the medical system is characteristic of our time. Revelation (18:23) says that in the end times the population will perish

by pharmakeia, which more or less means “the use of potions.” The usual

English translation is “witchcraft,” but the word speaks for itself in this era

of medication run amok. I met one other person who understood this

interpretation—the herbalist David Christopher, son of the legendary

herbalist John Christopher. The red horse is represented by the brown, chestnut, red-brown, and

reddish colors. These horses are known for being feisty and difficult to

handle. “The stereotypical red chestnut,” says Sara, is known for its

“impetuous, irritable, untrainable nature.” It is easy to see the connection to

blood, passion, and conflict. The red horse and rider “take peace” from the

world and introduce social strife. They represent the impulses of the blood

untrained and rampant becoming dominant in social affairs. Violence of

thought and language, as well as action, represents the red horse. Looking

around, as I write, we see a lot of evidence of the red horse—social division

and name-calling everywhere. The fourth horse is the pale horse. The original Greek word in

Revelation (6:8) is chlōros, meaning “pale, bleached out” or “yellow.” For

example, a chlorotic plant is yellow, pale, and bleached out. Chlōros does not designate a complete lack of color. In equine terms, it refers to the

palominos and various shades of yellow, gray, and pink that are pale, says

Sara. Genetically, they contain all color possibilities and when two are bred

together, anything can happen. The pale horse is associated with pestilence (epidemic disease) and

death in the Bible. The Clint Eastwood movie Pale Rider (1985), features a

mysterious man who comes to correct social imbalances. His origin is

unknown, but he wears a minister’s collar and is named “Preacher” by the

people who take him in. He carries scars from bullets that indicate that he

should be dead. He has survived death and is, as a consequence, melded

with Death. “Preacher” has a supernatural or holy aspect that is never fully

explained. Conscious constructs (medicine and science), economic tyranny and

famine, factionalism and war, are all visible powers, but the pale rider is

associated with something unseen and invisible—the eruption of an

overwhelming power from the unseen worlds. Like “Preacher,” it is unclear

where this power comes from, what it is doing, or how things will end. On

the mundane level, one is reminded of the infiltration of ideas into the

unconscious from the news and entertainment industries. This invisible

influence reinforces the tribal blood lusts of the red horseman. Like the

black and white horses, the red and pale are opposites and complements. There is a fifth horse, the Medicine Hat or Paint, which is produced by a

very rare recessive gene. It was exterminated by European breeders and is

only found nowadays among the Indian ponies of North America—which

are unfortunately being decimated by the federal government. The Paint is

generally white with a red-brown forehead and ears. Sometimes there is a

big spot like a shield on the chest. They can look as if they had been

splashed by paint. Sometimes they have one or both eyes blue. The more

distinctive the markings, the more prized the horse. As the name Medicine Hat reveals, this horse is thought to have special

powers. They are considered harder to see, so they were thought to have the

ability to protect their riders from danger and protect them in battle (Fought

2020).

Some people have visionary experiences just from their presence. This, suggests my mentor in Horse Medicine, Sara, is why this kind of

horse may have been exterminated in Europe. Horse Medicine Plants

Horse Medicines strengthen the heart and therefore they overlap a

considerable amount with Lion and Sun Medicines. I have placed most of

the direct heart remedies in the latter category. Both St. John’s Wort and Centaury are classified as herbs of the Sun in

Western astrology because they are gently warming and drying. Sun

remedies are like sunlight vaporizing the puddles on the sidewalk; Mars

remedies are hot and fiery. However, both plants are also associated with

horses or centaurs. There is a connection between the Sun and the horse;

Apollo is pulled across the sky by his chariot and horses. St. John’s Wort

flowers on or around Midsummer Day, the sunniest day of the year. In addition, both of these plants have alternating leaves on the stalks

that produce “crosses” when looked at from above. The four-sided cross is

both a symbol of the Sun (like the flag of New Mexico) and of the four

colors of the Horse Nation; but it is also a Wolf Medicine signature because

these animals are the “geometers” of the animal world—wolves are major

predators on the horse. Coltsfoot is named because it grows along the side of the road—in the

old days, the horse path. It is perhaps another Horse Medicine. Aesculus

hippocastanum (Horse Chestnut) is used for calming the muscles of horses

when they ripple with tension. St. John’s Wort

(Hypericum perforatum)

There is a great deal of interesting lore about St. John’s Wort; partly

because it is so valuable in injuries and wounds, but also because it has such

a long history of religious and magical connotations. It is one of the major

items in the materia medica of the medieval Catholic peasantry, who

associated plants with Jesus, Mary, the saints, King Solomon, and other

biblical figures. It was called St. John’s Wort because it blooms on or close

to Midsummer Day, the feast day of St. John the Baptist. It continues

blooming until late August. The leaves bear a red-pigmented oil that was

likened to the blood of John, who was beheaded by King Herod at the

request of Salome. Hypericum was adopted into homeopathy. It is considered a mighty remedy here, as in herbalism, and is used on similar

indications. The residence of John the Baptist, living in the wilderness, from which

he obtained his clothing and food, as well as his association with

midsummer, when the “green power” is at its peak, suggested an association

with the “Green Man.” This is not only an important figure in northern

Europe, where green summer contrasts with white winter, but in the Middle

East, where the lush greenery contrasts with the stark desert. It is possible

the two are connected: during the Roman period, merchants, migrants, and

soldiers carried ideas and cults from one end of the empire to another. In the north the Green Man never seems to have been a god but more of

a representational figure, like the Statue of Liberty. In the Middle East,

however, his origins (and destination) are more complex. The ancient

Canaanites recognized a God called Kothar: wherever he sat, green foliage

sprang up. He appears in the Hebrew Bible as Jethro, the Priest of Midian

and the father-in-law of Moses. His role as a priest is intentionally

diminished: he was only allowed to give Moses advice about time

management, not spiritual matters. He is also mentioned in the Qur’an. Muhammad also tamed him, but did not entirely remove his spiritual

associations. He is called the “Servant of the One” and identified not by

name but by his residence, which was between the “two seas,” the Red and

the Gulf of Aqaba. This, of course, is where Jethro lived. His name,

pronounced “Yitro” in Hebrew, survived as Yasser in Palestine. Neither the Hebrews, the Christians, nor the Muslims have been able to

whip this religion. Today the “Servant of the One” survives as the prophet

of the Druze, who are the still-surviving descendants of the Canaanites. The

cult of John the Baptist also survived in the desert of western Iraq, although

it may have been displaced by ISIS. This strange history does not end here, which is testimony to the

enduring importance of oral history and folklore in the region. When the

Greek writings of Hermes were encountered by the followers of

Muhammad, he was identified with this individual and he became Idris in

Arabic. As monotheism swept the Middle East, the last citadel of paganism

survived in Harran, birthplace of Abraham and mother city of the three

Abrahamic religions. In 830 the Caliph of Baghdad, Al-Ma’mun, on his

way to fight the Byzantine Greeks, encountered people along the road in

Harran who were not dressed like Christians, Jews, or Muslims (the “allowed religions”).

On inquiry, he was told they were the pagans of

Harran, worshippers in the ancient Temple of the Moon. He told the leaders

of the city that, by the time he returned, they must become members of one

of the “allowed religions” or they would be wiped out. Al-Ma’mun never

returned from the crusade, but the leaders of Harran took his threat

seriously. They consulted an Islamic religious authority, who informed them

that there was an additional “allowed religion” called the Sabians. Nobody

knew who they were, so if they declared Saba to be their prophet and

adopted some scriptures attributed to him, they would escape censure. Ironically, the Sabians were the followers of John the Baptist, a few

thousand of whom still survived in the desert south of Harran. We can see

how the associations interwove in such a way as to be a bit believable. The pagans of Harran continued to exist for another two hundred years

and contributed greatly to the culture of Mesopotamia but were eventually

annihilated by another group of pagans, the Mongols. A thousand miles

away, the Mongol generals had determined that Harran was in a strategic

location where they didn’t want a citadel, and the inhabitants either had to

abandon the city or they would come and reduce the citadel themselves. By

this point it had, in fact, been eclipsed as a city and was more of a military

settlement. It was abandoned and the Hermetic Writings were brought to

Constantinople and from there, eventually to Renaissance Italy, where they

were translated by Marsilio Ficino under the care of Cosimo de’ Medici, in

another fabled city. Trithemius of Sponheim studied in Florence with

Ficino, and his students, Paracelsus and Agrippa von Nettesheim,

popularized the teachings of Hermes. St. John’s Wort is a member of the Guttiferaceae family. It is native to

Kothar’s territory—the Levant. Finding compatible ground on other

hardscrabble hills and plains, it has spread throughout the world, and is now

found on every continent, and is considered a noxious weed wherever cattle

are raised. It causes sunburn and irritation of the skin in cattle that have

been fed on large amounts of it, to the extent that they can die, and it can

cause sun sensitivity in humans. It is the reason most grazing cattle today

have been selected for their black coat. The green leaves have tiny glands that sunlight shines through, like

windows. Here, the photosensitive red oils are generated. They are also

present in the flowers, which are the part we use. They are picked and

placed in alcohol or an oil—often left in the sun. The important constituents are better extracted in oil, but the blood-red color and the constituents come

out in both mediums, turning the tinctures and oils red. This is a “signature”

for St. John’s Wort usage in healing wounds. Traditionally, the flowers are extracted in olive oil, letting the bottle

stand for forty days in the sun. So valuable was this oil that it was taken to

the Holy Land by the Crusaders—or more probably, brought back by them

from the land of its nativity. St. John’s Wort may also have been looked

upon as a form of spiritual blessing and protection for the crusaders, since,

when looked at from overhead, the alternating leaf stalks along the main

stalk look like an equal-sided cross. St. John’s Wort and Wood Betony were the two most important

remedies for psychiatric medicine in the Middle Ages; in other words, they

were used for protection against “demons and witchcraft.” Consequently,

St. John’s Wort fumigant was also known as fuga demonum, Latin for

“devil take flight.” One old English name for it is Devil Scare. Fuga can mean “fleeing, escape” or simply “flight.” The plant was also

associated with flying off with the faeries. In Brittany it was reported that a

young girl who stepped on St. John’s Wort in the evening would ride on a

faery horse until morning. Father Sebastian Kneipp, the great water-cure

priest—who was also an herbalist—called Hypericum the “plant of the

faeries.”

There is more to this than mere folklore. The late Kim Dudley, of

Canberra, reported that one side effect of St. John’s Wort was the “sensation

of levitation.” I would have laughed at this but I experienced it myself. In

fact, I re-enacted the sensation in front of a girlfriend and she actually

grabbed me because she also felt the sensation that I was going to levitate. I

put the remedy down: I didn’t have enough nerve to actually levitate—

opportunity missed!

This was a mixture of St. John’s Wort, Cat’s Ears Lily,

and something else. Good thing I forgot that last ingredient!

Hitching a ride to the New World, St. John’s Wort was adopted by the

Indian People. My Muskogee teacher passed on the observation of his

teacher: “We don’t know who St. John was, but we know he was an

important man to the white people, so we know this is an important plant.”

He taught too that it protected the house against lightning. The practitioners who really understood this plant were the late Dorothy

Hall, of New South Wales, and one of her favorite students, the

aforementioned Kim Dudley, of Canberra. Dorothy must be given credit for being the first to develop a constitutional profile for St. John’s Wort, but

this was deepened in curious and interesting directions by Kim, who was a

profound thinker and philosopher of Nature. I have relied on unpublished

notes taken from several lectures by Kim on St. John’s Wort (Dudley 2012)

and the account in Dorothy Hall’s Herbal Medicine (1988, 266–70).

Pharmacology

Hypericum is known to contain flavonoids, phenolic acids, hypericin and

pseudohypericin (and their precursors), hyperforin (and allied compounds),

tannins, volatile oils, saturated fatty acids, alkanols, vitamins,

sesquiterpenes, and small traces of other compounds. The hypericin,

hyperforin, and similar compounds found in the red glands on the leaves,

causing the beautiful red color in the tinctures, are proto-porphyrins. As

medicinal constituents go, they are pretty much unique; I don’t think there

is another plant that I use that contains them. This accounts for their unique

properties; I couldn’t understand St. John’s Wort until I read about

porphyrins, which are sensitive to sunlight. It is traditional to pick the

flowers for medicine at midsummer, when the sunlight is acting on it most

strongly, and to make the blood-red oil and tinctures in sunlight. Most of the attributed properties of Hypericum in traditional and

scientific literature are related to hypericin, but the effects are due to

complex synergies that are still to be determined. This includes the famous

mild antidepressant action and the antiviral and antibacterial capacities. Possible anti-mutagenic properties are also attributed to this herb. Porphyrins

These square-shaped molecules are pigmented photosensitive compounds

that facilitate the use of oxygen by life-forms. Chlorophyll in plants and the

heme molecule in hemoglobin are both porphyrins, as are the cytochrome

enzymes. Basically, porphyrins are used by all living beings to deal with the

highly reactive oxygen atoms that will oxidize or tear down organic

molecules wherever and whenever they can. For a detailed, well-

documented account of porphyrins, see chapter 10 of Arthur Firstenberg’s

The Invisible Rainbow: A History of Electricity and Life (2020).

The

following list shows the properties of porphyrins and the use of St. John’s

Wort (in italics):

1.

The heme in hemoglobin facilitates the exchange of oxygen and

carbon dioxide in the blood. A minor remedy in anemia and

malnutrition. Culpeper (1652, 69) writes that it “strengthens parts

that are weak & feeble.” This description also fits the following. 2.

Cytochrome c enzyme facilitates cellular metabolism. Kim used it for

nervous weakness, nervous breakdown, dribbling from weak bladder,

and such conditions; often combined with Wood Betony. “Brings the

nerves back to life.” Used for detached tissue. 3.

Cytochrome oxidase facilitates oxygen uptake in the lungs. Not used

to facilitate oxygen exchange, except as a tetanus remedy, reducing

respiratory spasms. This usage is documented in the old homeopathic

literature. 4.

Cytochrome P450 facilitates phase I pathway in liver and cell

metabolism. Well known for facilitating the cytochrome P-450

enzyme in Phase 1 of metabolism in the liver and cells. 5.

Porphyrins facilitate nerve flow in the myelin sheaths and nerves. Traditionally used for severed and severely injured nerves. Many

herbalists—including Dorothy, Kim, and myself—have seen and

collected horrible case histories of severed and severely cut limbs

dramatically healed. 6.

Porphyrins facilitate the piezoelectric current on the surface of the

bone. Bone-healing, especially non-healing fractures. Kim Dudley

collected many case histories. 7.

Porphyrins are active in pain receptors and promote the relief of pain. Pain relief. There is hardly an herbalist that cannot testify to this. 8.

Porphyrins relieve mild depression (perhaps due to the pain-relieving

influence).

A major remedy for moderate depression, especially

seasonal adjustive disorder (SAD).

9.

Influenza season is aggravated by lack of sunshine in the winter. Contains calciferol (vitamin D).

A known antiviral, but differential

symptoms are lacking. I have rendered detailed accounts of the medicinal properties in The

Book of Herbal Wisdom (1997, 307–15), The Earthwise Herbal (2008, I:

293–96), and Holistic Medicine and the Extracellular Matrix (2021a, 72–

73, 101, 118).

Electricity

St. John’s Wort was traditionally used to prevent lightning from striking the

house, by putting it on the house. This may have been suggested by the

appearance of the plant from above: it looks like a cross. This fits with its

use in nerve and piezoelectric tissues and suggests a relevance all the way

down to the ground regulatory system in the extracellular matrix. Kim

comments: “St. John’s Wort can protect you from lightning or attract it.” I

wish I knew how he limited that to the repellent action. It does look

possible that Hypericum is remedial for electromagnetic-field (EMF)

problems. These are more prevalent than one would suppose. Arthur

Firstenberg covers the effects of EMFs in his book The Invisible Rainbow

(2020).

The ground regulatory system of the extracellular matrix relies on

changes in fixed electrical charges in the polymers in the matrix in order to

send signals to and from cells. This unifies the entire organism, on the

cellular level, into a single whole being. St. John’s Wort ought to have an

action on this level, but it would be hard to observe and document. The next

level of electrical organization involves the piezoelectric charge on the

bones and connective tissue. This is facilitated by the fascia, which store the

body memory. “Baptism in the Theater of War”

Kim notes that St. John’s Wort is the “treatment for baptism in the theater of

war.” It is “good for all injuries of war, especially in the days when horses

were around.” A horse bites the finger or there is a cut from a rusty metal;

tetanus sets in. Horse serum is used to provide vaccination against tetanus. Kim had a case of stuttering in a man who suffered a “machine gun

wound forty years ago” that “never healed.” The feet hurt badly; he had

plantar fasciitis on the soles of his feet, which became tender. The feet, the

stutter, and the wound all improved with St. John’s Wort. Kim had another

case where a Vietnam vet was suffering from cyclothymia: “unstable

moods, aggressive outbursts; wild, untamed fury; huge mood swings, often

seen in post-traumatic survivors.” He “slowly stopped traumatizing his

family.” Kim also cites the homeopath Margaret Tyler (Homoeopathic Drug

Pictures), regarding a soldier who had a bad shoulder wound, with great

pain, from his service in WWI. Constitution

Dorothy Hall describes the constitutional type in her book and unpublished

lectures. She says “St. John’s Wort people” have a sensitive nervous system

and skin, and are therefore heir to numerous spontaneous skin problems

innate to their oversensitive constitutions, including sunburn, skin rashes,

eczema, and allergic reactions to plants and insect bites that would hardly

bother another person. The St. John’s Wort person often has prominent white fibers in the iris. These are interpreted as evidence of nerve intensity, meaning the person has

a strong and sensitive—one would say, overreactive—nervous system. They

are innately irritable, not angry or overstimulated, but easily irritated and

impatient. St. John’s Wort people are quick in all regards: to grow, mature,

go out into the world; make observations and respond to situations; think,

sense, feel. Their nervous energy outstrips their muscular skill so that they

have a tendency to clumsiness. Dorothy is a bit more specific: the white

fibers are especially visible toward the top of the iris, which would be

associated with the brain, intellectual faculties, and the five senses. These

people have very acute senses. They can be acutely sensitive to sound and

touch, which can irritate them. But they also can enjoy sensory input—

beautiful views, music, and so forth—more than other people. This type of

constitution favors hyperactivity in children. The St. John’s Wort people are sensitive to pain, not because they are

crybabies (like Chamomile), but because they have so many nerve endings. They especially fear the needle of the doctor and the sharp instruments of

the dentist. Do not make fun of them, comments Dorothy. They really are

more sensitive to pain and they retain a body memory of needles and such

that makes their next appointment terrible for them to apprehend. The St. John’s Wort person is often faster than the teacher (or the

herbalist) and impatient with slow speech and progress. They choose their

friends not because they are good or bad, but because they are stimulating. They will always be busy on the phone, computer, or with a book. Dorothy wrote that they are quick to resolve personal and interpersonal

problems, but on this point, Kim had a lot more to add. He found that the

supersensitive Hypericum person, when profoundly injured, could not

recover. It is like a part of their soul was severed from them. This pattern is

pointed out by Eliot Cowan in Plant Spirit Medicine (2014, 150–51): the

plant itself told him it would heal when a part of the soul was separated. Kim develops this theme in depth, using many stories, case histories,

experiences, and well ...

opinion. Depression

For a while, St. John’s Wort was a fad herb for minor depression, until Big

Pharma put their sights on it and tried to implicate it in high blood pressure

and other problems that are caused by the SSRI drugs (but not by

Hypericum).

It was assumed that it was a selective serotonin reuptake

inhibitor (SSRI) because this was the ridiculous, unproven model (not even

a theory) used to account for depression in the late 1990s and early twenty-

first century. Today we know that the mechanisms associated with

depression are far more complex, involving the immune system,

thermoregulation, and many other factors (see Maletic and Raison, The New

Mind-Body Science of Depression [2017]).

What is worse than depression?

Self-harming. St. John’s Wort is a

remedy for “self-harming,” according to an Australian stockman who

attended one of my classes in Canberra. The Russian herbalist Zevin says

that too much Hypericum in the pasture (a worldwide problem) causes

animals to bite their sensitive parts. Perhaps St. John’s Wort would be a

remedy for self-harming, or for those that seem to want to remain in a

psychological funk. Sexuality

The symptom of “injury to areas rich in nerves” includes the genitals, both

physically and psychologically. Kim identified St. John’s Wort with the

Grail story. This revolves around the Fisher King, who is wounded in the

genitals, suffering unremitting pain. His kingdom withers and all suffer. The

knight Parzival wanders into his dominion and is welcomed into the Grail

Castle, where he sees a complicated ceremony involving the inhabitants. A

mysterious vessel is carried in, borne by the Grail maidens. He wonders

what is wrong with his uncle, the Fisher King, but holds back his tongue. In

the morning, Parzival awakens and the castle is gone; he and his horse are

simply in a clearing in the forest. Over a long period he learns, to his great

shame, that he did not ask the “right question,” losing the opportunity to

heal the Fisher King and become the new king. He can win any martial

endeavor but he is without happiness. Finally, a hermit in the forest explains

that he did not show his host empathy in asking the right question. After more adventures Parzival again finds the Grail castle, again is seated next to

the Fisher King, and finally asks the question, “Uncle, what ails thee?” The

king and the land and Parzival are all healed. Parzival had to become more

sensitive. Following the tradition of the Fisher King, Kim called the St. John’s

Wort injury the “genital wound.” It is so deep that it affects the person’s

sexuality. As a result, there is “extreme loneliness, no fulfillment in love, no

relationship is meaningful.” St. John’s Wort is suited to this injury. It “goes

deeper than any psychologist. Suicide, insanity, schizophrenia.” It is for

“wounds, not just physical; also those which only time will heal; like being

jilted, etc.” He likens it to tetanus, “a wound to the psyche; like an

‘anaerobic environment’ deep in the mind. Wounded conscience, wounded

spirit, wounded honor, wounded sexuality.” One Australian herbalist

explained it this way: “the picture of what you want to be has been

destroyed.”

But one must be very careful. “A lot of abuse-sufferers do well on St. John’s Wort, but be very gentle,” noted Kim. “If it aggravates it can be very

threatening. Where their trust is wounded and too much wounding is

brought to the surface too quickly, a person can be driven to madness and

put on antipsychotic medicine for life.” Through the cytochrome P450

pathway in the liver, hypericin will break down hormones more quickly. Therefore, St. John’s Wort is not recommended for people who are taking

hormone therapy—from transgender people to those on birth-control pills. Horse Medicine

We have seen several reasons why St. John’s Wort is associated with horses,

warhorses, and warriors. The great sensitivity of the St. John’s Wort person

reminds us of the horse. “Some herbs get people to focus on animals,” observed Kim. “With St. John’s Wort it is the horse. The urge may be uncontrollable: boys to

mustangs, girls to stallions.” Upon recovery from the use of St. John’s Wort,

people may “dream of horses” or of “letting go of the reins.” (Giving the

animal self more free rein, I would guess.) Dolphins can also occur in St. John’s Wort dreams and visions, notes Kim. He had a case of chronic lower

back pain in a woman. “Acupuncture caused the back to go into spasm.”

There was an abusive father in the background. She “got an image of a

horse when she was being needled—she was terrified of horses. With increased needling and visions of horses, she got brave enough to get nose

to nose with a horse.”

Faery Medicine

Travel in the otherworld is often associated with horses or the winged

horse. The “faery steed” is a horse that takes a person on a ride through the

supernatural faery world. Preparation

Preparations have already been described. As to dosage, Kim recommends:

the more severe the physical wound, the more herb is needed, but the more

severe the psychological wound, the smaller the dose, so that the person

doesn’t get traumatized by the sudden eruption of previous unknown or

hidden contents. Formulations

Here is a formula for oversensitivity: St. John’s Wort, Skullcap, and

Jewelweed or Yarrow. For nightmares, combine with Thyme, and for

“processing experience,” with Reishi, the “metabolizer of experience”

(Matthew Becker).

Specific Indications

Moderate depression; postpartum depression (Dudley); nervous breakdown;

seasonal affective disorder; depression in the winter (cf. Calendula); fear of

the dark (cf. Calendula); nightmares in children; sleeplessness; lurching

awake, 2:00–4:00 a. m. (John Redden)—this symptom is often characteristic

of low blood sugar; meningitis (Hall, Dudley); “injuries to areas rich in

nerves” (homeopathic indication, excellent for herbal use as well); CFS

(Dudley); sharp, shooting pains along a nerve; parts detached—helps

regrowth; tetanus (Kent and other homeopaths); spasms; pain relief—acute

(repeat frequently), chronic (larger, long-term doses); “stomach ailments,”

especially in men (Clymer); toxicity due to low CP450-function in liver and

cells; enuresis; hormonal imbalances due to liver action; fractures; plantar

fasciitis (Dudley); blood poisoning; streak running up the arm (cured,

Wood); abscess (external application); herpes (external); basal cell

carcinoma (Dudley).

Centaury

(Centaurium erythraea)

This is a member of the Gentian clan with properties that are similar but

milder than Gentian. It is native to Europe and still so widely picked that

there are limitations to keep the population from decimation in Germany. There is a legend that goes with Centaury. Prometheus stole fire from

the Gods. In punishment he was bound to a rock and given over to an eagle

that would eat a part of his liver every day. It had been prophesied that

Prometheus could never be freed from his torture until an immortal died. Chiron had been wounded in the foot and suffered from excruciating pain

so he volunteered to die for Prometheus. However, before he passed on,

Chiron taught mankind several herbs, including this one, which Hippocrates

called Kentareion in his honor. Another ancient name for this plant was given to it by the Romans:

because of its intense bitterness, the yellow color of its root, and its use as a

remedy for the liver and gallbladder, it was called fel terrae (“bile of the

earth”).

It was sometimes called “Felwort” in English. This may be related

to the Roman name or to another common English name, Feverwort. There

is some confusion regarding the botanical name. Centaurium or Centaury

must be differentiated from Centaurea, a genus in the unrelated Asteraceae

assigned to the Knapweeds. There is no medicinal overlap. The Latin name

was interpreted in the Middle Ages to mean “hundred” (cent) “gold (piece)”

(aurum), giving rise to the name “Hundred Guilder Herb” and—through

inflation—“Thousand Guilder Herb.”

The stamens of the flower of our Centaury are five in number. This is

the symbol, again and again, of the magical hand, both interfering and

protecting. It is an insignia of Wolf Medicine, as we have seen—predators

of the horse. The five-finger hand is associated with change in the secret

alphabet of Nature. Wolf Medicine is associated with shapeshifting and

Chiron is the shapeshifter. “The anthers have a curious way of twisting themselves round after they

have shed their pollen,” comments Maud Grieve (1994, 182).

Twisting

usually indicates something that entangles or traps, like a twisting serpent. The Saxon herbalists used it for snakebite. However, twisting also indicated

to some people an ascent, like Jacob’s Ladder. Centaury is sometimes called

“Christ’s Ladder.”

It is also tempting to see the twisting aspect of Centaury as

representative of the caduceus in the hand of the medicus—the snake

twisting up the green staff. Chiron taught Asclepius, whose symbol is the

caduceus. Centaury had an almost supernatural reputation in Europe as a healing

plant. The Lesser Book of Albertus Magnus (which was not, as a matter of

fact, written by Albert) counts Centaury as one of the most important of the

magical herbs of the ancients. In modern European herbalism, Centaury is

used as an aromatic bitter tonic or carminative to improve appetite and

digestion. The dried herb is used, so the root need not be extirpated. The dried herb is given in infusion or powder, or made into an

extract. It is used extensively in dyspepsia, for languid digestion

with heartburn after food, in an infusion of 1 oz. of the dried herb to

1 pint of water. When run down and suffering from want of appetite,

a wineglassful of this infusion Centaury Tea—taken three or four

times daily, half an hour before meals, is found of great benefit. The

same infusion may also be taken for muscular rheumatism. (Grieve

1994, 183)

Centaury has been naturalized in North America, where it does not

enjoy any such popularity. There are about forty different members of the

genus. The specific one in medicine is the red one—flower pink to red—but

others have been used. It is an intense bitter with properties reminiscent of

Gentian. Both are used as bitters for the digestion. Many species of

Gentianaceae are used in its place. Nicholas Culpeper proclaimed of all the Centauries (1850, 45): “They

are under the dominion of the Sun”; this is because “their flowers open and

shut as the Sun, either shews or hides his face.”

Weak Egoic Will

Dr. Bach introduced Centaury as one of his thirty-eight flower essences. It

is for people who suffer lack of self-confidence so that they are afraid to

make decisions, flee from decisions, and let other people walk all over

them. This is similar to its cousin, Gentian, which is good for people who

don’t trust their own instincts, or people who bully others so that they don’t

trust themselves—we will get to this herb later. Two friends were visiting my house and one of them commented how

she couldn’t stop her cat from picking at her fur. The other was a flower-

essence practitioner. She said: “Your cat needs Vervain, and you need

Centaury so it won’t walk all over you.”

In this regard Centaury is the opposite and complement of Celandine. It

is for a weak egoic will while the latter is for a strong ego—and both are for

migraines going up the gallbladder channel. They can often be alternated,

since the egoic will can switch from one extreme to the other. Migraine, Gallbladder Meridian

Herbalist and acupuncturist Francis Bonaldo of Montreal says Centaury is

for migraines coming up the gallbladder meridian into eyes, with blindness,

sometimes set off by family arguments. Pain in back of the neck, below the

cranium, on the right side, emanating up across the temporal regions, into

the eye, sometimes down to the right scapula. The gallbladder meridian

runs from the gallbladder back to under the scapula, up over the scapula to

the bottom of the cranium and across the temporal bones, to the eye and

down to the cheekbone. These symptoms are also found under Celandine

but that remedy has the strong will. There may also be deteriorating eyesight. Aromatic Bitter for the Digestion

Centaury has been most famously used for bloating, dyspepsia, flatulence,

and lack of appetite. Francis has confirmed these indications. As a bitter it

enhances gastric secretion, stimulates the appetite, and improves the

digestion. It is a long-term, slow-acting tonic to the GI tract. When the

stomach is deficient, the signal to the gall ducts to open and dump bile and

digestive enzymes is weak. So this is also a bitter for the liver. Returning to

digestion, Centaury is an antiparasitic. Herbalist David Winston points out

that the aromatic bitters are the group of herbs from which all the great

vermifuges originate—Wormwood, Wormseed, Black Walnut hull, and so

forth. Liver and Gallbladder

Receiving its signal from the stomach, Centaury acts on the gallbladder to

increase digestive juices. It has been used to treat jaundice, which would

indicate blockage of the bile at some point between the liver and the duodenum. Returning to the psychological symptoms, Centaury is

beneficial when a person has a hard time making decisions. The gallbladder,

as the seat of the egoic will, is associated with decision making. The old

doctors thought that it acted on the liver and kidneys to “cleanse the blood”

but exact symptoms are lacking. “Feverwort”

This is one of the old names for Centaury. It is considered to be anti-

inflammatory and even sedative—said to “cool the blood.” Since it is for

wounds and snakebites, that suggests an antiseptic application. Bitters were

often also used for the chills and fever of malaria. Bitter Tonic

Richard Hool notes that an “excellent tonic for delicate and elderly people”

is an infusion of Centaury and Raspberry Leaf in equal portions: take a

“wineglassful” three times a day; “Centaury acts particularly upon the heart

as a general strengthener” (1918, 11).

Contraindications

At least one online source reported that this herb should not be used when

there is esophageal reflux or stomach ulcers. This is the kind of information

we get from “armchair herbalists” who have no practical experience. This is

a specific remedy when the reflux is due to a sluggish digestion which

needs stimulation. Stomach ulcers are due to sluggish digestion as well. If

anyone is afraid of the herb they should just use the Bach flower essence or

drop doses of the tincture for these kind of symptoms. Horse Chestnut

(Aesculus hippocastanum)

This is a majestic tree that came out of Turkey several hundred years ago

but is now widely naturalized in Europe and to a lesser extent in North

America. Because I have profiled this herb elsewhere in The Earthwise

Herbal (2008, I:50–53), I will not cover it extensively here, except in regard

to its relationship to Horse Medicine

It has a heavy, sleep-inducing quality. I remember one summer when I

picked the flowers for the tincture and woke up twelve hours later. The

sleep was so deep I couldn’t figure out where I was, who I was, or how old

I was, until I was fully awake. It truly felt like I had been out in the cosmos

somewhere. (My assemblage point got shifted far away).

At one time it was

thought to be a narcotic, but this label was rejected. Yagho Tahnaga explained to me why this is called “Horse Chestnut.”

She grew up near the racetracks in Sarasota in a small Native community

and some of her first employment was on a horse farm. “They put me to

work collecting the nuts from the Horse Chestnut trees. They would make it

into a liniment and put on the muscles of horses—you know, like how the

muscles in a horse shiver?”

Dr. Bach called this “White Chestnut” and used it for what we would

today call “obsessive compulsive disorder” (OCD).

It is a specific and I

have used it many times with success in this dreadful affliction. It is also

specific in the physical condition that reflects this mentality: tension in the

blood vessels causing backup, varicosities, hemorrhoids, phlebitis, and

glaucoma. Horse Chestnut is my remedy for the quick pulse. My friend Francis

Bonaldo used Passionflower (Passiflora incarnata) for the quick pulse. That’s another remedy for obsessive thinking. The quick pulse is not rapid

in beats per minute; it is rapid in the rise from the bottom of the beat to the

top. That’s a Greek pulse not found in Chinese medicine. This is another plant with five leaves and a strong association with the

gallbladder, so it probably has magical properties and should be associated

with Wolf and Dragon Medicine. WARRIOR MEDICINE

The Warrior is often associated with the Horse. The mounted rider is a

picture of a harmonious relationship between the human self and the animal

self, but it is also associated with warfare. In feudal societies, the rider on

the horse was the landowner or overlord. The peasants weren’t mounted and

when the landowner had to raise an army, he went mounted, followed by

foot soldiers selected from his tenants and serfs. Whatever we may think of

the fairness of this system, it was the form of government from the Roman

period down to early modern times. Within this culture the need to train leaders and warriors was very

important. In addition, however, it was recognized that the leaders needed

to live according to an effective code of ethics, if possible. We can also see

the necessity of teaching the young men to follow a code of honor to avoid

brigandage and social chaos. Within this milieu, the ideal of the knight or

mounted warrior as a paragon of virtue arose. This led to the appearance in

the twelfth century of songs and stories of chivalry told by troubadours and

storytellers. This was the milieu in which King Arthur and Parzival arose

from obscurity as semi-legendary Celtic chieftains to a prominence that is

still with us. The stories less often feature the women, except as auxiliary to the men,

but it is in these stories that we first find pictures of female psychology that

reflect actual women. The Grail cycle by Wolfram von Eshenbach, Parzival

(ca. 1200), is generally considered to be the first literary work in which

women and children were accurately portrayed as having realistic feelings. Wolfram’s account of Orgeluse, a deeply wounded woman, is an example. Figures like Arthur and Parzival were pictured as happily married, but

this changed in the later versions of the stories, which were intentionally

taken over and rewritten by monks who wanted to demote sex, marriage,

and women to an inferior status. The faithful husband Parzival now could

only glimpse the Grail from afar, while Sir Galahad, who had renounced

sex, was the only one who could actually obtain the sacred artifact. The Grail mythos appears suddenly, fully developed, with no

antecedents in the Church or Celtic legends. Sara Annon suggested that this

is because the cult had already been highly developed and maintained in

secrecy. She traces the association of the warrior, the horse, and the cup

back to the Beaker People who lived on the shores of the Atlantic in the

time period after the building of the stone monuments, before the rise of

Celtic identity and culture. These people probably traded by horse and ship

—their remains are scattered along the coasts and the big rivers, and they

were probably associated with what became the Spanish warhorse (which

we know in North America as the “Indian pony”).

This horse has an angular

structure in the hips and shoulders that makes it a stronger weight bearer,

and it is the only kind of horse that is not afraid to enter a ship. Sara suggests that the people who raised and took care of horses

comprised a kind of trade guild or shamanic school whose teachings burst

into the public eye in the late Middle Ages when the Grail mythos was merged with folk Christianity. The Spanish-born Pope Callixtus III (1455–

1458) issued a papal bull enjoining people from carrying out ceremonies in

a cave decorated with images of horses and a horse statue (Bahn 2007).

After the colonization of the New World began, Queen Isabella forbade

the exportation of Spanish warhorses to the new colonies, knowing that

they would be used against her operations. They were nonetheless

smuggled to the New World and became the “Indian pony” of the

Southwest and Great Plains. Since the killings of the wild American horses

under Trump and Biden, there are only a couple hundred left in North

America. They no longer exist in Spain; are endangered in North Africa;

and the rarest among them, the “Paint,” is extinct in the Old World. The major Warrior Medicines are Yarrow and St. John’s Wort, both of

which are for wounds. As a general class, the astringents belong here

because they toughen up the exterior boundaries of the body against loss of

fluids and in this way increase stamina. This fits Schizandra, which I also

include here. The most powerful astringent is the “mighty Oak”—as the

remedy for integrity issues it also seems to fit with the Warrior Medicines. We have already discussed St. John’s Wort. Yarrow

(Achillea millefolium)

I dedicated twenty pages to this herb in The Book of Herbal Wisdom (1997,

65–83) and I wrote about it again in The Earthwise Herbal (2008–2009,

2:51–57).

Yet, I still have more to say about it from a shamanic standpoint

and even in terms of its ordinary action. This is in part due to my own

expanding knowledge, but especially due to accounts from the late Kim

Dudley of Canberra, Canadian herbalist Christine Dennis, and Irish

herbalist Rosari Kingston. So we can call this an international herbal rock

star. This powerful wound medicine was another of the herbs taught by the

centaur Chiron to Achilles, Hercules, and Jason. The name Chiron means

“hand” (chiro), and he was considered to be the master of all arts and crafts. He had been taught by his adoptive father, Apollo, and his sister, Artemis,

the arts of healing and herbalism, music, and many other skills. The Latin name Achillea comes from Achilles, in testimony to his use of

it to staunch bleeding, as reported by Homer (ca. 700 BCE).

According to

the Iliad, Achilles bemoans the fact that he does not have his herb with him

when he is wounded and dying. There are several accounts of the successful

use of Yarrow in the Iliad, including a case where Achilles treats Telephus

for a severe spear injury with Yarrow and the rust gathered from the spear. Achillea would long be known in European folk medicine as the remedy for

injuries with iron. However, it was also known in Native America for

hemorrhage before the appearance of iron—so, in reality, that is not an

essential characteristic of the Yarrow wound. Anyway, the rust off an army

spear might be contaminated with tetanus, which is endemic (and non-fatal)

in horses. The name millefolium means “Thousand Leaf,” referring to the leaves

that look, as Mattioli says, like “the wispy feathers of young birds” (1590,

401).

My friend Rosari Kingston, an Irish herbalist, says that the most

common Gaelic name for Yarrow is Athair thalún (“Father of the Earth”).

She asked linguists and botanists what that meant and none of them had an

answer. However, she observed that the tangle of featherlike leaves at the

bottom of the plant collect dust and after a few years in gravelly soil, the

plant will enrich the ground. This could account for the fact that Yarrow is

said to have an enriching effect on plants growing nearby. The same

property is attributed to its cousin Chamomile, which also has lacy,

featherlike leaves. Father of the Earth, Master of the Blood

Rosari speculated that Yarrow, which seems to mineralize the soil, may

have a mineralizing effect that makes a malnourished person stronger. Another Irish name is Lus na fola, meaning “Herb of the Blood.” This is

almost identical to what I call it, “Master of the Blood.” Not only does it

staunch heavy bleeding, open the capillaries to increase peripheral

circulation and release fever, but it may also improve hemogenesis in the

bone marrow. The English name Yarrow is related to the word “gear,” which can refer

to arms, armor, clothing, and attire. Other names are Carpenter’s Herb or

Carpenter’s Friend, Herbe du Charpentier, Soldier’s Woundwort, Knyghten Milfoil, Sanguinary, Bloodwort, and Nosebleed—the latter from its

propensity to cause nosebleed (a “like treats like” affair).

Achillea millefolium is native to Europe and Asia. It is naturalized in the

Americas, New Zealand, and the Snowy Mountains of Australia, and the

southernmost countries of Africa. In addition, there is a native American

strain, A. millefolium var. lanulosa, which arrived in North America before

1492.

It had an extensive popularity in Native American medicine, and was

used for wounds just like in the European tradition. A Lakota name

translates as “Medicine of the Wounded.” An Ojibwa name is perhaps the

most cute: “Squirrel Tail.”

Cuts to the Bone, and Cuts to the Third Level of the Blood

Back in the days of my herbal youth, at Present Moment Herbs in

Minneapolis, there was a young employee named Victor. I’ve told this story

before, but not the latest twist. Vic was hired as a worker, not an herbalist,

but he still learned by osmosis and the occasional lesson. One day he came

in and announced in a puzzled voice: “I had a dream last night about

Yarrow. It said it’s for cuts to the bone and cuts to the third level of the

blood.” We asked, “What does that mean?” He replied, “I dunno.” A few

weeks passed; Victor cut his finger deeply. Goldenseal wouldn’t stop the

bleeding, but Yarrow did. We puzzled for a long time but an herbal friend from Arizona, Halsey

Brandt, said immediately when I told him the story: “Oh, I know what that

means. The first level of the blood is the capillary bed, the second is the

arterioles, and the third is the arteries.” Yes, that is exactly what it means. Yarrow is for the deep arterial cuts that bleed freely. But thirty years later

Victor had a second insight: “Oh, it’s for cuts to the bone—that means the

bone marrow.” He pointed out that Maria Treben wrote in Health through

God’s Pharmacy (1984, 50): “Yarrow acts directly and best on the bone

marrow and thus stimulates blood renewal.” It is therefore indicated for

“disorders of the bone marrow, even caries.” Bone marrow produces white,

red, and platelet blood cells; therefore Yarrow would stimulate immunity,

red blood, and staunching of bleeding. The sharper the cut, the better the indication for Yarrow. One of my

herbal friends told me a story about her son, who is a budding herbalist. She

had a client who had a cut that had spontaneously appeared between the

thumb and the pointer finger. She thought it was fungus, but she called in her ten-year-old son, who looked at the condition carefully. He said: “It

looks like a cut, so Yarrow is indicated. One drop a day on the cut.” (Here

was another mini-doser, like myself).

“It will get better for a few days, then

it will get worse and bleed; then get better again and heal.” And that’s what

happened!

Circulation

All of us who have used Yarrow realize that it affects the circulation

tremendously, opening and closing the peripheral circulation as needed, also

acting on the arteries and veins. It acts on all the highly vascularized tissue

—kidneys, liver, bone marrow, heart, and brain. How can we say this?

Herbalism is an empirical art—that is to say, it is learned from experience. This is its chief difference from medicine, which is based on research and

statistics—the individual person, the case history, is relatively unimportant;

the experience of the practitioner and the patient is intentionally ignored in

favor of test results. One suggestion is that Yarrow is particularly suited to enhancement of

the circulation below the waist, easing the strain on the heart by bringing it

up from below, when there is poor venous return. So it is a remedy for “low

blood,” when the blood stays down in the lower extremities—in older

people, the indication is a blue dark or black band around the ankles with

memory and cognitive loss. I use Rosemary for this, but Yarrow is another

potential remedy. It is also indicated for varicose veins when the

complexion is red (from capillary congestion) with blue veins. Low blood is

also a name for blood deficiency, of which there are many kinds. Kim

Dudley considered Yarrow specifically suited to the initial weakness of

vitamin B12 deficiency. I helped a woman, aged sixty-three, who was taking Hawthorn for slow

weakening of her heart and circulation. The condition was slowly

deteriorating, so I told her to add Yarrow, 1 part for 3 parts Hawthorn. This

immediately reversed the deterioration and she eventually discontinued the

remedies. “A patient came to me with cold hands and feet,” wrote Kim. “I treated

her successfully with Yarrow. It seemed to me she had contracted herself

and pulled the blood flow from her extremities into her center.”

Having said all this about low blood, we also have to consider Yarrow in

cases of high blood, or when the blood gets stuck in the head or the surface. Fire rises, so this is associated with heat. There may be headache—Maria

Treben spoke highly of it for migraine. The homeopathic provings brought

out an affinity for people of a florid complexion (meaning: lots of blood in

the head and surface).

When the skin is hot and dry, Yarrow is indicated. Likewise when the sides of the tongue are red and the center blue,

indicating stagnation in the center blocking circulation; when the tongue is

red on the sides and pale in the center, indicating heat in the surface and

cold and blood vacuity in the interior; or even when the center is red and the

sides are white. Yarrow seems to always have this imbalance between the

center and the periphery. When the perimeter is weak, there is lack of

protection of the organism. Aneurysm

I’ve already discussed aneurysms in just about all my writings on Yarrow,

but it turns out that also entertained a high regard for it in this imbalance. He collected twenty-five pages of research papers suggesting a possible

association between copper, faulty production or elastin, vascular weakness,

and aneurysm formation. This would explain both the Venus rulership in

traditional astrology and the affinity of Yarrow for strengthening arteries

and veins. The capillary bed doesn’t have elastin fibers to any great extent,

but its health is dependent on the bigger vascular structures. Kim inserted a story. In 1957, the Australian government released a

pelletized “wonder food” for turkeys. Guaranteed to grow them bigger,

fatter, faster, and deader than a doornail. Over 50% of the nation’s turkey

crop died that year. When they did autopsies, they found that almost all of

them had died of ruptured aortic aneurysm. Further analysis showed that the

wonder food lacked copper; when they added this, the mortality rate

dropped to zero. Statistics show that four to six of every 100 Americans

autopsied have died of a ruptured aneurysm and an additional 40% have

aneurysms that have not yet ruptured. Called “the silent killer,” cerebral

aneurysms cause approximately 500,000 deaths a year worldwide. Women

and the elderly are affected disproportionately. Risk factors include unequal

distribution of vasculature in the brain (Inagawa 2022; Hall et al. 2023).

My friend Paula Jensen, an herbalist in Santa Fe and Tulsa, had an

aneurysm suddenly appear and expand on her arm while she was teaching a

class. Everybody, including herself, was pretty concerned. She put Yarrow

on it and it disappeared by the end of the class. When she told me, I remarked that it would be a good idea to take Yarrow for a month or two, in

case there were internal hidden arteries that lacked tone. She did and she

found that the spider veins on her legs disappeared. It seems likely that Yarrow, Schizandra, and Oak—all excellent

astringents—act on the elastin tissues. Indeed, this may be true of all

astringents, and they might possibly all pass as warrior remedies since they

would be associated with disciplining, toning, and strengthening the tissue. Kim did a lot of research on elastin. It is found in connective tissue that

stretches or is flexible, therefore in the joints, the vertebrate disks of the

spine, all the blood vessels, bronchial tubes, and much of the skin. Emphysema can be produced in animals by lack of dietary copper. Kim

comments: “There is no current evidence that hemorrhoids are made worse

by a copper deficiency, but limited experience leads me to believe that

evidence will one day appear.” Yarrow is a good hemorrhoid remedy. He

also wondered whether “a tendency to cut oneself while shaving, will prove

to be correlated” with weak elastin. “If so, this would serve as a good early

warning.” Ah, I love how empirical herbalists think!

Liver and Vasculature

Since estrogen helps with the uptake of copper, young women have fewer

problems with aneurysms or bleeding out than men, except after childbirth,

when they have lost a lot of copper helping build the placenta and the baby. Men who die of aneurysms have been found to have as low as 26% of

normal levels of copper in the liver. Mechanically speaking, the liver is more heavily dependent on

vasculature than any other organ. It constantly receives toxic blood from the

digestive tract via the portal vein. This has to be balanced by a massive

influx of clean blood through the hepatic artery and of course there are still

veins to drain processed blood out of the liver. But the remarkable thing is

that the structure of the liver is entirely dependent on the ramification of the

portal vein into smaller and smaller veins, which finally are the only thing

holding the liver together. Yarrow poultices are the standard anti-

inflammatory application for hepatitis of all types in anthroposophical

medicine. Wounded Warrior, Wounded Healer Nothing stops a severe hemorrhage like Yarrow. It is also for deep

emotional traumas—cuts to the bone. Herbalist Barbara Parke called it the

“wounded warrior, wounded healer remedy.” It is for the warriors “who

jump in, put out the fires, but get cut to the bone,” she says, but also for

healers and gentle souls that are more sensitive. Fever

Many of us use warm Yarrow tea (or less often, tincture) as a fever remedy,

either by itself or in combination with Elder and Peppermint. This formula

came from Juliette da Bairacli-Levy; “from the gypsies,” she explained. However, the herb by itself is quite competent. I compare it to homeopathic

Aconite as a powerful antifebrile in acute conditions, either from cold and

wind or damp, or viral infections. It is good for a sore throat. Kim recalled a

teaching from his great mentor, Dorothy Hall. Anytime she got out of bed in

the morning feeling feverish or sore and chilly, she drank a cup of warm

Yarrow tea. The warmth helps bring the blood to the surface and decongest

the interior. Protection Medicine

Yarrow flower essence was also introduced by the Flower Essence Society

as a remedy for psychic protection. Many people could testify to its value

here, but I want to give the evidence of a friend who did not know anything

about these traditions, but discovered the protective influence of Yarrow on

her own. Kathy was greatly helped by realizing that she was a natural empath. Fate offered her a buyout of her city condominium at a good price and she

was able to retire to an island in the San Juans:

I need to live on an island because it has such precise

boundaries. There are only 2,000 people here year-round, so

the psychic atmosphere is more safe for me. When I leave the

island on the ferry, I can feel when the submerged part of the

island fades away and I am again vulnerable. I also

discovered that Yarrow tea would strengthen and protect me;

so I drink that often. As I mentioned in The Book of Herbal Wisdom (1997, 82), Yarrow has a

strange ability to make one more aware of sharp edges, tools, and knives,

and therefore to avoid wounds. One of my students worked as a bartender

in a tavern favored by tradespeople who worked a lot with tools. She found

that it protected people when placed in the workshop, but had to be renewed

about twice a year with fresh plant material. Yarrow makes a person more alert, or again, it turns down excessive

vigilance when a person is feverish and the brain is overstimulated by heat. It is cooling and restful in such cases. In other situations, it improves blood

flow to the surface and therefore animal sensation. It improves, coordinates,

and normalizes blood flow into and out of the capillary bed, acting partly

through the veins and the arterioles. Therefore, it stops bleeding from deep

cuts—to the arteries. By bringing blood and heat to the surface and relaxing

the pores of the skin, it is an excellent remedy in fever, chills and fever and

heat conditions. Protection of the Teeth and Gums

Victor had been trained by Bob Gallagher, the owner of the herb store

where we worked, more than I had, because I was more of an overconfident

young buck who thought I knew a lot. Bob told Victor: “The first line of

protection is the teeth.” “I was young then,” said Victor, “so what did I

know about teeth problems?

But when I got older, I realized that you did

have to protect your teeth.” He points out: “When you chew Yarrow, it

causes the gums to get numb and tingle, so it is increasing the nerve and

blood flow to the gums. Great protection.” If the gums are healthy, the teeth

will be more likely to be healthy because there will be better blood

circulation. And we remember that the “Father of the Earth” may “catch the

dust” and have a mineralizing effect. Maria Treben also cited Yarrow as a

tooth and gum remedy. Shortly, we will have a discussion of Oak bark and

the teeth and gums, another medicine I have placed under Warrior

Medicine. Chamomile is the great remedy for the pain of teething in children, but

it is possible that Yarrow should also be considered here. Kim Dudley

observed: “Cutting one’s teeth in a new situation may affect more than the

gums.”

The Spiritual Warrior “To be immersed in Yarrow is to become a soldier of either carnal or

spiritual fortune,” wrote Kim. “Military battle and the military battlefield

are no different from the internal battle on the battlefield that is found

within each of us as we come face to face with our own inner enemies.”

What constitutes spiritual warfare?

Certainly, it is a matter of standing

up for what is right in the world and against dishonesty, greed, and tyranny. But what Kim—and I—would particularly think of is the great internal war

we fight to become better people; closer to the spirit. Quakers call this the

“Lamb’s War.” We don’t always know what we are looking for or how to

grow into the spirit, but there is one activity that occupies the time and

energies of the spiritual warrior. “Every esoteric healing tradition

recognizes the need to recapitulate one’s lifetime of experience,” writes

Kim. “To scrutinize every past event to ensure that nothing has been left

unresolved. One shouldn’t dwell in the past if nothing is being resolved. But

every memory left unexamined may harbor a suppressed emotion, a

purposefully forgotten desire, which has to be examined if we are to grow.”

This is very hard work. It takes a realistic perspective on life, ruthless

self-examination, and discipline. In short, inner processing is one of the

greatest endeavors of the spiritual warrior. “Some will procrastinate, to

defend themselves against inner change,” wrote Kim, while “others will

become workaholics.” Even the attempt to recapitulate builds spiritual

character. “Only in the primacy of battle are some of the noblest qualities of

the human spirit occasionally seen—valor, self-sacrifice, and compassion.”

Kim saw Yarrow as the ideal remedy here, both for laziness and the

exhaustion of hard work. It is also the remedy for those who withdrew from

the battle, did not take up the challenge, even missed their calling:

Yarrow is the remedy of the public servant who feels the wasting of

his life confronted with the inescapable demands of bureaucracy, his

life slipping away on sheets of paper in their respective “in” and

“out” trays. It is the remedy of the bank clerk and the remedy of the

professional soldier. (Dudley 2012)

There is a similar pattern under the next herb, Schizandra, which is for

those who have followed their calling until they have exhausted themselves,

as well as those who wake up in their sixties and realize that they have

wasted their lives by not following their calling. These indications are also analogous to the next remedy, Oak, which is indicated when the “mighty

Oak is broken down.” It helps us choose the battles we can win, and not

exhaust or hurt ourselves in those that are impossible to win. The Double Injury

The opposite of the recapitulation is reliving the pain over and over. According to Kim, the name for this in Taoism is the “double injury.” Kim

repeated the following story from Arthur Waley, Three Ways of Thought in

Ancient China (1939, 73):

When Prince Mon of Wei was living as a hermit in Chung-shan, he

said to the Taoist, Chan Tzu: “My body is here amid the lakes and

steams; but my heart is in the palace of Wei. What am I to do?”

“Care more for what you have in yourself,” said Chan Tzu, “and less

for what you can get from others.” “I know I ought to,” said the

Prince, “but I cannot get the better of my feelings.” “If you cannot

get the better of your feelings,” replied Chan Tzu, “then give play to

them. Nothing is worse for the soul than struggling not to give play

to feeling that it cannot control. This is called the Double Injury, and

of those that sustain it, none live out their natural span.”

Beatrice describes the same problem in Dante’s Inferno (2001, 61):

The double grief of a lost bliss

is to recall its happy hour in pain. Your Guide and Teacher knows the truth of this. Kim taught that the remedy for the double injury was Yarrow. The

Yarrow person has been cut to the bone. The blood must flow freely and

clean the wound. But it also needs to stop. Yarrow doesn’t force the wound

closed; it cleans it out, reabsorbs coagulated internal blood into the

lymphatics, the inner cleansing system; repairs the nerves as best as

possible; and allows the regulatory factors released by the wound to

naturally bring the lips together. Kim also saw the double injury as relevant in acute disease. “One

example of the double injury is that of rain and wind together,” he commented. Cold and damp would also be another double trauma. “Exposure quickly chills the body and threatens to lower the core

temperature. The mind becomes numb, the body hypotensive.” We see the

action on the periphery and the core. Exhaustion

Kim emphasized the problem of fatigue with Yarrow. He especially

highlighted cases where he or his mentor Dorothy felt drained by the person

they were working with—a problem of the empath. Or the problem may

arise from stress:

In the subclinical setting the patient complains of feeling run-down

after a prolonged period of stress. They may have been involved in

nursing a partner or relative through a terminal illness. They may

have been under constant threat of losing their job, or been involved

in a long, drawn-out legal case. Invariably, they will say they feel

drained. They may even feel a particular person has drained their

energy. In some cases, the practitioner is drained by the client:

I frequently find, after treating or interacting with schizophrenics,

that I am left with a feeling of having been depleted or drained. On

two such occasions I recall falling prostrate on the clinic floor and

needing several minutes to recover. (Dudley 2012)

In other situations, the exhaustion is due to laziness. Kim wrote:

The great Indian saint Shankacharya once said that the greatest

obstacle to spirituality, or self-knowledge, is laziness. Sloth is one of

the seven deadly sins. We all often have such good intentions. We

will study harder, we will be more disciplined in our attendance; we

will start eating the right food; we will stop eating too much; we

won’t let another idle thought cross our mind; we won’t gossip any

more; we will practice everyday. [But] procrastination becomes a

way of life. We just don’t feel up to making the effort. Each morning

we stay in bed a little longer. It’s so cold in winter. We make do. The

meals become simpler. We lose the interest to make sure we are

always looking our best. He can wait a little while for his money. (Dudley 2012; edited)

Yarrow stops our laziness and brings all that is suppressed to light. It

unearths all that has been buried in the catacombs of the past. By removing

our laziness it defines our aspirations, the aims we have for our highest

good. Yarrow grants us the ability to break away from our old patterns and

habits and start each day anew. Connective Tissue

If Yarrow has such a powerful effect on the elastin in blood vessels—which

many of us have observed in practice—then it would certainly have a

significant influence on the connective tissue (cartilage, joints, tendons,

skin).

It has, in fact, been traditionally used for arthritis and “rheumatism”

in folk medicine—especially when worse from damp, adds Rosari

Kingston. She recommends the dried Yarrow tops, used as a tea. A British herbalist, Ali English (2019), thinks of it as detoxifying

around the joints. The cartilage does not have its own capillary bed; the

blood drops off the nutrients and picks up the toxins at the edge of the

cartilage. That’s why the cartilaginous strip down the chest of a chicken is

pure white rather than pink—no blood. The cartilage gets its nutrition by

the slower movement of the interstitial fluids. But an expansion of the

capillary bed next to the cartilage is sure to help. Comfrey helps pull the

nutrients and toxins through the cartilage and maintain the tissue; the

allantoin in Comfrey helps regrowth of damaged cartilage, which is very

hard to repair. Solomon’s Seal and Teasel will strengthen and rebuild when

there has been catastrophic injury; apply over many months. When the

joints are injured, the muscles inflame and tighten up—Yarrow again, for

this. The wounded warrior. Kim cites it for rheumatism, tendonitis,

spondylosis, fractures, and exostosis (a benign overgrowth of cartilage on

the bone).

All of these plants will work better for these conditions when

they are applied locally. Female Reproductive Tract

We should not forget that those who bear children are warriors too. If

Yarrow helps blood vessels, improves circulation below the waist, provides

copper for the mother and child, and prevents aneurysms (more common in women), then Yarrow is a preeminent female herb—long assigned to Venus,

despite its warrior ways. “First and foremost, it is a herb for women,” wrote

Austrian herbalist Maria Treben (1984, 50): “I cannot recommend Yarrow

enough for women.” She cites Father Sebastian Kneipp: “Women could be

spared many troubles, if they just took Yarrow tea from time to time!”

She recommends it for young girls with irregular menses, older women

during menopause, or already past the climacteric, and I would add that it is

a remedy for both lack of menses and excess bleeding—I gave some case

histories in The Book of Herbal Wisdom. Kim adds:

Yarrow is a universal regulator of the female reproductive system. For irregular menstruation, or to calm the flushing of menopause,

Yarrow has few equals. Inflammation of the ovaries, prolapsed

uterus and fibroids all respond to Yarrow sitz baths. Spastic

conditions of the pelvis and parametrium are relaxed. (Dudley 2012)

The parametrium is the fat and connective tissue surrounding the uterus. Kim also thought Yarrow was an important remedy for candida. In his

opinion: “Thrush seems to be associated with an abnormal sensuality, either

excessive or deficient.” In such cases I would think first of the Water Lilies,

White (Nymphaea odorata) and the Yellow (Nuphar lutea).

The former is

an excellent remedy for yeast infection, and both are for excessive sexual

thoughts. And like the caboose on the train, we might as well mention men. A

healthy vascular system and toned, astringed tissues are necessary for

virility, prostate health, and reproductive fitness. It takes two warriors to raise one child, especially when the village and

the neighborhood is no longer intact. Energetics and Signatures

Yarrow is usually considered cooling and drying—it combines a strongly

cooling bitterness with mild astringency that tones the mucosa. Yet it also

opens the peripheral circulation to moisten the skin with sweat and reduce

fever. Richard Hool (1922) suggested that Yarrow should be used when the

skin is hot, dry, and constricted, with restlessness, wakefulness, and

delirium. After administration, the skin will become soft, moist, and flexible; the mind “calm, rational, and inclined to sleep.” Or the person

awakens from sleep with a healing perspiration—the fever “breaks.”

The lacy leaves unfurl in the spring; the hard stalk rises afterward, with

leaves appearing along the sides. In mid to late summer, the shieldlike

inflorescence (collection of individual flowers) appears at the top. So there

is a contrast of hard and soft—“wounded warrior, wounded healer.” The

shield so perfectly pictures protection. The leaf has been cut back through

evolution until there is nothing but the vessels, a perfect picture of the

capillary bed. Yarrow has traditionally been assigned to Venus, the ruler of

the veins, but it is so Martial in quality that it is easy to doubt this

designation. It seems necessary to attribute Yarrow to both Venus and Mars,

as it normalizes between sensitivity and violence. The Scotch ballad “The

Downy Dens of Yarrow” contrasts love and murder. I could never understand the Venusian rulership until I awoke one night

and a little voice said in my ear: “You have blood in your kidneys.” And

sure enough: I soon knew how blood mixed with urine looks and feels. I

sipped a cup with a dropper full of Yarrow tincture in it and felt an

incredible soothing across my kidneys. Oh, no wonder, I thought: It is ruled

by Venus. I presume I passed a stone. I had one more release of blood in the

urine in the day; never again. Kim associated Yarrow with the “female psyche” and noted that it

contained a lot of copper, the metal associated with Venus:

Yarrow is a major regulator of the copper balance in the body. It

effectively administers to the soldier’s wounds because it heals the

soldier’s female psyche, which he so pompously ignores while he

plays at war. With its usage he tends to yield rather than become the

aggressor. Yarrow particularly resonates with copper, especially

copper sulphate, the great healing crystal of the Middle Ages. (Dudley 2012)

Kim quotes Steiner, who likened Yarrow to a sympathetic person—

Venus is the planet of sympathy and comfort:

Like sympathetic people in human society, who have a favorable

influence by their mere presence and not by anything they say, so

Milfoil in a district where it is plentiful, works beneficially by its

mere presence. (Dudley 2012)

The English herbalist William Coles, in Adam in Eden, noted that the

feathery leaves looked like hair, “if your fancy will have it” (1657, 556).

He

says it will stop shedding if the head is bathed with a decoction. Shamanic Initiation

An herbalist who had an incredibly deep shamanic experience with Yarrow

is Christine Dennis, of Port Burwell, Ontario. She was teaching a plant-

attunement and plant-journeying class with Yarrow when she got tired,

withdrew from the circle, and lay down. As we have seen, tiredness is a

characteristic associated with Yarrow. All of a sudden, a large blue being

appeared before her. It asked Christine to identify the color. She replied:

“Azulene.” This is an azure-blue volatile oil found in Chamomile and

Yarrow. This turned out to be a “cross-the-threshold” question and what

transpired over the next several years was so taxing for Christine that she

regretted having answered it. The immediate impact was so intense that Christine saw stars,

diamondlike sparkles, as if in her aura, and understood the “astral body” in

a new and intense way. It was like an apocalypse happening within her—

earthquakes, tsunamis, battles: “It was more intense than ayahuasca.” It was

transpersonal; moved her beyond herself, opened her up to what sounded to

me like the “wounded warrior, wounded healer” experience. “Then it told

me I passed the initiation and gave me a shield of protection, which was

very practical on the metaphysical level. It stiffened and thickened my astral

body.”

The award of the protective shield was followed, for Christine, by a

year of aggressive encounters. Each time she was protected. She also

experienced her “Achilles tendon” during this period. She dreamed that she

“entered a battle that wasn’t mine.” When she was thinking about this at the

kitchen sink, all of a sudden her back went out. “It was my Achilles

tendon.”

“I do feel Yarrow with me all the time. I’ll call on it if I am not

comfortable.” But she warned us, our little group of herbalists from North

America, England, and Ireland: “If you are ever asked a question testing

your skill, don’t answer it.” Christine didn’t feel the suffering, scars, threats, and aggressions made up for the gift she received. But that is so often the

way it is on the shamanic road, on the spiritual path: with every gift, more is

asked. Preparation, Dosage, and Contraindications

Yarrow is a strong but relatively safe herb; a very small number of people

have had anaphylactic reactions, which also occurs occasionally with

Chamomile (once or twice out of 150 million doses).

It can be used dried or

fresh to make a tea or tincture. Almost always the flowering tops are used,

though Achilles used the powder of the root. Contraindicated during

pregnancy. Schizandra, Shizandra

(Schizandra chinensis)

This agent is not for the “wounded warrior” but for the “worn-out warrior”:

the person who has taken life by the horns and expended a lot of energy

doing so. However, it is also for the person who has ignored their calling

and worn themselves out fighting against their true calling. Schizandra is native to the border regions of Manchuria and Russia,

down into the Koreas. It is most plentiful in Russia and was used by big-

game hunters in Siberia to improve peripheral vision, mental concentration,

and stamina. It came into Chinese medicine and was known as Wu Wei Zi,

meaning “five-flavored fruit.” It is said to possess all five flavors—sour,

sweet, salty, bitter, and pungent. The actual flavors, according to my tongue,

are salty (in the first instance, as there is some salt on the outside of the

berry), strong sourness, and puckering astringency, followed by a nutty and

mucilaginous taste in the seeds. In addition, it is defined as warming. The most important property is the astringence and it is widely used in

Chinese herbalism for that property. Russian scientists found that

Schizandra contained lignans that have the adaptogenic profile and it

moved into Western popular commerce as an adaptogen. “This Chinese

herb is now used in the West as an adaptogenic tonic, although in China its

chief use is as a tonic astringent,” wrote Michael Tierra (1988, 346).

It is important to differentiate between the traditional and modern

applications. Too many Westerners ignore traditional indications, uses, and theories, thinking their own science is unquestionable. But this information

is important for another reason. The traditional use is associated with the

dried fruit and seed, and is the common form found in the marketplace in

China and the United States. Some modern preparations contain only the

seed or nut. The Chinese herbalists generally aren’t too keen on astringents because

they don’t want to close off a discharge that needs clearance from the body. Instead they tend to use “yang tonics,” or herbs that are warming—to help

the yang or active processes regain control over the water. Schizandra is the

most popular astringent in Chinese herbalism, probably because, as an herb

of five flavors, the astringence is moderated by the other flavors or

constituents. Schizandra is classified as warming but it is not strongly warming. All

astringents are slightly warming. When we stop perspiration, which is

cooling, the net effect is to warm the organism. The taste is not warming,

however, because it is a sour berry, and most sour fruits have a cooling taste

and effect. To make it cooling and vastly improve the taste, combine it with

cherry liquor. Due to the “five flavors,” Schizandra is said to benefit the

“five organs,” that is, the primary or yin organs: lungs, heart, liver, spleen,

and kidneys. Pharmacology

Schizandra contains lignans (schizadrin, gomisin, deoxyschizandrin, and

pregomisin), phytosterols (beta-sitosterols, stigmasterol), volatile oils,

tannins, nutrients (Vitamin C and E).

Constitution

When Schizandra is indicated as a specific medicine, rather than just as a

general tonic, astringent, or adaptogen, the person is either highly dedicated

to some calling for which they sacrifice much and wear themselves out, or,

they conform to social standards to such an extent that they don’t fulfill

their calling and realize that life has passed them by. I learned about this

from Swani Simon, an herbalist in Saarland, Germany. “These are people

that are working too hard, too active,” says Swani, or “people who reach

retirement age and then realize that they wasted their life. Schizandra is

good particularly for those in the early sixties.” She says it is also for people

who, though they have goals they are pursuing, feel frustrated because they haven’t accomplished anything. They are “set in their ways; inflexible;

congested.”

Mind

Schizandra is good for anxiety, agitation, and scattered thinking (Tierra and

Tierra 1998, 2:231).

Astringents are used in Chinese herbalism to bring

together the pieces of the mind or spirit that are going in different

directions. When the “heart” (physically or metaphorically) has been hit by

a shocking blow and the shen is scattered, Schizandra will “relocate and

rehabituate consciousness to the heart,” says herbalist Seán O’Donoghue. Shen is the “soul part” usually translated as “mind” or “spirit”; in terms of

this book, it most similar to Jung’s “Self” or Steiner’s “soul-and-spirit.”

Schizandra is also indicated in “heart neurosis, when a person thinks

something is wrong with their heart,” adds Swani Simon. “Heart not storing the shen” includes the symptoms of attention deficit

and hyperactivity. Herbalist David Winston introduced Hawthorn for this

problem and I have used it repeatedly. Herbalist Thomas Easley uses

Schizandra. He notes that many of the ADD people are kinesthetic learners,

like hunter-gatherers caught in the wrong environment, and Schizandra

matches them very well. These two remedies seldom fail on their own, but

they also make a good combination (see below under the Heart).

Head and Eyes

A symptom called “veiling” may occur, as if something were veiling the

eyes and head, with foggy brain and unclear vision (Huang 2009, 467).

Schizandra definitely increases peripheral vision. I found this very, very

disturbing when I experienced it on a crowded New York City subway

platform after sampling the berries. I could see the people around me, but

not in front of me. The thing about peripheral vision is that animals have it

and hunters want it to be able to sneak up on the animals. So this is one

reason Schizandra is used by hunters in Siberia. In addition it improves

stamina. It can be used like the pemmican made by American Indian

hunters—berries mixed with meat. Lungs

Schizandra is well established as a lung remedy; it strengthens respiration,

deepens the breath, and reduces coughing. This is partly because, as an astringent, it strengthen the kidneys, which “grasp the qi in the lungs.” In

Chinese medicine the depth of respiration is attributed to the kidneys. Remember that nervousness and exhaustion cause shallow breathing. As an adaptogen, it has been used to improve stamina and resistance to

acute diseases or to reduce the length of the sickness. A formula for when a

person is coming down with a cold or flu might be Schizandra, Elder, and

Lemon Balm. Huang Huang (2009) is an empiricist who prefers “specific indications”

derived from historical and personal experience and therefore attempts to

define the action of medicinal agents according to their most characteristic

symptomology. He doesn’t discuss the energetics or the “five-flavors”

theory; he simply gives a symptom picture, primarily based on the lungs. Huang says that Schizandra is indicated in cough or “counterflow,”

where qi ascends in the lungs, and for difficulty in breathing. The patient

has difficulty breathing when lying flat, and is better from breathing while

propped up. There may be chest distention, “froglike rales” or “wheezing

sound in the throat, breathing with an open mouth and raised shoulders.”

There is no trouble when sitting quietly, but panting may occur upon

starting activity. In severe cases there will be fluid loss with sweating,

restless sleep, excessive dreaming, confused dreams, flusteredness,

palpitations, seminal emissions, aching of the lumbar vertebra and knees,

and diarrhea (Huang 2009, 465–67).

The kidneys reach up and “grasp the qi

in the lungs,” which deepens respiration and prevents the “counterflow” of

qi in the lungs that Huang mentions—that is to say, difficulty breathing,

sleep apnea, or asthma. My first Schizandra patient was myself. I had gradually increasing

urination at night and eventually also during the day, with more and more

dribbling, sudden urging, water retention in the hands from kidney backup,

drying out of the skin of the hands and forearms (a leak below can dry out

above), and finally—partly due to accidents—inflammation, spasm, and

drying out in muscles of the back. Lifelong tendencies to insomnia became

worse and worse with the waking at night. The kidneys were not able to

relax from sympathetic into parasympathetic and I finally felt like I was

being driven crazy by the insomnia. In my case the problem seemed to stem

from the nervous system—which could not turn off the sympathetic at

night. This fits the research on the adaptogenic uses, which show balancing in the nervous system. So far, not a lot of studies have been done on the

endocrine. A client I was trying to help couldn’t pay me, so he gave me a quart jar

of Schizandra seed and berry tea with honey as an energetic exchange—the

most worthwhile exchange I have ever received. I drank about three-

quarters of the jar in the first five days. The effects were immediate, deep-

acting, and (after a while) long-lasting. It immediately pumped the water

out of my hands (and elsewhere?), and when this water had passed, I

suddenly went from five to seven visits to the bathroom at night to three,

which is slightly above average for my age. My kidneys and my mind

relaxed, and the insomnia became less uncomfortable and the hours of sleep

increased. As mentioned, in the Chinese organ/system method, “the kidneys” reach

up and “grasp the qi in the lungs.” This is held to deepen respiration and—

asthma. I’ve seen this many times. Kidneys

The first action listed in the Chinese materia medica, and therefore probably

the one for which Schizandra is most commonly used, is “deficiency of the

kidneys.” Since it is a slightly warming astringent, it is specially for yang

deficiency. The kidneys “store the jing,” or primal archetypal/genetic material that

gives every organism its “essence.” They also store the primal yin and yang,

water and fire. A deficiency of jing is seen in slow maturation, low

reproductive powers, and congenital defects. Schizandra is used to stop

“leakage of the jing.” This may occur through excessive sexual activity, or

giving away one’s energy in some way, or it may result from a congenital

deficiency. The primary symptoms are excessive fluid loss from sweating,

night sweats, nocturnal emissions, premature ejaculation, vaginal discharge,

urinary incontinence, and daybreak diarrhea. A signature for the kidneys is

found in the two kidney-shaped seeds found in the fruit. Going deeper, Schizandra is used for spontaneous, uncontrollable

perspiration, frequent urination, and what the old Chinese doctors called

“wasting and thirsting syndrome” (consumption or tuberculosis).

It retains

and encourages production of the various fluids of the body. Liver Schizandra has a very gentle action on the liver and is certainly more gentle

than St. John’s Wort. It is indicated in depression, lethargy, heaviness,

drowsiness, and exhaustion associated with what we would call “toxic

overload” of the liver in Western herbalism. It “supports the liver if the

person has drunk or eaten a lot, and expects a hangover,” notes Seán

O’Donoghue. An herbalist with a liver that had been damaged by a rabies vaccination

(increased liver enzymes in the blood) writes that Schizandra “makes me

happy and energetic ...

so I move more ...

and supply myself with natural

serotonin, I guess,” cutting down on lethargy and depression. “I saw the

same with my mom. She was highly lethargic and she started walking,

going out feeling more alive, basically.”

There is research supporting a possible action on the CP450 enzyme

pathway, like St. John’s Wort, but more gentle. Seán O’Donoghue has

confirmed this in practice. He also considers it blood-sugar balancing in

insulin resistance. Schizandra and Cinnamon can be combined for this. Spleen

The tone in the walls of the intestine is kept strong by the spleen, according

to traditional Chinese medicine. Spleen yang deficiency is associated with

inability to hold back the fluids, or a shedding of water from the intestinal

walls, resulting in diarrhea. The spleen is associated with absorption

problems and it may be that the action of Schizandra as an anemia remedy

is due to an improvement in the absorption of iron through the intestinal

wall. Schizandra can be combined with Yellow Dock Root and Wild Cherry

for heat in the intestines, with diarrhea. Spleen deficiency can also work the opposite way, in cases where there

is “leaky gut.” Here is a pertinent case history. A woman writes:

I’m bipolar and have a lot of digestive and blood-sugar issues

that trigger anxiety, and I take schizandra everyday. And it

works. I’ve never felt better, and when I stop taking it, my

mania worsens, and it gets harder to digest certain foods....

I’ve noticed over the years that my mood swings get worse

when I’ve eaten too much sugar and gluten. I seem to be able

to tolerate them better if I’ve had my regular skizzy berries

(what I call them).

It’s not any specific symptoms. I have

inflammation issues that trigger both the bipolar and chronic

pain flare-up points due to old injuries, so I have to be

extremely careful with my diet. I also take reishi and spiny

date seeds (Suan Zao Ren in TCM) at night to help me sleep. Heart

Schizandra controls “heart-blood and yin deficiency” symptoms such as

palpitation, forgetfulness, insomnia, irregular pulse, and irritability. “Heart-

blood deficiency” refers to cases where the mind is particularly affected by

blood deficiency, resulting in lack of focus and forgetfulness. There is also

insomnia because there is not enough blood to “pacify the spirit,” which is

“stored in the heart,” with waking at two or three in the morning. “Keep on

the nightstand by the bed, for when they wake up,” says Seán O’Donoghue. A common symptom in the unvaccinated after Omicron—also found in

some of the injected—was rapid heartbeat at night, or positional orthostatic

tension syndrome (POTS).

The head starts to fill with blood, the feet are

cold, suddenly the person wakes with a thump of the heart and rapid

heartbeat. Sitting or standing relieves the symptoms but they come back

night after night. Four of us herbalists had this symptom, as well as some of

our clients. The usual formula was Schizandra and Hawthorn, and I also

used Schizandra and cherry liquor. Other agents were sometimes necessary

but this basic formula shortened the duration and strengthened people right

from the start. Another remedy for this symptomology is Pilocarpus

jaborandi. Lomatium was too warming. Reproductive

When the liver is not fully active, breaking down hormones, Schizandra

berry can turn the tide. It may have a direct influence on the hormones,

since it is an adaptogen. It can be for sexual weakness or weakness from too

strong a sex drive. It is probably a normalizer. Australian herbalist Bianca

Patel reports that this berry has restored female libido “many times.”

Research

Now let us turn to the research on Schizandra, which led to its use as an

adaptogen. Russian medical researchers noted that hunters from the tribes in

eastern Siberia, such as the Samoyeds, would chew on the berries to give themselves greater endurance while on the hunt. This led them to examine

that plant for adaptogenic properties. The Chinese name also suggests wide-

spectrum use such as we would associate with an adaptogen. Donald Yance gives a thorough account of the modern research on

Schizandra (2013, 579–83).

He repeats the report that the fruit acids in the

berry can act on the seeds and destroy the most important ingredient, the

schizandrins. The account is quite valuable in other regards, but I asked

David Winston about the fruit-acid problem and he said it was a

translational error. At any rate, all adaptogenic research has been done on

the seed with the berry eliminated because the researchers were looking for

the active ingredient—the lignins. For this reason, the following list of

indications is divided into “berry and seed” and “seed.”

Specific Indications (berry and seed)

Mind agitated and scattered; anxiety, forgetfulness; insomnia, bad dreams;

stress-induced palpitations and asthma; stuffiness, congestion, and

constriction of the head; hyperactivity; colds (leaf tea); shallow breathing,

coughs, weakness, wet phlegm, wheezing, asthma, chronic obstructive

pulmonary disease; heart palpitations associated with nervousness, sleep

apnea; normalizes blood pressure; frequent urination, urinary incontinence,

impotence; vaginal discharge, excessive menstrual bleeding; low libido in

women; menopausal night sweats; or other excessive perspiration. Seed: Strengthens the response of the nervous system and body in general

to stress; nervous depression and exhaustion; strengthens the senses;

beneficial to eyesight; cardioprotective; normalizes stomach acid, improves

gastric motility and secretion; protects the liver and rebuilds after damage

from alcohol and drugs; lessens excess febrile reaction; low platelets

(combine with Ceanothus); preventive and active against cancer (research

collected in Yance 2013, 579).

Formulation

Reishi and Schizandra are a natural combination (Seán O’Donoghue).

They

are both what we could call “shaman remedies,” supporting people who

have strong spiritual drives and overextend themselves; also for collecting

the thoughts and improving the application of the mind. The taste of Schizandra is a bit nasty so I like to prepare it in cherry

liqueur, which moderates the flavor and makes a cooling formula. It combines well with Hawthorn or Wild Cherry or cherry liquor. I have a

further modification under Dragon Medicine. Preparation

Schizandra berry decoction sweetened with honey improves the taste and is

an effective medicine. This retains the warm property. Schizandra berry

wine or tincture is best made in a sweet medium like brandy. The cool tea

favors the kidneys, the wine may seek out the heart, while the warm tea

would be more active on the skin and digestion. One can simply chew the

dried berry. Oak

(Quercus alba, Q. robur)

I wrote extensively about Oak in The Book of Herbal Wisdom (1997, 409–

20).

There is a lot of interesting material from homeopathy—from Dr. Compton Burnett, who used Oak tincture in 25-drop doses—which I

quoted. He gives a lot of case histories showing a successful treatment of

alcoholism; I have seen this in practice too. Oak, the tree of integrity, re-

establishes lost integrity but also teaches us not to try to “out-integrity” the

issues of life. So, it “normalizes integrity”—what a great property!

The European Oak (Q. robur) is one of the Bach flower essences,

though one can just as well use various Oak-bark tinctures in its place—in

drop doses. The officinal Oak in North America is the White Oak (Q. alba).

The Oak genus (Quercus) falls into two major subdivisions: the White Oaks

and the Red. The former have blunt leaves, the latter have sharp. Any

member of the White Oak–half of the genus can be used instead of the

official Q. alba. Dr. Bach said Oak was for people who fight on against adversity, never

give up, but never succeed. This is for both a weakness of integrity and an

overreliance on this trait—people who try to “out-integrity” the issues of

life. It is also for those who lack integrity in some part of their life and fight

the weakness on and on, without giving up or succeeding. Therefore, it is a

remedy for drug addiction and addictions of other kinds. After Susan had been thrown from a horse and injured, she had swollen

blue-black veins all over her chest. This was a good indication for Oak. I gave her this remedy and she said: “I understand now. This is the remedy

for knowing which battles you can win.” That’s Warrior Medicine. Slow-

growing Oak may also be a Turtle Medicine. 6

School for Shamans

The texture of the branches was so even—the leaves so

thick and in that conspiring order—it was not a wood but

a building. I conceived it indeed to be the Temple of

Nature, where she had joined discipline to her doctrine. THOMAS VAUGHAN

To understand a proverb and a figure, the words of the

wise and their dark sayings. PROVERBS 1:6

Having made our preparations for the journey, we are now ready for

“shaman school.” Our education falls into two distinct units: the outer

teachings and the inner. The former are explanatory and informational; they

are communicated by speech. The latter are internal and can only be learned

directly from a teacher (person, plant, animal, stone, or other being) as an

inner knowing, by empathy, dream, or descriptions of analogous

experiences (example: the parables of Jesus).

The reason we need an

outside teacher is that we literally don’t possess the hardwiring for this

knowledge. We are “in the dark.”

One way or another, the student finds their way to the kindergarten of

shamans. How do we teach kindergarteners?

Stories!

So, this is the first instrument of instruction on the path. We have already touched on this

subject several times, but it important enough to require a formal lesson. Rudolf Steiner explains (1922, 3):

The first point in occult science is by no means the advancing of

assertions or opinions which are to be proven, but the

communication, in a purely narrative form, of experiences which are

to be met with in the world other than the one that is to be seen with

physical eyes and touched with physical hands. On the shamanic path, one does not begin with dogmatic suppositions

or assertions as in conventional medicine and science. One tells stories and

describes personal experience in the hope that the student will resonate with

them later on, when they have their own experiences. Of course, there are exceptions to all rules. When we have seen

mysteries that are not generally acknowledged in ordinary society, we often

simply have to speak as if they were true. This was the case with William

Blake. He lived in a time when essentially nobody understood his paradigm. He experienced the world of imagination as the real, the whole, and the

true. Because he had no peers or students, except for a few young artists

who were baffled by him but valued his eccentricities, Blake made

assertions as if what he saw in his imagination was the whole and simple

truth:

I assert, for my self that I do not behold the outward creation, and

that to me it is hindrance and not action. It is as the dirt upon my

feet. No part of Me. “What!” it will be questiond, “When the sun

rises, do you not see a round disk of fire somewhat like a guinea?”

Oh, no, no!

I see an innumerable company of the heavenly host,

crying, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty!” I question not

my corporeal or vegetative eye any more than I would question a

window concerning a sight. I look through it, and not with it. (Blake

1982, 565–66; punctuation and capitalization modified)

This quotation comes from Blake’s A Vision of the Last Judgment, in which

he sets out a grand overview of numerous spiritual “states” or categories

into which souls fall as a result of their relationship to the Spirit World. Indeed, the Last Judgment is a “Stupendous Vision,” like a visionary hologram, which people see according to their spiritual position and the

character of their vision (Blake 1982, 554).

Late in life, Blake made a few friends who were as eccentric as he,

including the astrologer John Varley. This friend reported in his Treatise on

Zodiacal Physiognomy (1823) about an experience he and Blake had one

night. A tiny flea projected itself into a manlike image that, said Blake, “he

never anticipated in an insect.” He then drew a picture of the face and

mouth, staring intently, as if it were modeling for him. When the flea

changed position, Blake had to start over again. When he finished the

drawing,

the Flea told him that all Fleas were inhabited by the souls of such

men as were by nature bloodthirsty to excess, and were therefore

providentially confined to the size and form of fleas; otherwise,

were he himself, for instance, the size of a horse, he would

depopulate a great portion of the country. (Traill and Mann 1904,

5:xliii)

Later, the flea permitted Blake to draw his entire figure, resulting in a

painting called The Ghost of a Flea. When Blake finished, Varley

exclaimed that the flea was the exact image of a Gemini!

I saw this painting

at the Tate in London and, indeed, it did look like a Gemini. We’re an

irritating bunch. The prominent shaman stories I am familiar with are the seven major

stories in Genesis, the Higher Arcana of the tarot deck, and the Scotch

ballads that teach us about the faery people. The Genesis stories also show

up in Sufism and the Qur’an because they were originally a cycle of stories

universal to the Middle East. What the shamanic educator is trying to do is scatter images along the

path so that they will bubble up to consciousness when the student has the

analogous experience. The use of analogy is the basis of our language in

every way. Herbs are analogies, too. The Inner Court and the Outer

The outer teachings are those that can be conveyed by speech while the

inner are those that can only by conveyed by empathic mind-link or in

dreamtime. The former are associated with the reptiles because they don’t dream and don’t have a warm heart capable of empathy. The latter are

associated with the warm-blooded animals, who do dream and possess a

loving heart and the aptitude for empathy—as every pet owner knows. These have been called the Outer and Inner Courts of the Temple. The Reptilian Lessons

Because they don’t dream, the reptiles don’t have direct contact with the

Spirit World. But that does not mean that they cannot teach us valuable

lessons. These, however, have to do with preparations that bring us closer to

being able to cross over into the Spirit World. That means they are the

exemplars of the lessons of the Outer Court. Also, because animal instincts

first appeared in the reptiles, we inherit the instinct for truth from them. Because they don’t directly reach the Spirit World in dream, they have to do

it through the instinct for truth. They also have other faculties that direct

one toward Paradise from the outside. In dreamtime we are on the inside. The Genesis story is based on spiritual seership or imaginal readouts of

the spiritual history of the world. The serpent in the Tree represented the

doorway out of Eden. This is actually the Dragon, the grandfather of all

reptiles. After the incident in Eden, the karma for the Dragon, according to

the narrative, was that it would have to crawl on its belly and eat dust. The

oral historian who dictated the story was a master (or mistress, really) of

verbal economy. She doesn’t say it was a Dragon, but infers it through the

curse—or karmic readout. On the one hand, the Dragon lost its limbs and

wings to become Snake, in the outer world. On the other, the Dragon itself

was exiled into the mineral realm of the Earth (“dust shall you eat all the

rest of your days”) because it had trapped human consciousness in the

material plane and had to stay there with the humans it misdirected. We see

this in Michael Harner’s vision of the dragonlike creatures that claimed to

be the progenitors of all life and the entire planet. After the end of the dinosaur age, there were four basic kinds of reptiles

—alligator/crocodiles, snakes, lizards, and turtles. They represent four paths

back to the boundary of Eden. Because we can dream of the reptiles, in the

end they can appear in dreamtime and they can operate as a person’s

familiar or animal spirit. The cherubim that God set up to block the path back to Eden are the

crocodiles. They are stationed outside the Garden. They entered the Hebrew reference system from the Egyptian pantheon and there is more information

about them in Egypt than in the Hebrew Bible. The Crocodile Lords of Death are in charge of the recapitulation of life

experiences, which is demanded of the dead when they return from the

theater of life in order to “give an account of themselves.” The shamans

have learned to recapitulate as a method to reduce luggage on their road

back to the Spirit World. The alligators and crocodiles help us let go of

everything that has happened from the beginning of time down to the

present. This is the first method acquired from the reptilian life-wave for

approaching the Spirit World. The lizards are tricksters. The predator grabs the tail but loses the rest of

the meal. “Ha ha, ya missed me!” says Lizard. Tricksters help us by

teaching us not to take ourselves so seriously, by interjecting humor that

reduces morbid seriousness. They help us get to places we would never

otherwise have gone, because they can trick the dictator/clown/ego. The

lizards help us to see all the things we would otherwise have missed on our

path through life. Lizard provides the second reptilian lesson. Snake is an example of de-evolution or non-evolution, since it

regressed, losing its limbs. The consciousness of Snake is spiritual

ambivalence. It doesn’t care about moving forward on the evolutionary arc. It represents don Juan’s “Worthy Opponent,” a person who is lawless and

tries to take advantage of us. In surviving what they do to us, we learn. This

is the third reptilian lesson. Snake is the guardian of the akashic records and the third eye that can

read them, because no other animal can stand to embrace everything that

has ever happened since the beginning of time to the present—the good, the

bad, and the ugly. The akashic record is more detailed than we need, but it

is representative of what we need to see in order to recapitulate. Turtle stands on the boundary of the cold-blooded and the warm-

blooded animals because it has some control over its internal temperature—

by pressing its body against its shell it can squeeze out water to increase its

internal temperature. Also, the female turtle can hang on to the fertilized

eggs for two seasons, until weather conditions are right. This anticipates the

warm-blooded animals, who mature the fetus within themselves. Turtle is

getting close to the warm-blooded life-wave. It represents the path that

brings us right to the boundary of Spirit World: the path of Nature Wisdom. It has reduced every experience from the beginning of time to the present

into wisdom. So it finishes the reptilian lesson book. The Dragons

Cursed to eat the dust of the Earth, Dragon, the ancestor of the reptilian life-

wave, passed into the mineral realm. This is why we associate Dragons with

treasures, minerals, gems, and metals in the earth. The reason for this was

that the Dragons, having caused the exile of humanity from the Spirit World

to the materiality of life on Earth, had to take responsibility for their action

and remain as the Earth Spirit Dragons, Lords of the Mineral Realm. Not

only that, but the Dragons thought of themselves as the true creators,

because they had usurped the position of Creator (“Did God really say

that?”).

This shows up in Michael Harner’s vision of the “dragonlike”

creatures that claimed to be creators of the planet and all life upon it. They

had to remain with their captives (ourselves) in the mineral realm. The Dragons are our rulers, just as “the mold of man” (Adam) claims to

be the True God and commands us to worship him. Both want to immerse

us in the material element (“eat, drink, and be merry”).

This represents the

wedding of the two aspects that caused the rise of the human being as we

are—product of the merger of the reptilian brain with human consciousness. The survival instinct merged with human self-awareness to create the self-

centered ego, identification with the material world, separation from

spiritual vision and dream (the “Tree of Life”), substituting man-made

morality and logic (the “Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil”).

The curse on the serpent or dragon goes on: “cursed art thou from

among all cattle, and from among all beasts of the field.” The other animals,

at least the warm-blooded ones, are not cursed. This is why they still offer a

path of return to the spirit land. They remain innocent of spiritual wrong,

living their lives on Earth and then returning to join their Elders in the Spirit

World; a path we too can take if we become conscious of our own animal

self. Two species fell in Eden: Human and Dragon. When we meet again in

the depths of dreamtime, we are both freed from the necessity of staying

forever submerged in the mineral realm. The soul becomes an immortal,

Eden is restored to the physical-spiritual paradise it was supposed to be, and the hunger of the Dragons for true spiritual knowledge (“Did God really say

that?”) is fulfilled. Nobody would ever believe that alternative reality is set up like this, or

that we are so far away from the Spirit World that we can’t even imagine it,

or that Dragons are real, or rule over us. Nobody would knowingly seek

these things and nobody could find them—unless the spirit cast upon them

the fishing net of magical success. I could only see these things under the

influence of coronavirus, which dramatically increased my DMT levels. There is no virtue in believing any of this. The virtue is in storing the

stories in the quilt-work of our memory, so that it is there when we pass

through the resonant experience. Then the memory pops up—even deep in

dreamtime—and reaffirms that we are on the path. Then we realize that the

“shaman story” was true; not necessarily in contemporary human

consciousness, but in eternal spiritual/visionary reality. Alligator Ways

The alligator or crocodile grabs its prey and wrestles it underwater until it

can no longer breathe, gives up resistance, and dies. This is analogous to

what happens to the human soul after death. The Crocodile Lords of Death

grab us and hold on to us until we stop struggling and we recapitulate

everything that happened to us. People that experience near-death report that their entire life flashes

before them. According to folklore and esoteric teachings, the dead relive

their lives, experiencing everything that was done to them and everything

that they did to others. This is not a time for pity but for cold-blooded self-

examination and self-understanding. The Lords of Death hold the dead

without pity: “crocodile tears.”

There are, therefore, three main lessons in the Alligator Way: facing

death without self-pity (“using death as an advisor,” as don Juan would

say); recapitulation or reliving the experiences of life so as not to be

unconsciously controlled by them; and familiarity with the terrible (but

useful) place of no pity. The gentle Quaker botanist William Bartram gives us some idea of how

terrifying “death by Alligator” would be (1955, 115–17):

Behold him rushing forth from the flags and reeds. His enormous

body swells. His plaited tail brandished high, floats upon the lake. The water like a cataract descends from his opening jaw. Clouds of

smoke issue from his dilated nostrils. The earth trembles with his

thunder. When immediately from the opposite coast of the lagoon,

emerges from the deep his rival champion. They suddenly dart upon

each other. The boiling surface of the lake marks their rapid course,

and a terrific conflict commences. They now sink to the bottom of

the lake folded together in horrid wreaths. The water becomes thick

and discolored. Again they rise, their jaws clap together, re-echoing

through the deep surrounding forests. Suddenly, Bartram became aware that he was in a dangerous spot:

My apprehensions were highly alarmed after being a spectator of so

dreadful a battle. It was obvious that every delay would but tend to

increase my danger and difficulties, as the sun was near setting, and

the alligators gathering around my harbor from all quarters. He gets into his boat to try to get to a safer place:

On board, penetrating the first line of those which surrounded my

harbor, they gave way; but being pursued by several very large ones,

I kept strictly on the watch, and paddled with all my might towards

the entrance of the lagoon, hoping to be sheltered there from the

multitude of my assailants; but ere I had halfway reached the place,

I was attacked on all sides, several endeavoring to overset the canoe. My situation now became perilous to the last degree: two very large

ones attacked me closely, at the same instant, rushing up with their

heads and part of their bodies above the water, roaring terribly and

belching floods of water over me. They struck their jaws together so

close to my ears, as almost to stun me, and I expected every moment

to be dragged out of the boat and instantly devoured. This went on in various iterations for the rest of the evening and through

an uneasy night with more terrifying reptilian adventures the next morning. At one point, Bartram apologizes to the reader that his account will seem too incredible to be believed. Every once in a while, he stops to catalog the

plants and flowers he observed during breaks from the excitement. Death as an Advisor

Alligator Medicine teaches us not to fear death but also not to forget that we

are mortal. We should not waste our precious time while we are sojourning

here on Earth, which is itself a precious resource that is being squandered

left and right as I write. We should use that time, when we have free will—

hard wrought by Adam and Eve—to grow spiritually. Instead, so many

people are time- and space-wasters, living a riotous life of self-enjoyment

using the Earth’s resources. A chief characteristic of the shaman is the association with death. The

shaman is defined as someone who has died and come back to life. A visit

to the Land of the Dead is as innate to the shamanic calling as citizenship in

the Living Nature is innate to animism. The two are opposite sides of the

same coin, Life and Death. The ancient Mayans left us their hieroglyphic

descriptions of the “womb-tomb” of the Great Mother (Gillette 1997, 107).

Shamans often work with the dead and the relationship of the living

with the dead. What, therefore, do the shamans have to say about the dead,

the Land of the Dead, the Lords of the Dead, and the processes of dying and

death?

This is a huge subject and we cannot give an answer that reflects all

shamans or societies since there are bound to be differences of opinion and

experience in a discipline that is so widespread. I think, however, that most

shamans would agree with the following basic precept: If people really

understood what awaits them in the afterlife, they would be ready to put

down their toys and adopt the way of the warrior, the recapitulation, and

suffer no pity as much as necessary. This is the essential work necessary for becoming a true shaman—

though the work is still outside the Inner Court. A lot of modern writers avoid descriptions of the afterworld because of

a widespread dislike for the pictures of heaven and hell with heavy moral

overtones that originated in the Church. Another bunch of writers just want

to avoid such a morbid subject. There are also cultural differences. The

Indian People from North America don’t generally like to discuss this

subject. On the other hand, the Day of the Dead is quite important in

Mexican folk culture. The ancient Meso-American Indians were immersed in death. The ruler of the land was the shaman king, represented by the

Black Jaguar, the totem of the Lord of the Underworld. The North American Indians generally had a more cheerful outlook on

life after death. The botanist William Bartram, “of the tribe of white men, of

Pennsylvania,” the Quakers, “who esteem themselves brothers and friends

to the red men,” wrote in 1791 (1955, 391):

They believe in a future state, where the spirit exists, which they call

of the world of spirits, where they enjoy different degrees of

tranquility or comfort, agreeably to their life spent here: a person

who in his life has been an industrious hunter, provided well for this

family, an intrepid and active warrior, just, upright, and done all the

good he could, will, they say, in the world of spirits, live in a warm,

pleasant country, where are expansive green, flowery savannas and

high forests, watered with rivers of pure waters, replenished with

deer, and every species of game; a serene, unclouded and peaceful

sky; in short, where there is fulness of pleasure uninterrupted. Colonel Ely Parker, the Seneca secretary for Ulysses S. Grant, looked

upon the Christian heaven as a place where the Indian would be freed from

the presence of the white man. There is also the “tell it like it is” theory of “death education.” One

modern shamanic author who describes her visit to the Land of the Dead is

Olga Kharitidi in Master of Lucid Dreams (2001).

Her mentor in dreaming

brought her to that realm. She observed what happened to the dead on the

levels of sensation, emotion, and thought. The connection to physical

sensation does not automatically end after the death of the physical body. She describes places where sensation is extracted from body parts in

tremendous pain because of the attachment to the body the living had

during life on Earth. How much more so is the psychological suffering, as

the dead slowly give up their attachments to what they loved (or hated)

during life. Everyone must relive and let go of their life experiences, or they

will get stuck and suffer their personal, egoic attachments endlessly. The

dismemberment of the life force and soul is called the “second death” in

occultism. There are several ways in which people can get stuck going through the

recapitulation of the afterlife. Many people did not believe in the afterlife while they were alive. For these people, the only solution is the obliteration

of the soul. Dr. Kharitidi describes how these souls dissolved forever in the

“Lake of Oblivion.” No selfhood remains: there will be no reincarnation or

existence in the community of souls. Kharitidi realized that it was a act of

mercy for these souls; otherwise they would flounder forever in delusion. Her mentor was careful to make sure she did not touch the Lake of

Oblivion. My friend Peter had extensive personal experience with the “Lake of

Oblivion.” He had HIV AIDS and for six years he wasn’t sure if he would

wake up when he went to bed every night. He was involved in a prayer

group for those with HIV and their partners. Because he had gifts of

spiritual seership (and was close to death himself), many times he observed

that when a person died who did not believe in the afterlife, they would be

dissolved into nothingness in the Lake. Meanwhile, the surviving partner

poured their love after them, only to have it dissolve in the abyss, leaving

them truly bereft. The reverse is also true: the love of a partner, relative, or friend can save

the dead from dissolution by maintaining the bond of affection. If the

deceased person places more energy in that bond than in disbelief in the

afterlife, the orientation can change. The living, since they still have free

will, can help the dead. In William Blake’s picture of souls rising to eternal

life in A Vision of the Last Judgment, he reserved a place for true lovers

who could never be parted. Peter lived for another thirty years (he’s not

dead yet).

After his partner died, he was rewarded with a vision of him

waving from the other world. The novelist Isaac Bachevis Singer said in a lecture I attended when

young: “I have seen people on their deathbed, with minutes to live, still

yearning for true love.” Hopefully, there is an answer for all. Sadly, the living can be dragged down into death by the dead that they

still love. When the teenage stepson of a friend committed suicide, he had a

terrible time letting go. I dreamed of the son going down a chute, way, way

down into the Land of the Dead. A force then tugged on my friend’s feet,

trying to yank him down into that world. I warned him. He had a good

doctor at the VA; she told him: “This kind of loss often kills a person.” One

day my friend called me from the park near his house. After a while he said

he had a gun in his hand. I didn’t know it until he decided not to shoot

himself: I guess I talked him into living. I’m an herbalist, not a counselor, but he must have listened. He was a drunk for another five years, but

eventually he pulled himself out of that morass too. A lot of us would like to stay with our loved ones after death, but

ultimately, for many, there will be a separation. Only those with a genuine

spiritual connection will remain in contact. A. S. Raleigh explained (1932,

17):

The spirit transcends the personality, and all human relationships are

part of the personality. They pertain to the personal plane. The

individuality is related to none save those who are of the same

Purusha, so to speak; save kindred souls or kindred spirits, and death

does not materially affect them. Some people have hurt others so badly they can’t stand to recapitulate

the pain they would have to experience, or they want to identify with their

ego rather than their spirit. Although they are conscious in the next world,

they cannot join the collective world of souls, the Soul World. As

Emmanuel Swedenborg related in his account of heaven and hell, it is

actually painful for these souls to experience the love that binds together the

healthy, intact Soul World, so they have to separate. These people identify

with their egos and become the “hungry ghosts” that live in the Outer

Darkness. For the worst of the worst, the atma itself will be dissolved in the Abyss

of Nothingness. These people did not just commit their conscious self,

biological self, and soul, to selfish pursuits that hurt others. They grabbed

ahold of the will of their spirit and applied its unbending power to their

horrific deeds. So even the primal atom of the spirit, the atma itself, has to

be dissolved in the Abyss of Nothingness. Perhaps this happens to all who

wander as hungry ghosts in the Outer Darkness. I don’t know; I only saw it

one time. A lot of mystics seek to dissolve themselves into the cosmic

Nothingness. This is a spiritual delusion. As long as we are willing

ourselves to go anywhere, including Nothingness, we are acting out of

Somethingness. Beyond being a delusion, this is an act of rebellion against

the creation itself and Creator who made it, as if the creation itself were a

bad thing and their individuality was also bad. This is just more eating from

the fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil—moralizing against creation and Creator, like the Gnostics of old, who thought Creator

was evil. The coils of the Great Serpent or Dragon curl around the Abyss of

Nothingness. The Bible speaks derisively of this particular Dragon, but

someone has to take out the garbage. It is not the fault of the Dragon of the

Abyss if people need to be dissolved down there. Those reptiles get around

a lot in the regions of the dead. In the afterlife, a person has the opportunity to face their inner demons,

overcome their challenges, preserve their individuality, and side with the

spirit. Of course, we have to have made a habit of this during life because in

death we have no other will than that which we bring from life. The only parts of the soul that survive the recapitulation of death are

those where the soul merged with the spirit. This would be the soul that

listened to the whispering of the spirit in a greater or lesser degree. “Gurdjieff is emphatic in his assertion that man who does not fulfill his

cosmic duties by his own ‘conscious labors and intentional sufferings’ loses

his immortal soul and after death is destroyed forever” (Bennett 1976, 211).

In the dissolution of the afterlife, even the ego ends up having a role. In

life it was associated with decision-making and it therefore contains a

record of all the decisions—or movements of the assemblage point—during

life. In the afterlife it remains as the shade, which contains a record of all

that occurred during life. In this sense the ego is eternal too, but only as a

voiceless, will-less, immobilized relic in the labyrinthian halls of the cosmic

library of the Underworld. Here everything that ever happened in time and

space is recorded in all its tedious detail. If there were no such record, it

would be impossible to maintain integrity in the worlds of time and space. The Creator would be irresponsible if he had not created a mechanism for

cause and effect in time and space. The laws of karma and cosmic

recordkeeping are built into creation. If the soul never touched the spirit, the shade would be so boring that

nobody would ever want to read the record it left behind. And if it were

positively hurtful to others, other people would be repelled by it. But if it

were inspiring, remarkable, and unique—reflecting real individuality—it

would be like a library book that people would want to seek out and read. So, even in its dark, forgotten eternity, the shade may have visitors—or not. Witches in dreamtime often use death to destroy their victims. Witches

from a reservation in northern Minnesota attached death to my energy body one time. My friend Sondra had to spent an hour and a half getting the curse

off. At the beginning of the second hour, I saw and felt death—it looked to

me like an enormous raptor-headed man in my imagination. So I thank

those worthy opponents for letting me see death so clearly. “Funny,” said

Sondra, “those witches spoke English, so I had to do the whole ceremony in

Tsalagi (Cherokee).”

Those witches don’t fool around. I had a friend up on that rez who was

attacked by the same set of witches because she was interested in herbal

medicine. They threatened her. When she didn’t pay attention, they came to

her house, hung her from the ceiling of her living room, and left her body

there for her children to discover when they came home from grade school. The tribal police were famously corrupt—one Minneapolis newspaper

called it the “last banana republic in North America”; they ruled it a suicide. A century before, this same reservation had numerous serious, careful,

well-trained practitioners of herbalism and medicine. This was recorded by

ethnobotanist Francis Densmore in 1919.

Federal education and healthcare

displaced these practitioners. The motto of the Bureau of Indian Affairs was

“destroy the Indian to make the man.” They destroyed all healing

knowledge and authority, all community goodness, that didn’t come from

the government and the white man’s way. As the healers died out, the

witches took over—or were the only ones left with the plant knowledge. One of my most important teachers of Indian Medicine was a witch—

He Who Must Not Be Named. I had to overlook his true orientation, but

eventually we went our separate ways. We were herbal brothers though, and

he learned a lot from me while I learned from him. “I never learned so

much about Indian Medicine since I left home as I have from Matthew,” he

said to one of our friends. On the shamanic path, we learn from whoever has the similar energetic

temperament, not from who is “good” or “bad.” Anyway, we are not to

judge and do not know the outcomes for our fellow beings. He also had a

love for helping people and in the afterlife I believe the love of others has

come back to help him. Someone once asked this teacher why he used the word “witch” in a

pejorative fashion. “You have to understand,” he replied. “In your language

you only have one word for witch. In my language we have twenty-two.”

Because adults are more resistant to psychic manipulation, the witches

try to kill the children in the family—or the curses will roll off the parents onto the kids. Witches will even kill children and adults, including their

own family members, as they try to expand and clear their psychic field of

play. They are often kicked out of the community for its own protection. A friend who grew up on an Apache reservation told how, during a

tribal election that occurred when he was seven, he was warned to be

careful and not to venture far from the house. One day he heard a puppy

whimpering in the desert. He went to investigate. No matter how far he

walked, the sound was always further away. Suddenly he realized with a

chill that something was not right. Fortunately, he was able to find his way

back to the house. He was greeted with the combination of weeping and

remonstrances that a beloved child who has not followed directions will

receive. One of my friends was not so lucky. He liked to go about helping people

on several reservations. One of his children, in the bloom of health, died in

his sleep. The medicine man explained: “The curses were sent to you, but

you are strong, so they rolled off onto your son. This is why I myself no

longer live on the reservation.”

For the dominant culture, witches are nothing more than fantasies, but

in the Indian world they are taken seriously. After the Zunis signed a treaty

with the federal government, a group of elders visited Salem,

Massachusetts, to congratulate the leaders there for their effective action in

combating witchcraft in the community (Jenkins 2004, 31).

We are not allowed to interfere with the will of another being, but if

they inflict upon us or a loved one, we have the right to hold their hand to

the fire until they let go. This is what Alligator Medicine does: it grabs the

prey, wrestles it underwater, and holds on to it until it stops fighting. That is

the medicine of the place of no pity. In his interactions with his literary hero, the poet John Milton, Blake

reported that the unfulfilled soul of the great Puritan poet announced his

return to Earth so that the unredeemed, misunderstood parts of himself

(particularly his relationships with women and sex) could be relived to free

himself from these mistakes. Blake considered the deceased Milton to be

his artistic mentor, just as Dante’s mentor was Virgil, one of the great poets,

though a pagan. “I will go down to self-annihilation and eternal death, lest the Last

Judgment come & find me unannihilate,” Milton explained to Blake. “And I

be siez’d & giv’n into the hands of my own Selfhood.” The “annihilation and eternal death” of Milton’s “Selfhood” resulted in the “Human Form” of

Milton appearing in Blake’s garden at his cottage in Felpham, “clothed in

black, severe & silent.” Strangely, Blake and don Juan use the exact same

term for the part of a person that resists the flexibility necessary to process

the experiences of life: the human form. Finally, reports Blake, Milton and

his female parts are brought together in harmony. The Twenty-Four

Cathedral Cities of Albion (Britain) are reawakened to their spiritual tasks,

Jesus (the Divine Human Imagination) enters the bosom of Albion (fallen

humanity), Blake falls unconscious in his garden and awakens to find “my

sweet Shadow of Delight,” Mrs. Blake, leaning over him (Blake 1982, 108,

138, 143).

The Recapitulation

Blake was helping Milton “recapitulate” his life experiences. Instead of

waiting for the winnowing floor of the Underworld after death, the

shamanic candidate recapitulates his or her life while still living, getting rid

of illusions and complexes that take psychic energy to keep in place. This

frees up energy to seek new goals—the actualization of the spirit being the

great goal. It also provides a recapitulation for the Lords of Death, so that

they are satisfied when the shamanic candidate appears before them. Most

importantly, it is down in the Underworld that the shaman is able to find his

or her animal self. That is the goal of the shaman and when this event has

occurred, he or she is no longer a candidate or seeker but a baby shaman. Finally, it allows the shaman to be able to help another soul, or souls, and it

appears that this is what Blake was doing for Milton. A full recapitulation touches upon all experiences that left a powerful

impression upon the soul. The tape of the experience keeps repeating until it

is fully relived and released. It is stuck in this vicious circle until the

candidate lays their consciousness upon the matter, feels it in its entirety,

and finally can let it go. Recapitulation in waking hours is excellent; in

dream, even more ideal. One night I woke up out of a deep sleep suffering a bout of

tachycardia, the first time I had ever experienced that in my

life and—for many years—the only time. I was simultaneously

aware of some deep feelings. As I lay quietly, they were

clarified. When I was two years old, my parents left the only

home I had ever known, Ocmulgee village on the Big Cypress

Seminole Reservation in the Florida Everglades. I understand

Muskogee and English enough to function in daily life, but not

enough to grasp an abstract idea like leaving the only home I

ever knew. I couldn’t imagine such a thing. So it couldn’t be

explained to me where we were going, or for how long. The

life that was all I had ever known just disappeared and I

evidently suffered some anguish and confusion and—as the

dream made clear—deep mourning for the loss of my home. This was an event I could not possibly have recollected

consciously so it needed to be recalled in dreamtime. The average person holds off the recapitulation until after physical

death. They want to live and relive the pleasures of the soul and body

without having to give them up. However late in life, the recapitulation may

start spontaneously. Old folks ponder their lives and are better at giving up

attachments than young ones. They are already getting a head start on life

after death. People who die in midlife have a much harder time with the

afterlife because they were set on many goals or had attachments they

weren’t planning on giving up. The attachments of children shouldn’t run

very deep so they are recapitulated more painlessly in the afterlife. It would seem like recapitulating the diverse experiences of a lifetime

would be like a haystack of feelings that would be impossible to analyze. Fortunately, life experiences fall into spiritual “States,” as Blake calls them

—basic categories. While we could subdivide in great detail, the number

seven would be enough. That is why there are seven rungs on the shaman’s

ladder, seven directions in Native American spirituality, in Ezekiel’s chariot,

the Throne of God in the Book of Revelations, Jacob Boehme’s vision of

Creator and creation, or the Merkabah of Jewish mysticism. This is what

Blake called a “Stupendous Vision” (1982, 554).

Douglas Gillette gives a description from the ancient Mayan standpoint

(1997, 40):

These great “star gates” lay at either end of the World Tree/Vision

Serpent—one at its foot in the southern sky and the other in its

branches in the far north. The southern portal was the White-

Bone/Black Transformer/Blacking Dreaming Place, the entrance to

the Underworld. The north portal the Maya called the 01 Portal. This was the portal through which the souls of newborn babies enter

the earth plane from the Otherworld. We have to “give the Lords of Death what they want,” recounting our

life, releasing our attachments, yet retaining for ourselves the pith of our

experiences. Here’s a warrior story that describes giving them what they

want:

My grandfather was Secretary of the War Resisters League

during World War Two—that would make him the opponent of

the Secretary of War in the U. S. government. He told this

story about a war resister from the Vietnam era. A young

soldier decided that he opposed the war and didn’t want to

participate in it. One day his sergeant noticed that he was

limping and sent him to the doctor, but he couldn’t find

anything wrong. The young soldier was cheerful, but

continued to limp. Then his commanding officer noticed and

sent him to the doctor. Still nothing showed up. Still cheerful,

still limping. Then the commander of the base noticed and

sent him to the doctor. “Well, I can’t find anything wrong with

you,” said the doctor, “but I’m going to have to give you a

medical discharge because we can’t have a limping soldier.”

As he left the camp, he walked without a limp. Another medicine animal that personifies recapitulation is the noble

Salmon. She returns to the water where she was born—from the ocean

where she has lived. She traces her exact route, past every rock and

waterfall, past angelica stalks, reeds, tree roots, upstream to the quiet

headwaters of her creation. Here her species is reborn. In Celtic lore,

Salmon represents wisdom, in particular the wisdom of self-knowledge

derived from the recapitulation. The Place of No Pity

There are some pretty hard lessons on the shamanic path. These have great

value if they do not destroy the aspirant. On the path of the spiritual warrior,

one cannot indulge oneself in self-pity. Ultimately, one has to give all of that up. Therefore we learn to use the “place of no pity” (another don

Juanism).

This is something we can apply to ourselves, but not to others without

their consent—that would be cruelty. On the other hand, if someone violates

our inner space, we have the right to exert no pity upon them in order to get

them to leave our energy field alone. One can hold them in the place of no

pity until they let go. The same result can be accomplished a lot less

expensively by shifting to the focal point of the human spirit. This only

works when both the “victim” and the “perpetrator” are willing to forgive. The place of no pity is like the stick, while the human spirit is like the

carrot. Théun Mares makes a very important point. If one is not talented at

“seeing” (sensing with the energy body), one can instead use the place of no

pity to isolate truth: it forces us to see the truth. The reptiles are associated

with the place of no pity and the instinct for truth. Sensing with the energy

body and dreaming release problems with less suffering. The cold-blooded reptiles do not dream, so their address lies outside

dreamtime. Yet, they too are creatures of God and therefore, they have the

ability to determine truth from falsehood. The warm-blooded animals

(including humans) experience the truth of the Spirit World directly through

direct bonding with it, but the reptiles have to experience truth indirectly. They do this through the place of no pity. But no human would want to live

there with them permanently because we are warm-blooded animals with a

warm heart. The place of no pity is, in one sense, the afterlife state that

requires the death of all attachments; for those who can’t give up their

attachments, it is the Outer Darkness. ALLIGATOR MEDICINE

Is there any good that comes out of Alligator Medicine for the individual in

the human world?

Deer Medicine gives grace, Badger and Bear Medicine

toughness. Seminole chief James Billie says in his song “Big Alligator”

(1996), Alligator Medicine gives prosperity. Jim Billie was one of my father’s students in 1955—he’s a few years

older than me. Later he became chief of the Seminole tribe and ushered in a

huge prosperity for the tribe—one of my friends estimated that they own

about 40% of downtown Miami. The opposite of the place of no pity is the land of milk and honey. I don’t know how that gift works, but the spirits

told me never to worry about money and I never have, despite being an

herbalist. I only know two Alligator Medicines: Teasel and Burdock. We can tell

by looking at the leaf—it is like alligator skin. This is true for Burdock only

in the early spring and it is not as strong as Teasel. Alligator Medicine re-

establishes the “blueprint of health” in those who have forgotten what

health feels like, psychologically or physically. The leaves of Teasel have warty or horny knobs that look like the scales

and blotches on the back of an alligator. Imagine my surprise when I looked

up Teasel in Dioscorides, the ancient Greek herbal, and found that he knew

it as “Crocodilion.” Teasel also looks kind of skeletal. Teasel

(Dipsacus sylvestris, D. fullonum)

This giant “thistle” was long supposed to be akin to the aster family, which

includes the true thistles. However, recent work on the genome has shown

that it is a member of the Honeysuckle family. Surprise!

Shock!

Crazy!

Signatures

The “thistle” on the top of the stalk looks like a comb and has been used to

“tease” the wool—straighten the fibers. The thistle top has led to the names

“Wolf’s Comb” and “Venus’s Comb.” This reminds us of the Lords of

Death, teasing the lessons out of the tangle of life experiences. This thistle looks like a tick biting into the skin, so that we are tipped off

that it is a remedy for tick-borne illnesses; it is virtually a specific for many

people with borreliosis, or Lyme disease proper. I always imagined the comb shifting through muscle fibers,

straightening them out; Teasel is a tremendous remedy for scar tissue as

well as bringing spirochetes out of the muscles and tissues into the blood

where the immune cells can kill them. If we put the plant on good soil or

care for it, it will grow to nine or ten feet in height and in this form it

reminds me of a skeleton hanging on a stand, in an old-time medical school,

looking down at me very seriously, as if to say: “What are you doing with

your life, young person?” It has a very saturnine presence. Such a boney appearance associates this plant also with the shade, death, and the

Underworld. Teasel combines well with Solomon’s Seal, which smells like

burnt bones. Teasel has prominent joints, like a Wolf Medicine. The leaves are joined

across the stem, like Boneset, so this is a bone-healing signature—the

Chinese name translates as “To Restore What is Broken.” The way the

leaves join around the stem is a kidney signature, since they hold water. It is

said in Chinese herbalism that the bones are an extrusion of the kidneys,

and Teasel (Dipsacus japonica) repairs the bones and joints by

strengthening the “kidney jing” (essence) and the “liver blood” that

nourishes the muscles. Teasel acts more deeply than the bones, per se; it

acts on the essence. That conforms to the idea of Alligator Medicine. It is

amazing how these traditions support each other. The water that collects and is exuded into the pockets by the leaves is

another signature for the “kidney essence”—the kidneys hold the primal

water. This water is slimy, like the biofilms that form when there is too

much moisture; it is likely that Teasel breaks through biofilms that reinforce

the entangled fibers. Recapitulation

Teasel is the medicine of recapitulation. On the physical level it “guards the

blueprint of life,” helping the body “remember what it was like to be

healthy.” Both Burdock and Teasel have this property and both have been

used for syphilis and Lyme disease (which destroys the blueprint).

Another

remedy that protects the blueprint is homeopathic Mercury (Mercurius

vivus).

The old alchemical works equate a Reptilian Monster with Mercury. Our genetic material needs to be ruling in our bodies in a healthy way

during life, but we have to go beyond the howling power of the genes to

discover our spiritual source material. Honeysuckle (Lonicera spp.) was Dr. Bach’s remedy for being stuck in

the past, but its cousin Teasel pulls us through the past. I know of no other

medicine that causes the body to so fully relive its body memories. Healing from Pain

Not only does Teasel help us recapitulate but it comforts us as we live or

relive the unpleasant experiences of life on Earth. When I was taking a class

with the late Margaret Colquahoun at Pishwanton, a center for Goethean studies in Scotland—near the home of Thomas the Rhymer—we did a plant

attunement with Teasel. According to tradition, the water in the “cups” that the leaves form

around the stems is supposed to aid the eyes. I put the water on my eyes and

lay down. Teasel said to me: “Your eyes have seen many terrible things”—

meaning the sights I have seen during my sojourn on Earth—“I will soothe

them so that these sights will not be so painful for you.”

I learned from this that the recapitulation can relieve us of memories

that cause suffering or pain. So the place of no pity can take away suffering

as well as bring it on. Rudolf Steiner and Dorothy Hall taught that sharp points on plants

indicate the presence of silicon—the sharpest of all the elements. This

makes silicon an “externalizing” agent that cuts away the “underbrush” (old

polymers and biofilms) to move debris to the surface. This property is

found in Teasel: it will draw or push complex splinters, shrapnel, objects,

and so forth out of the flesh when used either internally or externally. Dosage

Teasel is a powerful plant; 1–3 drops is a sufficient dose in Lyme disease,

but one can use “cowboy doses.” It causes a person to relive the symptoms

and that can be a bit forbidding.* I believe this plant would make a good

addition to many formulations where the blueprint of health needs

remembrance. Snake Ways

Snake lives inside of us as the kundalini, the magnetic power in the nervous

system that favors egotism, selfishness, and sensory addiction through the

combination of the survival and reproduction instincts of the reptilian brain

and the human frontal brain. Sometimes the reptilian brain has to interrupt

the internal dialogue of the human brain and let us know about dangers. Ironically, one of the dangers that triggers this response is seeing a snake!

The Worthy Opponent

This is a term introduced by don Juan; one among the many that this Native

genius introduced into our vocabulary through the intermediary of his apprentice, Carlos Castaneda. People who are stuck on whether don Juan

was “real” or not miss the point: the teachings are real. The traditional symbol of the Snake’s hold over us in Western

mythology is the ouroboros, or snake biting its tail. This represents the self-

consuming, contractive, limiting world we live within. It is similar to the

Wheel of Dharma symbol of Indian mythology. Until we birth our animal

self, we live under the power of the circular serpent. When we see our

animal self for the first time in dreamtime, the curse and imprisonment by

the ouroboros is broken. As the party responsible for the start of the self-conscious dimension of

human experience, Snake helped initiate the “beginning of time” and is

responsible for all the experience that has occurred from the beginning

down to the present: the good, the bad, and the ugly. The instigator must

assume responsibility. But, of course, Snake is the perfect receptacle for this

material because he is ambivalent about good and evil, pain and suffering,

truth and falsehood. By comparison, Turtle distills wisdom distilled from all

the experiences of life, from the beginning of time down to now. Pardon me

if I’d rather be friends with Turtle!

Snake is completely flexible, able to move its body in almost any

direction. This is the signature for ambivalence. Snake can adapt to any

shape, any philosophy, any truth. This makes Snake “protean,” or capable

of continual change and adaptation. Humanity and the serpent are not friends. The conscious self created by

the conjunction of the reptilian brain with the higher cortex is jealous of the

power of serpent power, which resides in the sensory organs, survival

instincts, genitals, and spine. It wants total control; it does not want to be

immersed in the senses and unconsciousness of the reptilian brain. I will put hate between you and the woman. Between your seed and

her seed. He will strike you on the head, and you will strike him on

the heel. (Genesis 3:15)

This is a perfect metaphor: humans and snakes threaten each other and

the threat is instinctual. But this also represents the fight within us: the

conflict between the conscious self and the unconscious reptilian forces of

survival, reproduction, and sensation. Blake named the two forces Urizen

(“you reason”) and Orc, the energy of life and instinct. Eventually, Orc is so beaten down by Urizen that he assumes the voice of reason and becomes

the enticing Snake itself. Christians, who think they can take anything in the Hebrew Bible and

treat it as if they understood it and it belonged to them, identify the seed of

the woman with Christ and the seed of the serpent with Satan. But the

dichotomy between the seed of the woman and the seed of the serpent is a

description of the everlasting fight between the conscious self and the

reptilian self—both of which are found in our brain. The Wheel of Dharma,

which turns endlessly, binds us to a polarized world of made-up good and

evil. The staff of Ascelpius, the caduceus—a green leafy staff with a snake

(sometimes two) intertwined up the staff—represents the kundalini or

serpent power in the central nervous system—the vehicle of consciousness

and the “Tree of Experience of Good and Evil.” This therefore is a symbol

of disease and healing—it is the staff of Asclepius and the symbol of the

medical world down to the present day. It is also a symbol of our

entrapment in the world of karma, but of our potential to be cured of this

enslavement. We hear a lot about “raising the kundalini.” This means letting the

kundalini rise from the lowest chakra (genitals) to the crown chakra

(pineal).

This brings to consciousness all significant psychoenergetic

contents encased in the body memory of the person, so that they

automatically recapitulate everything. For some people, raising the

kundalini recapitulates all information from all lifetimes, since Snake is the

storage container for all karma. For some, the confrontation with all their

addictions and complexes destroys the body or the balance of the mind. Raising the kundalini sounds very good from the standpoint of

psychological self-development, but it must be remembered that Snake is

our slave keeper and raising the kundalini does not free us from the Snake

or our exile from the Spirit World. It is a deceptive “spiritual event.” When

Snake raises the kundalini it goes up over the top of the head to the third

eye and opens the perception of the psyhic worlds, since Snake is tied to the

akashic records. With Turtle, on the other hand, the kundalini goes past the

third eye, down to the throat and actualizes the animal self, because the

throat is the boundary between the human and the animal. We can expect

this from the “main stem” of the warm-blooded animal life-wave. The teachings of Grandfather Turtle are the basis of the Grand Medicine Society

of the Anishinabe Ojibwa. Apologists for Snake usually point to the shedding of the skin as a

symbol of death and rebirth. Yes, it is—but this is the unending death and

rebirth of the human race stuck in the post-Edenic world. We die in

unconsciousness, our ego is annihilated in the afterlife process, and our

materials are mixed with those of other unconscious souls and reborn as

another unconscious human soul. This is the “Wheel of Dharma”: ongoing

meaningless lives that do not reach up out of the world to become eternal. The “shedding of skin” is just a metaphor for this meaningless peregrination

from life to death to life. At the end of the day, it looks like Snake is not good for anything, but

this is not true either. The medicine of Snake opens the “third eye” of

clairvoyant vision, including access to the library of karma and past lives. This, however, is not innately good or bad. It simply is. If we can see into

the karma and past lives of people, we can see the origins of their problems,

but we cannot necessarily see their solutions because Snake does not arise

above the Wheel of Dharma. Even this gift of Snake is ambivalent. The

sights we see in clairvoyance can also be fascinating and entrapping. The “gift” of an open “third eye” is the gift of Snake, but it is

ambivalent. It was symbolized by the serpent over the brow in the

headdresses of the Egyptian pharaohs. As in ancient Mexico, with their

shaman kings, the Egyptian pharaohs were not just temporal rulers, but

originally they were also spiritual “initiates.” Imagine having a ruler that

could see everything going on throughout the kingdom. The ultimate gift of Snake is the lesson of the Worthy Opponent: we

lazy humans need to be stimulated in order to accomplish anything on the

spiritual path, and that is the job of Snake—to oppose, hurt, trick, mislead,

mesmerize, and seduce. The American Rattlesnake is terrifying in appearance but not terrible in

aggressiveness, seldom striking “until he is first assaulted or fears himself

in danger,” as William Bartram wrote in the eighteenth century. He adds

(1955, 222):

But if you pursue and overtake him with a show of enmity, he

instantly throws himself into the spiral coil; his tail by the rapidity

of its motion appears like a vapor, making a quick tremulous sound;

his whole body swells through rage, continually rising and falling as

a bellows; his beautiful parti-colored skin becomes speckled and

rough by dilatation; his head and neck are flattened, his checks

swollen and his lips constricted, discovering his mortal fangs; his

eye red as burning coals, and his brandishing forked tongue of the

color of the hottest flame, [he] continually menaces death and

destruction, yet never strikes unless sure of his mark. The Creek are very cautious in their dealings with rattlesnakes, notes

Bartram. They would not kill them if it could at all be avoided, believing

that the spirit and relatives of the snake would cause them trouble. An

illustration of this belief still extending to the present, and its manifestation

in her family, occurs in Phyllis Light’s Southern Folk Medicine (2018, 4).

Snake Medicine

There are a lot of “Snake Medicines” all around the world: plants that

resemble a snake are usually used as snakebite antidotes. The best of these,

in my opinion, for journeying and medicine, among the North American

snake remedies, is Black Cohosh or Black Snake Root (Actaea racemosa,

Cimicifuga racemosa).

It is an old American Indian female remedy and

snakebite antidote. The long flower stalk looks like a spine or a snake,

while the black, tangled roots look like a writhing pit of snakes. Other

Snake Roots of North America include Senega (Polygala senega), Virginia

(Aristolochia serpentaria), Canada (Asarum canadensis), Kansas

(Echinacea spp.), Button or Corn Snake Root (Liatris spp.), Rattlesnake

Master (Eryngium yuccafolium), Snakeweed (Plantago major), and

Rattlesnake Plantain (Goodyeara spp.).

Black Cohosh

(Actaea racemosa)

This plant is not seductive, like some of the Snake Medicines and the

Nightshades. It possesses a real internal integrity, so it can attune one to

serpent power, the kundalini, without sacrificing integrity. It is a nerve and

spinal remedy so it interacts with kundalini. The “Black Cohosh person” is highly aware of inner dimensions of the

soul. One of my clients described herself as a “psychic/intuitive trans-

medium,” in other words, someone who picks up on other people’s feelings

and has an intuitive sense for how the hidden dimension of the soul works

through love and wisdom. The Black Cohosh person, usually a woman, is

highly aware of the depth of the soul and seeks deep relationships. For this

reason, she has deep romantic connections that are difficult to disengage

when the time comes to end them. All those psychic fibers leave a person

“tangled up in blue.” Black Cohosh helps to free that energy up and process

a person out of stagnant soul connections. It is indicated when there is

tightness in the trapezius muscles crossing the shoulder blades, amenorrhea,

and PMS with a dark, brooding state of mind. I have discussed Black

Cohosh in great depth in my earlier books. The Way of the Lizard

Lizard is the least appreciated of the reptiles. We don’t notice him much. That is part of his strategy. However, Lizard needs to bask in the sunshine

like all the reptiles, so he is susceptible to the predator—mostly raptors

flying around in the air. Even then, if the predator grasps the tail, it comes

off. Lizard boasts: “Ha ha, ya missed me!” He is therefore associated with

one of the great archetypes of human culture: Trickster. Tricksters are thin on the ground in the Hebrew and Christian Bibles,

but this is made up by folklore, which supplies many from Reynard the Fox

to Bugs Bunny. There are quite a few different Trickers, actually: Coyote,

Fox, Rabbit, Spider, Lizard, Cloud, Mist, Fog, and even Snake. The first

image in the Higher Arcana of the tarot, after the Fool, is the Magician,

Juggler, Joker, or Trickster. He trumps all the regular cards but is trumped

himself by all the other Higher Arcana. We all want to invest in the Bugs

Bunny Hedge Fund and International Bank sometime or other: In Wabbit

We Twust. The first lesson of the Trickster is that we should not take ourselves too

seriously. We should be able to laugh at ourselves and our foibles. Whenever I got too serious, Arlo would always start making jokes. The

second lesson of the Trickster is also that we are susceptible to being

tricked. And rather than being angry—taking ourselves too seriously—we should laugh at our foibles. The third lesson is that we need to develop our

own bag of strategies and tricks, so that we can escape dangers that arise

here and there on the path of life. In this regard, Trickster is innately

connected to the spiritual warrior, who is always looking for strategy. For

this reason, Lizard Medicine is connected to Eagle Medicine—connected to

its own predator, the raptor. Warriorship is connected with the reptilian

brain because war is based on survival skills. In spiritual war, we transfer

our attention to a higher goal: we are searching for spiritual enlightenment. This is why spiritual warriorship is associated with the Eagle. Different tricksters have different functions. They can relate to the big

ego (Coyote); the insecure ego (Rabbit); the survivor ego (Rabbit); the

cunning mind (Fox); the cunning, secretive mind (Raven, Crow); the

cunning and ambivalent mind (Snake); mental connectedness (Spider); the

passive delusions of the mind (Cloud, Fog, Mist, Smoke); the trickster

(Lizard); and the active delusion spreader or user of delusion (Skunk).

Trickster helps us to laugh at the fallibility of human nature and

ourselves, but as a medicine power he might only get the job half done, then

walk away. A medicine man in Northern California who counted Lizard as

one of his animal helpers told Jaime de Angulo (1950, 341): “Jim Lizard, he

sit on rock all day, he pretty clever but not serious....

Mebbe he stay and

help and mebbe he tell me lie. I can’t depend on him.”

Some tricksters personify characters who survive by their wits when

their society has been completely broken down. A trickster can have no

integrity at all. He just survives. Trickster is ultimately out for himself, like

Bugs Bunny, Reynard the Fox, or the Wizard of Oz. The alienation,

inventiveness, ruthlessness, dishonesty, craziness, and desperateness of the

trickster mean he or she is close to the spirit, even if the effect on others is

destructive. Trickster can have a lack of integrity and sometimes they have

no ultimate purpose other than survival, greed, or selfishness. Even then,

Trickster has the protection of the spirit, just as the evil witches do. For a

while. The most dangerous of all tricksters is Snake. This is because he is not

only cunning but ambivalent. Snake doesn’t care how much damage,

suffering, or destruction is inflicted. Snake traps us in delusion and the

Wheel of Dharma. And he or she or it is able to do all this with such

dexterity and sublimity that people can’t even see the deception and

suffering they are walking into. But destruction can be constructive. That’s the chance somebody took when they let Snake/Dragon loose in the Garden

of Eden. The Contrary

The contrary is like a trickster except that there is a purpose in their

strategy: he or she has a goal other than mere survival. The contrary breaks

the agreements and taboos of society for some higher goal or strategic

outcome. This entails living a life opposite social convention. Like all

medicine powers, this is something that can’t be controlled. It is like a drive

that the person can’t deny. Here is an example of a contrary from the history of the British Isles. It

is particularly interesting because the great seer and spiritual voyageur

Thomas the Rhymer was involved in the events. The Scottish succession in the thirteenth century had become

a tangle of conflicting claims. This allowed the English to take

over. Thomas the Rhymer himself prophesied, after the rebel

William Wallace survived torture and an unsuccessful

“execution,” that Scotland would be plunged into fifty years of

war. When Wallace did finally die, Robert the Bruce took over

the fight. The first thing he did was kill the only other Scots

heir to the throne on the steps of a church. As every

Scotsman knew, that was sacred ground, a taboo not to be

broken. Bruce had chased him onto the steps, where he

thought he was safe. The Pope declared Bruce a reprobate,

his lands in Scotland, England, and France were forfeited, his

family was taken hostage by the English army, and his

soldiers were banned from receiving food or shelter from the

hand of a Christian. In a rebellion that lasted decades, Bruce

slowly strengthened his hand and eventually he defeated the

English at Bannockburn and was acknowledged as the rightful

King of Scotland. To make peace with the Pope, King Robert fought as a

Crusader against the Moor in Spain. By this time he was a

sick old man. When his troops wavered in battle he said to his

standard-bearer, the Black Douglas: “Cut off my head and

throw it forward: the men will follow.” Robert the Bruce won

his last battle. The story of Robert the Bruce tells us that the contrary can have a

higher vision but that it can hurt a lot of people. Many of the greatest

military and political leaders are contraries that “history cannot control.”

Examples would include Alexander the Great, Napoleon, and Frederick the

Great. The story of Thomas the Rhymer connected with this event is worth

reporting. “True Thomas” was a patriot, but he was also a realist and an

empath. Therefore, he was deeply distressed when he heard that William

Wallace was still alive. His survival of torture and execution was

completely unexpected, and Thomas saw it as an omen. He demanded

verification three times: first from the servant of the woman dressing the

supposed “corpse,” then by the observation of his own servant, and finally

he went to see for himself. When he saw that Wallace survived, he was

mortified. The rest of Scotland celebrated but Thomas foresaw the social

cost of fifty years of Civil War. The trickster and the contrary are archetypal. They possess power that is

supernatural because they have received it from a source outside

conventional society. It does not matter whether their motives are good or

bad, selfish or selfless; they will be borne up by the spirit because they dare

to go beyond ordinary human social norms. Heyoka and Hi-ya-ka

In Lakota the word for a contrary is heyoka (hey-YO-ka).

These contraries

do everything the opposite of everyone else in society. Sometimes they

even walk backward. They can’t function as ordinary people. Sometimes

they function as clowns at social events, imitating white people or acting in

other bizarre fashions. They can’t help themselves: they are possessed by

contrary medicine. Another definition I heard was that they were the

juvenile delinquents who couldn’t fit into society, so the Indian People

made a separate society for them. My definition is that they “laugh at

death” and “frown at life.”

A few years ago a man taking classes on herbal medicine from my

friend Paul Red Elk noted that there was a technique used by the Marines—

he was a retired career Marine—when there was no logical way out of a situation. It was to act in an illogical way and it was called “HI-ya-ka.”

Now he understood where the word came from. Sondra, who served with

the Special Forces, commented: “Yes, we were taught to use this strategy in

extreme circumstances but we called it ‘distraction.’”

TRICKSTER MEDICINE

Some plants can be tricksters. A good example is Poison Ivy: it looks like

other plants so that it can blend in among the surrounding vines and leaves. It grows on ground that has been trampled down—Nature’s way of saying:

“Don’t go there or I’ll set up an inflammation.” So it is the remedy for

overuse. Poison Ivy

(Rhus toxicodendron)

This is the homeopathic remedy for overuse of joints and connective tissue. The part is stiff and sore until limbered up. The pain is not generally sharp. In one of the funnier cases, my boss came into the herb store and

wondered if I knew of a remedy for a rash on his scrotum. It wasn’t an

STD. I knew he had just started a relationship with a new girlfriend who

was sexually very, very intense and I figured: overuse of the part. Rhus tox. cleared it up in a few days. The relationship was good, too—it lasted a few

years. I had a client who was a businessman but was terribly bored with his

job. He too had a rash on his scrotum. He had been happily married for

quite a few years, so I figured this was something like trampling down of

the imagination from a boring job rather than “overuse of the part.” Rhus

tox. cured it shortly; he went back to college, got a Ph. D. in business, and

became a professor in business school. He was happy. A middle-aged woman had been coming to the herb store for several

years for minor complaints. This time she came in and complained loudly

about how bored she was with her job and how much her hip joint hurt. I

asked what her job was. “I work in the interoffice mail, delivering mail

between two buildings the offices are located in.” Wow!

I couldn’t believe

it: the perfect Gemini job, delivering messages between two buildings!

I was ready to quit being an herbalist right then and there but instead I gave

her Rhus tox. and it cleared up the joint pain and the boredom. When you’re

bored you need a trickster. I use the low potencies of 6x, 12x, and 30x. As an antidote to Poison Ivy

or Poison Oak, I recommend tinctures of Comptonia, Grindelia, Boston Ivy,

and Plantain. LIZARD MEDICINE

This is not a subject I know a lot about from experience, so I am only going

to touch upon it lightly. There is a small family of plants called the

Saururaceae or Lizard’s Tail family. There is one representative in

Southeastern North America (Saururus cernuus) and one in the Southwest

(Anemopsis californica).

Others are native to Southeast Asia; one of them is

Houttynia cordata, the famous “Chameleon Plant” of Chinese herbalism. The Lizard’s Tail of the Southeastern United States has a bit of use in folk

medicine as a calmative. This caused it to be named “Yerba Mansa” by the

Spanish of Old Florida: the word mansa means “tamed” in Spanish. It

tames the mind and emotions; a skill needed by the warrior. When the Spanish arrived in California, some botanist or herbalist

among the early invaders recognized Anemopsis as a cousin and transferred

the name Yerba Mansa to this plant. Ironically, it has the opposite effect: to

rouse a person from lethargy of tissue or attitude, rather than to relax. Houttuynia seems to live up to its animal association: it is for

mischievous diseases that are hard to get a handle on. It is an antiviral; used

by some in covid. It looks to me that if one used all three of these plants, one would have

an excellent command of Lizard Medicine: to calm, rouse, and outsmart. Since I have not used these herbs, except for Yerba Mansa, I am not going

to elaborate on them. The Way of the Turtle

My friend kept on badgering me that evening, saying I had to go visit a

certain medicine man to get a naming ceremony. When I finally said yes,

rather indifferently, I immediately felt a sensation like a tube breaking in my throat: Thunk!

From that moment on, a medicine man poured into my

consciousness. He was smoking his pipe and the smoke went all through

me. He studied me and knew me. Several nights later, I had the dreams

about Wolf Person and the automatons. Finally, I wrote him a letter (this

was before the internet) and asked if I could visit. I didn’t receive an answer

but I brought a food plate and gifts and tobacco and set out. After I had made my decision to go, I saw in my mind’s eye a little

turtle sitting at the bottom of my scrotum, facing outward, but lifeless as a

stone. As I headed out of the Twin Cities, I saw it alive now, climbing up

my spine—it was at the bottom of the thoracic vertebra. It was after dark when I reached my parent’s cabin on the Snake River,

in central Minnesota, halfway to my destination. The river has that name

because it was the old boundary between the Anishinabe Ojibwa in the

forested north and their enemies (“snakes”), the Dakota, in the savannah to

the south. The cabin was newly purchased; I had never been there before and I

didn’t know the layout of the land. By my headlights I found the door. Inside I found a bedroom that I figured must look out on the river. All that night I lay in a trancelike state. For hours, I saw

Grandfather Turtle sitting on a rock in the middle of the river. He had a gentle smile and friendly, dark brown eyes. I knew

that those eyes were conjunct; the Living Nature and that

Grandfather Turtle knew all the wisdom that had occurred

since the beginning of time down to the present. I also knew

that his dark eyes were conjunct; the dark eyes of the Indian

people, and that the Living Nature was conjoined to their soul. The aura of the white man rips at the soul of the Indian people. “What?

You can see that?” exclaimed Arlo. Another time he told me: “Everyone I

went to grade school with is dead now. I’m the last one.” He was thirty-six. “Invader,” said my friend Percilla. In our eye contact, my soul merged with Grandfather Turtle

and we were one. Little Turtle had passed up my spine, to the

top of my head, and over, to my brow and eyes. I had eye

contact with Grandfather Turtle. Hours passed. Just before

dawn, my eyes finally moved away from Grandfather Turtle,

across the river. On the forest floor beneath the woods on the

other side, I saw a faint path, barely visible. The leaves of

many summers covered the trail, so it looked like nobody had

taken it for a long time. A voice said, “That’s the Old, Old Path

that few take anymore.”

As the sun broke through the woods in the morning, the trance drew to a

close and I could see out the window. The river was set back further from

the cabin than it was in the vision. Instead of a stone in the river, where

Grandfather Turtle had been, there was a stump. It was another fifteen feet

to the river’s edge. I went out to investigate, and on the stump I found a

turtle shell. I still have that shell. As I drove away, I had one more vision:

I saw Grandfather Turtle sitting on the earth. Suddenly, he

flipped up, like a door on a hinge, and I saw that he was a

doorway to the Underworld and that I had access. After a

moment a slavering wolf came up to the doorway from below

to make sure that the unworthy did not enter. He didn’t go one

iota beyond the doorway. Suddenly, the Underworld became a

real place for me. I knew the process that began with the little

stone turtle was complete. Later a friend pointed out that the “tube” in the throat was called the

“Way of the Turtle” in the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali. Very appropriately, she

was a descendent of Ma-Gish-Gee-Bo, the Anishinabe chief that had been

forced to sell the pineries in central Minnesota. I was informed by another Native teacher that the channel in the throat

is one of the four points the Ojibwa anoint with sacred oil when the baby is

born, to protect it against outside interference. Since we can’t share the

name of the oil or how to make it, we can try Sunflower seed oil instead to

annoint our own points, even as adults, in this treacherous world. Turtle marks the boundary between the human (in the head) and the

animal (in the body).

That is why, when the Place of the Turtle breaks open,

the animal consciousness flows into the human and we meet our long-lost

ally, the animal self, and become conscious in the Spirit World. Whereas Snake raises the kundalini to the third eye and opens the

psychic vision, Turtle brings the energy down from the crown of the head,

past the third eye, to the point on the neck, the Way of the Turtle, where the

human self (head) meets the animal self (body).

It therefore actualizes and

brings to consciousness the animal self. It is, anyway, the ancestor of all the

warm-blooded animals. What Snake does only empowers the human self

because it does not connect to the Way of the Turtle, but only opens up the

mind’s eye. My friend Jolie had an experience of Grandmother Turtle:

In my dream I saw a beautiful big brown-green tortoise. I had

to slow down to make eye contact with it. Then I had to slow

down even more, and then even more. I felt my whole being

slow down to a completely relaxed, altered state and I was

able to meet the grounded, slow, wise, patient turtle and lock

eyes with her. She transmitted the felt sense how it is to relax

and at the same time have slow but steady purpose and

dedication. It was the slow wisdom of the elders that is the

opposite energy of a puppy, chasing her tail. Slow and steady,

efficient, without a calorie wasted on nonsense. Our eyes

locked, we merged, and I felt her and she felt me. Then she

bowed down to honor me. At the same time that I was connected to the tortoise, I

saw some animals passing behind me out of the corner of my

eye. At first, I thought they were dogs. When I left the tortoise,

I looked toward where all the dogs were headed and realized

they were wolves. There was a circle of about twelve wolves

all neatly arranged like divisions on a clock with all their heads

facing in and tails facing out. I felt like the pack was building

and sharing wisdom; plotting, working together. One of the characteristics of Turtle is the number thirteen. There are

thirteen big scales on the back of a turtle shell. Twelve is the number of

solar months, while thirteen is the number of lunar months. Wolf howls at

the Moon, to call—as I have said—the human race back to their brothers

and sisters in the Land of the Animals. Jolie is now an accepted citizen of

that world. Star Woman marked all the star essences on the back of Elder Turtle. Both the solar and lunar year are pictured there. I have never seen a turtle

that didn’t have thirteen scales, except for the scaleless sand turtle. While

the thirteen large scales represent the lunar calendar, the more numerous

small scales around the perimeter represent the solar calendar. The whole

thing is a circle with four basic directions represented by the four feet. The

head and tail represent the direction of time—birth and death—and the

doorways in and out of life within the mundane shell. Turtle can adjust his internal temperature somewhat. By pressing

against his shell he can extrude water to warm up, while by jumping back in

the pond he can pick it back up and cool off. Therefore, Turtle is the “most

evolved” of the reptilian life-wave. Evolutionary biologists say that he is

the “main stem” from which the warm-blooded animals arose. For this

reason, Turtle is seen as the foundation upon which the Earth rests, or again,

from which the Tree of Life arises. I like to believe that my friend Turtle

sits on the boundary line to the Inner Court and the Outer and touches upon

Paradise. Turtle is the representative of the path of Wisdom: both that which is

gained by living and examining life, and that which is embedded in the

Living Nature—the Wisdom of Nature. As for me, the Wisdom of the Turtle

would be enough to give me satisfaction on the spiritual path but it also led

me to understandings of these other mysteries of the Outer Court. Thank

you, Grandfather Turtle. The Old, Old Path

When Star Woman descended to the Earth, she set her foot on the back of

Original Turtle, upon whom the earth was gathering. The stars of the

heavens were imprinted upon the emergent rocks, plants, and animals, so

that each one had an essence that guided their formation and manifestation

in the world. First Turtle was present at the beginning of creation, the

beginning of time and space, but instead of simply preserving a record of

everything that has transpired in our creation, Turtle reduces all that

experience to Wisdom. So in some ways, lowly Turtle is not the least of the

medicine animals, but perhaps the greatest. Turtle leads us back to the knowledge of Star Woman. This is the Old,

Old Path. In the Old World, where Star Woman is known as Sophia, knowledge of the archetypal markings inscribed upon creation is called the

Natura Sophia, or Wisdom of Nature. This term was originated by Jacob

Boehme. The “light” of wisdom that shines forth from within the creation,

through their signatures and marks, was called the lumen naturae, or Light

of Nature by Paracelsus. The English word “verity” is narrowly defined as “eternal truth,” but it

infers the contentment found in the contemplation of eternal truths or first

principles, also the life of the imagination and creativity, which further

hearkens to eternal beauty. Each star essence that appears to us through the

looking glass of the intuitive mind is a verity, so Star Woman is eternally

true and beautiful and the source of contentment. Who would not want to

partake of this vision, this wisdom?

The “Old, Old Path” is the original path to the Spirit World implicit in

Nature. Making the shift from the exiled world we live in to the Spirit

World, through the actualization of the animal self, is easier when we have

knowledge of the archetypes and the Green Tongue; they help us to think in

the parallels, parables, analogies, and archetypes necessary for us to be able

to recognize and articulate the discovery of the Far Distant Shore of the

Spirit World. The Old, Old Path leads to the door, but is not actually capable

of bringing us across the threshold. That is the prerogative of the spirit. On the Old, Old Path of Original Turtle, we see that Earth Wisdom is

built into the creation, for every stone and mountain, plant and animal, is a

personification of a verity that emanated from the supernal archetypes in the

Spirit World. The wisdom shines forth through the signatures marked on all

creatures. It is a spiritual wisdom innate to that world. It is a slow path, like

Grandfather Turtle himself. If we follow that path, we will draw right up to

the door of the spirit, the boundary between the human and the animal. This

point is the culmination of the Way of the Turtle. TURTLE MEDICINE

I have mentioned in my books several times that the upper shell of Turtle

represents the natural world, in which we learn to appreciate the outer world

of Mother Nature, while the underside represents the hidden side of the

natural world, in which we see the signatures of creation. The living body

of the turtle within the shell represents the Living Nature within the shell of the material world. On the mundane level, Turtle Medicine helps to balance

water and solid, and has a natural affinity to the kidneys and bones. Gravel Root

(Eupatorium purpureum, Eutrochium purpureum)

This plant grows on the edge of the water and the upland, so it balances

water and solids. That, obviously, makes it a kidney medicine. But it

balances throughout the body. Through clinical experience I have come to

the conclusion that Gravel Root opens the capillary bed to release water

into the extracellular matrix. This is why it can bring movement to a frozen

shoulder or joint. This is also how it keeps the peritoneum clean when there

is pus from colitis or Crohn’s disease or typhus (in the old days) in the

abdominal area. It was a major remedy for sepsis in the nineteenth century. By opening the capillary bed for the blood plasma to flow into the renal

tubules, it becomes a powerful diuretic. It almost certainly has a direct

influence on glomerular filtration and it has been used for water retention. It

also washes out excess calcium depositions and kidney stones. We (my

friends and I) have confirmed the old folk-medical uses for “gravel”:

stiffness from calcification in the muscles, and regrowth of damaged bone. When I discussed this with Tsalagi medicine woman Sondra Boyd, she

added an additional insight: it not only opens the capillary bed to discharge

serum in the matrix, it also opens the tight junctions or pores in the

lymphatic capillaries to drain the matrix. It operates at both the inlets and

the outlets of the great Mother Ocean of the extracellular matrix. Now we

can see another reason why Gravel Root “hates pus.” It cleans out the

matrix, removing waste material. This ought to make it a good liver remedy

as well, because 25–50% of the lymph plasma originates in the “space of

Disse” (the extracellular matrix of the liver).

The ability to balance water and solid not only reminds us of the turtle

as a land and water animal, but also of its ability to adjust the water it

“carries” on its back by pressing itself against its shell to remove water. Gravel Root squeezes in and out. This plant is also known as Joe Pye Weed because, according to the

botanist Amos Eaton, the Indian medicine man of that name gave it to

Zachariah Moore, the president of Williams College, in western Massachusetts. Williams was connected to the Stockbridge Reservation in

western Massachusetts through shared clergymen. Joe Pye was an important

leader there in the middle of the eighteenth century and a medicine man

who studied under the Rev. Samuel Occom, an older Stockbridge minister,

chief, and medicine man. There are still members of the Occom and Pye

families on the Stockbridge Reservation—which is now in Wisconsin. In

the late 1780s, the Stockbridge Indians were driven by greedy settlers from

Massachusetts to upstate New York, and on to Wisconsin, where they reside

today. It is possible “Joe Pye’s Weed” (as some of the accounts read) was

given to Moore by a successor to his knowledge. A serious lifelong problem for Susan has been Crohn’s disease. Bob, the

owner of Present Moment Herbs and Books, where I worked at the time,

stopped it completely for ten years with Calamus rhizome, but it didn’t

work after ten years. The gastroenterologist said, “You have two or three

weeks to get a handle on this with prednisone to suppress autoimmune

disease. If not, you’re going to have a full colostomy, with a colostomy

bag.” After three days on prednisone, Susan said, “I can’t take this stuff, it

eats my soul.”

Solution: Go on a camping trip with your dog. The dog got into a

ground wasp nest and Susan got bit sixteen times getting him out. “The

funny thing was, I didn’t have an allergic reaction, like I usually do. Sixteen

bites should’ve killed me.” I laughed once again at Susan’s ability to

survive near-death. “That’s because you still had the prednisone in your

system.”

Back at home, Susan reached a conclusion: “If God can’t save me, I’m

ready to die.” She was at the end of her rope. She couldn’t take the

prednisone and she couldn’t take another operation—last time, her wounds

were open and needed dressing for six months because of the inflammation

from the autoimmune disease. We talked on the phone. After I hung up (a good time to watch for

magical thoughts), an herb popped into my mind. I remembered another

case of Crohn’s disease halted by Gravel Root. So, I brought her some of

the roots from the herb store and told her to just munch on little bits every

day. When she was a little better, we visited a small swamp near my house

where the Gravel Root grew. Actually, that root had mineralized crystals on

it that prevented consumption—but it is important to get to know a plant

when your life depends on it. Slowly, Susan got better. The Crohn’s never grew again until twenty years later, when she went

through a period of stress. We have X-ray proof that it didn’t expand in all

those years. That’s not just because of the Gravel Root but because Susan

changed. She’s had a whole life since then. Married, new family members,

farm. Susan put her life on the line when she put the health of her soul and

spirit above life itself. A few years later, Susan was at the hospital after being bucked off a

horse. The doctor asked, “What happened here with this Crohn’s disease,

where the medical record just ends?” “Oh, I took herbs,” she answered. They didn’t want to hear any more of the story because biomedicine is a

routine (not a “science”) and if anything lies outside the routine, it is terra

incognito. It took eighteen months for Susan to pull out of that deep pit of

inflammation and weakness when she defied the gastroenterologist and the

prednisone. She needed Gravel Root and spiritual healing in the sweat

lodge with medicine men. One of them said: “Keep taking what the doctor

is giving you.” He didn’t know that the “doctor” was an herbalist!

Susan had a low fever that consumes strength. That’s the kind of fever

for which this plant was originally used by Joe Pye. It is for Crohn’s

because it is like an autoimmune version of typhoid. It’s mostly used as a

kidney medicine however—hence the name Gravel Root. Goldenrod

(Solidago canadensis, S. virga-aurea, S. spp.)

This is another member of the aster family. It has a bitter, pungent, savory

taste, like Gravel Root, and it also acts on the kidneys. It is an upland plant

and its Turtle Medicine signature is different from Gravel Root: the leaves

appear early in the spring, it grows slowly through the whole summer and

finally flowers in late summer. So, it advances slowly, like a turtle, and in

fact herbalist Lise Wolff has found that it is good for slow growth and

retarded bone growth in children. One of my Native teachers pointed out that in the fall the roots suddenly

thicken out into a bunch, as if it were saving its strength through winter, for

the next year. So it is also a stamina remedy, and it is especially a remedy for people who feel like they are too tired to make it to the goal, to fulfill

the vision, to get to the finish line. I taught Lise Wolff about this when she was first learning herbal

medicine with me—she’s been a professional for decades now—and she

and I have flushed out the picture of Goldenrod pretty well. I described this

plant (and Gravel Root) in The Book of Herbal Wisdom (1997, 269–81), so

there are details there I have left out here. The Goldenrod person feels the goal in the distance is too far away, or is

so tired they can’t see the goal anymore. The feet are tired, the lower back

and maybe the kidneys too (urine dark and scanty, copious and stinky, etc.).

The motto is: “Where’s the nearest chair?”

Lise found that it is for slow growth in children; it “pops them up.” It

can thicken the bones. In Chinese medicine the kidneys store the “jing” or

essence, which is in charge of unfolding the blueprint of life, and they are in

charge of the development and health of the bones. “Jing deficiency” is

marked by developmental sluggishness, slow closure of the fontanelles,

teeth problems, “drops out the baby teeth” says Lise, a thin frame, lack of

tenacity and stamina. She’s found that it can sometimes stop miscarriages. One woman she helped said: “I always thought I could never have a baby,

could never make it to the end.” Goldenrod acts on the male reproductive

system too: a Canberra herbalist taught me that it can reduce

prostateinflammation. Our dear friend, the late William LeSassier, used it to thicken the

mucosal layer of the digestive tract; it also strengthens the respiratory tract. I use it when the viral infection is drawing to a close and, just as the person

thinks they are getting better, bacteria set in—the discharge gets yellow and

thick. The kidneys are too overburdened to remove the protein debris from

the dead cells. William used the leaf as a stomach bitter to increase

secretion in the stomach—Gravel Root can be used the same way. Lady’s Mantle

(Alchemilla vulgaris)

This member of the Rose family is native to the low mountains of Europe,

easily cultivated, and long used in European folk medicine—less so by

professional doctors. I don’t think it would have much of a profile today if it were not for the treatment afforded by Maria Treben in Health through

God’s Pharmacy (1980, 29–30).

It came as a great surprise to me that Turtle claimed Lady’s Mantle as

one of his medicines. The roots look like cat’s feet so she has been known

as Lion’s Foot. She acts on the heart muscle, according to Maria Treben—I

have confirmed this a couple of times. The heart fits the profile for a Lion

Medicine as well as a Sun Medicine. However, Turtle told me Lady’s

Mantle was one of his medicines and indeed, she shows that characteristic

liquid/solid balance of the Turtle Medicines. The leaves extrude fluid and

collect dew so that there are little droplets with the defined edges that is

characteristic of water organized by living tissue (H O+/H O −, as 3 2 2

compared to H O).

These droplets remain in the folds of the leaves until 2

vaporized by the heat of the sun later in the day. The alchemists gathered

this water—thus the name Alchemilla—and Dr. Bach also sought the

special powers of dew in his preparations made in dew and sunlight. We do

see a connection with Sun Medicine in this water, which can only be made

by exposure to sunlight—see Gerald Pollack’s research on the properties of

“living water” (Pollack 2013).

It was during Omicron and I’d been sick off and on in 2022.

It would

attack and close the top of my head, isolating me from the “spirit star.” This

felt quite awful—no creativity, no heart, no spirit, no good dreams. Turtle

showed his protective shell was all around me while he was merging more

deeply with Earth for my protection. On the third day, I was shown Lady’s

Mantle in my mind’s eye and understood that she would carry on the

protection for Turtle. Up to this experience, I had been calling our friend Lady’s Mantle

“Female Protection Medicine” because she is a woman’s remedy and

protects women who are subject to abuse or violence—see my write-up in

The Book of Herbal Wisdom (1997, 113–24).

That’s a property that

incarnates the name “Lady’s Mantle.” Now I understood that the protection

extended to negative psychospiritual influences that had nothing to do with

one sex or the other. I would say, however, that Lady’s Mantle connects

with the Goddess—one of them, but I’m not sure which: Mother Nature or

the Queen of the Faeries or who?

Lady’s Mantle was originally used for cuts and wounds, which have an

analogy to assaults on the psychic periphery of the body. It is particularly

good for rips and tears. In recent centuries it came to be associated with female conditions including vaginal injuries, torn abdominal muscles

postpartum, and restoring the tone of the breasts after lactation. It has a

specific affinity for tissue in sheets: some muscles, mucosa, skin. Treben

used it for hernias and to strengthen the atria of the heart. When I told Susan about this, she suggested that I combine Lady’s

Mantle and true Solomon’s Seal “because they like to grow together.” And

indeed, the former protected the outside, while the latter soothed the

mucosa and respiratory tract. Nature Speaks

After Susan recovered from the ulceration of her colon, she held a uwipi, a

sweat lodge, to thank all the people that had helped her. I was there. Deep in

the ceremony, when my time came to talk, I thanked Gravel Root. Almost

immediately, the plant spoke to me as clear as day:

You can tell I’m a Turtle Medicine because, just as

Grandfather Turtle rose up out of the sea in the beginning of

time to create the first earth, so too do I rise up out of the

swamp to create the first soil. That’s the way it is with silent knowledge. The communication comes to

us in very exact words. The words are usually arranged in such a way that

they strike the inner mind as “perfect” in their brevity, sincerity, and

meaning. The Speech of Nature does not make an assertion, but paints a

picture, a parable. It does not demand belief: we can believe or not. *See the accounts in my The Book of Herbal Wisdom (1997, 233–41) and the chapter on Teasel in Wolf-Dieter Storl’s Healing Lyme Disease Naturally (2010, 163–82).

7

The Animal Self

Even a man who is pure in heart

And says his prayers by night

May become a wolf when the wolf-bane blooms

And the autumn moon is bright. CURT SIODMAK, THE WOLF MAN

Scholars now knew that the “Hidden Lord” hieroglyph

did not stand for normal sleep states. Instead, it carried

the sense of a menacing, subterranean consciousness....

The symbol of the jaguar that is hidden within the person

of the shaman king could now be read with sobering

clarity. It was the verb “to sleep,” “to dream,” and “to

transform into an animal spirit by enchantment.” It was

also the noun “shaman,” “sorcerer,” and “animal

companion.”

DOUGLAS GILLETTE, THE SHAMAN’S SECRET

Don Juan once said to Carlos that one struggles for a lifetime and the

reward is a moment of clarity that will guide one for the rest of one’s life. I

used to think: Geez, what a waste of effort—there must be more to it than

that. I thought enlightenment was a permanent state of consciousness. The shamanic model turned out not to be equivalent to my stereotype of

enlightenment. It has more in common with fundamentalist Christianity,

which claims that a single realization brings lifelong change. For the shaman, the revelation of the animal self answers the great

questions of existence, establishes personal wholeness, makes one an

authentic human being, and ignites the senses on the spiritual plane. It does

not happen twice. There will still be dramatic reckonings and lessons to be

experienced on the shamanic path—Wolves, Dragons, and faeries may talk

to us—but there is only the one watershed moment. The Actualization of the Animal Self

This event is so crucial in the shamanic experience—it is the defining

experience of shamanism—that I feel obligated to describe it in detail

referring to my own experience and that of my close friend, Susan. Here is

the transformative dream I had at age thirty-one, initiated in me by a visit to

an Anishinabe Ojibwa medicine man in northern Minnesota: This is the

central pivot of the entire book. The actualization that alters us permanently

and deeply. Here is my experience from deep in dreamtime. I was in the underworld. I was looking at the Lord of the

Underworld; his face was just a darkness. He pointed toward

my right and said: “I want you to meet one of my Captains.” I

followed his outstretched arm and saw the Big, Bad Wolf, half-

animal and half-man, standing upright, leaning on an inner

city lamppost. He was illuminated by a circle of light shining

down from the streetlight. He had the head of a wolf, his arms

were folded over his chest, and he was standing on two wolf

feet. He had on an old dark blue sweater. He was smirking

and I heard him chuckle “Heh, heh, heh,” as if to say: “What

do have we here?” He exuded a predatory aura. While I was still looking at Wolf Person, the Lord of the

Underworld spoke: “And now we are going to make a psychic

link between you and the Wolf Person.”

That jolted me into survival mode. “Wait, wait, WAIT a

second!” I called out as I started to wake up. “I’ve studied

occultism and shamanism for years, but I don’t want a familiar

spirit in the Underworld. That’s, that’s ...

going too far!” A part

of me was shocked and terrified while another part was

making a simple, unruffled observation: Wolf Person is the

one who dares to go too far. I had done that. I was

experiencing the results of explorations of consciousness. I

had always admired and loved the wolf—now I was one. The scene disappeared and my awareness shifted as I

was waking up to a more superficial level of consciousness. I

felt a bandlike sensation around my head. The band turned

into a snake biting its tail: the mouth was clamped on the end

of the tail over my “third eye.” Then the mouth opened, and

the snake flopped out the back of my head. I woke up with a

lurch and a shudder, desperately looking for a snake in my

bed. A feeling came over me: I am freed of an ancient curse

upon the human race. One thing that is absolutely characteristic of the animal self is that it is a

wild animal and we are domesticated beings, so that when we experience

our animal self, it is quite threatening. To contact the animal self, we must

return to the wilderness within. Some have called it the “wild self.”

The terror one feels in this experience is twofold: the encounter with the

wild, undomesticated animal self and the first meeting with the completely

alien spirit being that has no earthly genetics or reference points. The latter

is more terrifying because the Lord of the Underworld and his realm belong

to the inorganic beings (remember, he is the spouse of the Queen of the

Faeries).

They are the lords of dreamtime and in that world have the power

to trap us. It feels like they can make us cease to exist because they are

merged with the realm of the uncreated. In other words, it can obliterate the

primal atom of individuality, the atma of individual existence. After we

meet them, these beings take after us like the proverbial demons out of hell

because they are attracted to the juicy realm of the soul as much as we are

—we who need to have feelings all the time to be human. Castaneda talks

often about the terror inspired by the inorganic beings in the latter books in

his series. Notice that in my dream the Lord of the Underworld, who we refer to as

the “Keeper of the Animals,” didn’t use the word “animal” but referred to his Captain as the “Wolf Person.” He found the distinction between humans

and animals artificial, distasteful, and inaccurate. In our language, the

distinction is fairly recent. The Greeks did not have a word for this

difference until a generation before Socrates. We were often known in

ancient times simply as the “talking animal.”

Jaime de Angulo was conversing with one of his Indian friends in

Northern California. He was trying to get Bill to differentiate between

animals and people. They were talking about the Creation Story. The

anthropologist understood his friend to mean there were animals in the

world, but no people had appeared yet. Bill vehemently disagreed. “Whad’you mean there were no people?

Ain’t animals people?”

“Yes, they are ...

but ...”

“They are not Indians, but they are people, they are alive ...

Whad’you mean, animal?”

“Well ...

how do you say ‘animal’ in Pit River?”

“...

I dunno ...”

“But suppose you wanted to say it?”

“Well ...

I guess I would say something like teeqaade-wade

toolol aakaadzi (world-over, all living) ...

I guess that means

animals, Doc.”

“I don’t see how, Bill. That means people, also. People are

living, aren’t they?”

“Sure they are!

that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Everything is living ...” (de Angulo 1950, 372)

I hadn’t read de Angulo when I had this dream so it is interesting that

the Lord of the Underworld preferred the word “person.” What did he mean

when he called Wolf Person one of his “Captains?” Wolf, Cat, and Human

are at the pinnacle of the predatory pyramid. Therefore, in a sense, they are

rulers of the animal kingdom. In the ferocious pre-Columbian Mayan

shamanism, the glyph for the Hidden Lord and the shaman who units with

him is Black Jaguar. Wolf often appears as a “Captain” of the Lord of the Underworld, just as

Dog appears as the servant of the human. Wolf is in charge of the

boundaries and not infrequently a person will meet Wolf in dreamtime

before they are ready to enter. Dog is the representation of the human world, which is domesticated, while Wolf is the representative of the

untamed wilderness and, therefore, the ferocious Underworld. The curse I felt released from was the one laid upon humanity when our

ancestors consumed the fruit in the Garden of Eden. Snake was with us

from the start and is still with us, holding us in our delusions of good and

evil until we reawaken the warm-blooded animal-self part of us that is not

under the domination of Snake. It took me twenty years to accept this—it

was “going too far” to claim such a distinction for myself. The ongoing dominion of Snake over captive humanity is represented

by the ancient symbol of the serpent biting its tail. The Greeks had a word

for this symbol, so they too had seen it: ouroboros. The actualization of the

animal self breaks the curse of involution and contraction, graphically

represented by the ouroboros. The ring around the head actually occurs when one is “losing the human

form,” to use don Juan’s expression. When the top of the head opens to

Creator above, the resistances in our mind break up and slowly move down

the body. Susan had a dream similar to mine, but she was one of those unusual

people who experience the actualization of a reptile, instead of a warm-

blooded animal. The element of terror comes out even stronger in her

dreamtime experience. She allowed me to share this with readers:

I was at a peace conference for all the species in all the

worlds in the galaxy. I was in the human booth—and let me

tell you, we are a pretty boring bunch. The King of the

Alligators was marching from the distance up to the booth. He

arrived with his retinue of Alligators following behind him. They went on for miles and miles. Thousands of them:

walking on two feet. They were fanatically loyal to him. At his

command, they would tear anyone apart in a second—and

the King looked ferocious. He stopped in front of the booth. His eyes were obsidian black. I knew he was trustworthy, but

his appearance was so terrifying all I could feel was the calm

of terror. Susan turned to me and asked, “Have you ever felt that?” Her eyes

flashed in their obsidian depths. “No, I haven’t,” I answered meekly. I thought I had to save the humans, so I said to one of them:

“Get the gun.” Instantly, I was strung up on two poles in front

of all the species of all worlds. I had committed a Big Mistake:

it was a peace conference!

They all stared at me. Eventually, I was let down from the poles. I thought, I

should give the King a peace offering. I figured rubies were

the prettiest gemstone, so I carried a ruby necklace over to

where the Alligators had set up their Court. The stones were

as big as golf balls. He didn’t really care. He said: “If you pull

a gun, you’d better use it.”

There was a Snake Woman there with her tail darting back

and forth, sticking out from under her skirt. She was

screaming, “Kill her, kill her!” Nothing was working for me. I

was missing the point of the whole thing. Finally, she

screamed “Kill the bitch!” and I woke up. Each medicine animal has a “motto,” so to speak. As Susan came out of

dreamtime, she knew the motto of Alligator was “I’ll kill you if I have to.”

It came to me a little differently; I told Susan: “You have that I-might-have-

to-kill-you look in your eyes.” She said: “Oh, I never actually killed

anybody; I just shot ’em in the legs.”

Snake Woman was actively condemning Susan, who felt she was

committing all sorts of mistakes, whereas in my dream Snake simply threw

in the towel. Susan’s experience was different because she had a long

history of feeling like she was doing things wrong. Snake was trying to

keep her imprisoned in self-judgment. The opening of Susan’s eyes in dreamtime, signified by her eye contact

with the King, meant that the curse of the Snake could no longer hold her. The blackness in the eyes of the Alligator King is like the dark face of the

Lord of the Underworld in my dream. Susan had a deep connection with horses: over the years she kept horses

and dreamed with them. She was sensitive, like a horse. Before the thought

became conscious in your own mind, she would know what it was. Susan

could travel—move her assemblage point—to the farthest ends of the

galaxy. Sensitivity and traveling are Horse traits. A few weeks after her experience, Susan went out on a date and the

poor guy had a dream that night in which she emerged out of a lake, half-woman and half-alligator. “We never went out again,” observed Susan

solemnly. “Just when you think this stuff is all a bunch of crap, it ruins your

sex life.”

When the cold-blooded animal self dominates our dreamtime, our lucid

dreaming lacks emotional context. It took Susan several more decades for

her warm-blooded animal self to become more powerful than the cold-

blooded. People with a Horse animal self travel far in dreamtime. My neighbor at Sunnyfield Herb Farm had Alligator Medicine too. Sam

lived with his mother in the guesthouse on the farm. She had a life estate. She had been an astrologer, palmist, and occultist in younger years. Sam

was raised in South Chicago. He was the only white kid in the private

school he went to. He was 6' 7" tall and had a scary look in his eyes. After

he graduated, Sam went out to Berkeley and dealt drugs until he was thirty. “I don’t know why I’m still alive,” he said one day. “Everybody else got

killed when the Colombians took over.” Twenty years later, he was in his

fifties, taking care of his elderly mother. “She used to change my diapers,

now I change hers.”

Sam only ever attended one sweat lodge in his life. However, during the

ceremony he had a vision that showed him the Crocodiles—the cherubim—

guarding the Garden of Eden. One day, out in the yard at Sunnyfield Herb

Farm, I said: “You know, Sam, you have Alligator Medicine. The motto of

the Alligator is: I might have to kill you. You have that look in your eyes.”

He slowly turned that over. “Oh,” he replied, “I’m sorry, I thought I got rid

of that a few years ago.”

When Susan first came to visit me at Sunnyfield, she noticed Sam’s

hands. They were smooth because he worked in a restaurant with animal

fats and oils. “His hands were soft but I knew those were hands that could

kill.” Sam couldn’t stop talking about hallucinogenic mushrooms with

Susan. The two Alligator People recognized each other. Sam’s vision reveals why Alligator might have to kill somebody. It is

the protector of the sacred precincts and has the responsibility for keeping

the unready and irresponsible out. The Alligators form a protective

boundary around Eden. Because they don’t dream, the reptiles don’t have

direct access to the Spirit World. In fact, they are the doorway out, as the

story of the serpent in the Tree shows us—actually, it was the father of

reptiles, Dragon. It was twenty years before Susan started to have emotions in her lucid

dreaming. This followed an outstanding ceremony in which the warm-

blooded animals blessed us and told us they would protect us. Then they felt

sorry for the human race—I guess we are in for it in the future ...

or else

they just feel sorry for us all the time. Then Creator came and there was a

direct interpolation of Divine energy into Earth. Something serious is afoot ...

A week later, Susan saw a buck just standing in her horse pasture; not

moving, fifteen feet away from her. That night I saw a buck along the road;

not moving, five feet from my truck. It was shocking. My friend Tracey was

with me: we both thought it was a statue until we turned around and drove

back up to it. Well, there are several “zombie deer” diseases, but I prefer to

believe it was a Divine interpolation into Earth reality. Castaneda’s account of his encounter with his animal self is recounted

in Journey to Ixtlan (1972, 250).

His experience occurs in “alternate

reality.” First Carlos saw a man in the distance. Then he heard a sound like

a jet plane. Then he saw a coyote walking toward him. At first, he was

afraid of the coyote: he thought it might be rabid. But when it came up

close, Carlos saw that it was calm and safe, and he had a conversation with

it and felt at ease with Coyote; but he didn’t want to approach the figure in

the distance. The next day don Juan interpreted the experience for his apprentice. Coyote is the “animal companion” that would be with Carlos for the rest of

his life. Don Juan notes that, unfortunately, Coyote is a trickster that is not

reliable. The man in the distance was the “ally” Carlos is going to have to

wrestle with in the future in order to complete his lessons. Carlos was

extremely fearful about having to fulfill that requirement. This is normal

and understandable because the spirit-beings are in fact terrifying until we

get to know them. Only when the aspirant has completed the appointment

with the ally will he become a “man of knowledge,” don Juan explains to

Carlos. The ally is equivalent to the Lord of the Underworld who appeared in

my dream. Notice that I saw him before I saw Wolf, just as Castaneda saw

the indistinct manlike being before he saw Coyote. This is because the Lord

of the Underworld is also the Keeper of the Animals. In that guise he was

the one to whom the old hunters prayed for success in the hunt. He co-rules

the Spirit World with his companion, the Queen of the Faeries. The experience of the animal spirit comes first, then the experience with the

faeries. In the later Castaneda books, the allies are described as “inorganic

beings,” or the inhabitants of dreamtime. The word “ally” reflects the

teachings of the witches and sorcerers who used the plants as allies to gain

occult powers. This is not only a lesser perspective, but the use of plants to

gain powers over other people is a corrupt practice. Don Juan had to use the

term “ally” because “inorganic being” (whatever the original Spanish) was

impossible for Castaneda to understand at first. Beyond the terror of the sudden appearance of an alien being and a

dangerous animal, we feel great love for the animal co-walker that we are

associated with. When we merge with our animal self, we realize that we

have always loved that animal. It is like we have always known it for what

it was—a part of us—and finally it has been revealed to us, to our soul—the

part of us that loves—and we love it and in that love we remain

permanently merged with it. In addition, the spirit self now has a reliable

channel to our awareness, since the animal self never lost that connection to

the Spirit World. What is the part of us that is terrified by both the animal self and the

spirit being?

It is the reptilian self. What it cares about is survival, the next

meal, reproduction. The fearful reaction to the animal self and spirit-being

shows how different the reptilian self is from them. However, each gives us

an important spiritual instrument. The reptilian self gives us our survival

instincts, which we carry with us into the Soul World and the Spirit World,

where it helps us to discern what is safe and what it not safe. It gives us our

survival instincts that eventually morph into our instinct for truth. The

reptiles are bound by the laws of creation, so they can at least be a source of

truth-knowing. Plants are also bound by the laws of creation, but they are

the source of “patterns of energy” and “patterns of chemistry” rather than

instincts. We can therefore use them to heal and transform. To use the

reptilian and vegetable life-waves for personal gain would fall beneath our

highest calling. The Automatons The newly awakened eyes of the dream self look back upon the human

world to show us that we human beings, in our unawakened state, are in an

unconscious condition with regard to the Spirit World. Shortly after my

dream of Wolf Person, I had the following dream:

I was in the Underworld. I knew there were different levels

and I was on one of them, but I didn’t know which one. It was

like a parking garage with a low ceiling, underground, with

nondescript gray-yellow walls. Human beings were walking in

all directions, like robots, like wound-up toy soldiers, blindly

marching in straight lines until they hit a wall and bounced off. I recognized one I knew in the world to be an intelligent, kind,

and sophisticated person. I grabbed his sleeve and yanked on

it, trying to wake him up ...

but he was groggy and unaware

of anything in the trans-automatonic world. Susan had the same experience in dreamtime:

You had to go down to get there. There were human beings

marching around like wind-up toys. They marched in a

straight line until they hit a wall, then bounced off in a new

direction. It was like they were asleep. I was terrified I was

going to be stuck there and woke up. Until we wake up in dreamtime, we have no true will of our own: we

only think we do. Every impulse is thwarted by our masters—Snake,

Dragon, and the human genome—who have ruled our race since the

beginning of time. This is a pretty glum assessment of the state of human

affairs. But let’s not paint too gloomy a picture: as long as we are listening

to the whisperings of the spirit, there is a force within us that can protect

from the worst monsters the galaxy can throw at us. We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto!

Toto was an animal spirit too. The Wild Self and the Human Spirit

We bear the shape of a human being, but within our human body, an animal

shines forth. This makes a person look like an animal, as well as a human, so that we say the person looks like a bear, deer, wolf, coyote, bird, hawk,

ferret, rabbit, snake, and so forth. Pugnacious Winston Churchill looked like

an English Bulldog or a Wild Boar. Josef Stalin had the predatory gleam of

the Wolf in his dark eyes. Ariel Sharon, Yasser Arafat, and Saddam Hussein

all had the big stomach and pushy personalities of Badger. Poor little King

Hussein—a graceful Deer—was stuck between them all. Unlike the mammalian genomes, the human genome is not connected to

the Spirit World. This is due to the “incident in Eden,” when our genome

rebelled against our Creator and decided to become its own God. The

animal genomes are still conjoined with their animal totems in the Spirit

World, but the human genome is not conjoined with the human spirit. The human spirit did come down to our level to reconnect with us—

that’s the whole Jesus thing, in a nutshell. It is therefore now possible to

gain access to the Spirit World through the human spirit—though the human

genome remains its own god: “Eat, drink, and procreate.” The human spirit

operates in the imagination. That’s why Jesus taught in parables or word-

pictures. On the shamanic path, on the other hand, we work through the

animal spirits, and that means we have to go through dreamtime to get to

the Spirit World. There is no conflict between the imagination and dreaming

—they are different facets of the same thing, day and night. The awakening of the animal self is our “enlightenment.” We move

from the darkness of the physical senses, which can never accurately

represent the spirit realm—except in the instance of a “rare” spiritual

intervention—to the awakened eyes and ears of our newly minted spirit

body. This is how Rudolf Steiner defines “enlightenment” (1947, 52):

The organs thus formed are spiritual eyes....

The spiritual world

with its lines and figures remains dark as long as [the student] has

only attained what has been described as preparation; through

enlightenment this world becomes light. This event is life-changing. Steiner continues (1947, 57): “After

enlightenment, under all circumstances, the union of the soul with the

spiritual world is effected.” This is a dramatic step, but not by any means

some kind of conclusion. So many of the foibles of our human self remain,

providing material for a lifetime of self-work. And so many challenges remain: dealing with the faery people, the rulers of dreamtime, the Dragons,

rulers of the material world. The reason the Christian principle of being “born again” is similar to the

shamanic is that it occurs through the human spirit, which is analogous to

the animal spirit (each being a “totem”).

However, it occurs in the

imagination and is concerned more with awakening to the ability to be a

human and getting back in alignment with Creator and the laws of the

creation as a human. It is a wise idea, if we have experienced the

actualization of our animal self, to pursue our human nature because we are

innately human, and human rule over the animal within fulfills our destiny

more completely. One of the drawbacks of the shamanic path is that the

animal self can dominate over the human. This is not the same as being

“dedicated to evil” or something like that: it is a personal choice at best, a

habit at worst. A characteristic of the shamanic path is alienation from the human

genome. This tends to arise naturally in some people since the genome is

dissociated from the Spirit World and the human spirit. This alienation

makes it harder to feel and be human. A major problem with the shamanic

path is that one has to actually try to be human, while it comes naturally to

other people. The advantage to this situation is that it causes the shaman to be more

conscious in making life choices. This situation explains the two

“techniques” that don Juan outlines for working on the spiritual path:

dreaming and stalking, or increasing awareness in dreamtime and in the

“human situation,” that is, ordinary life. One problem with the path of the human spirit, a problem we see in so

many naive Christians, is that they judge the animal self as bad. This is seen

in the long, drawn-out history of the monastic movement, which does not

have anything to do with Judaism or Jesus’ teachings. (There is no parable

that says “The kingdom of heaven is like a monk who turned his back on

the world,” or anything like that.) A widespread and deplorable doctrine

among fundamentalists is that the “heart is bad.” There is no parable about

that either. We possess both the reptilian back brain and the animal midbrain. The

reptilian back brain/self can operate as an entity independent of the

midbrain, sometimes united with it, sometimes opposed to it. It is

concerned with survival and reproduction only, and therefore with the most basic drives. The midbrain is associated more with social skills such as

bonding, parenting, relationship, and community. The bad reputation of

animals mostly comes from the reptilian side. Amphibians aren’t that concerned with survival. They just sort of exist. We kick over a dead log and find a salamander and it just sits there. We pick

up a frog and it doesn’t really look that disturbed. It doesn’t seem to

anguish, like a snake that is threatened. In comparison to amphibians and

lower orders of animals, the reptiles have noticeable survival mechanisms. They fight against death. The actualization of the animal self automatically triggers the

actualization of the reptilian self because the survival mechanisms have to

always accompany any part of us that becomes conscious—so the kundalini

rises after the fact, if not before. Even at this point, after all the work

necessary to bring the animal self to consciousness, it is still possible for

one to be dominated by the survival and reproductive instincts of the

reptilian self. Castaneda himself was a debaucher. Since the actualization of

the animal self happens virtually simultaneously, we don’t always notice the

identity of the corresponding reptilian animal companion. Strengthening the Animal Self

Animal instincts come to the surface and are communicated from the

autonomic nervous system through the solar plexus—a little nerve ganglion

below the sternum, associated with the stomach. This is where we feel our

instincts. When they are intense, we feel a “thump on the belly” or even a

burst of stomach acid, and we can even be hit with a burst of adrenaline. There are remedies that strengthen the solar plexus and we often have to

use them in ordinary herbal practice because of the importance of the

stomach and the autonomic. On a practical level, they strengthen the

stomach muscles and secretions to improve digestion. More generally, they

“help things go down.” On the shamanic level, these medicines improve the

“gut level” or “animal instincts,” so they are also important for establishing

a strong foundation for development of the animal self. The chief animals that I think of in terms of strengthening the stomach,

solar plexus, or gut-level instincts are Badger and Dog. BADGER MEDICINE

Many Badger Medicines hit a person with a punch in the stomach. Anyone

who has ever smelt or tasted Goldenseal knows what I’m talking about. Gentian hits us with a jolt due to its bitterness. Badger Medicines often

have yellow roots and strengthen the autonomic nervous system and the

muscles of the GI tract that it innervates, and they improve peristalsis or gut

movement. Yellow Dock Root is also a member of this group. It has yellow

roots that look like a little badger. Its cousin Rhubarb is another member of

this family—the root looks like a big badger. Paul Red Elk pointed out that Badger is fastidious about his food and

therefore associated with the principle of making herbal preparations—and

is also considered knowledgable about herbal properties because he lives in

Earth. Goldenseal

(Hydrastis canadensis)

Goldenseal powder, if sniffed, will cause a thump on the belly. It is a bit

shocking. Goldenseal is a cooling bitter that increases secretion from the

mucosa, especially of the stomach. It feels like it runs a current through the

mucosa, evidently prompting the internal linings to greater movement and

activity. It strengthens the autonomic but has little direct effect on the

central nervous system. Goldenseal is used for stomach ulcers and external ulcers, diabetic

ulcers, bedsores, and torpid skin and mucosa generally. The powder can be

put on herpes and shingles—but there are cheaper, more available members

of the buttercup family that can be used here. The tongue is often wide,

apathetic, with poor tone and sometimes ulcers in the tooth-marks on the

side. The yellow color is associated with the Earth in Chinese herbalism. Goldenseal does not disappoint us in carrying through on this signature. A

sixty-year-old woman had a strained neck and right shoulder—too much

work and a previous injury. Doctors said: “irreparable disk damage,”

“strained neck,” “surgery.” Their ideas didn’t even make sense to her. Her

usually reliable chiropractor made it worse. From the way she held herself,

the evaluation was clear to me: the tissues had been forced (Blue Vervain)

and she was “writhing in agony” (Prickly Ash).

When she received Goldenseal for injured disks she felt a current go through her body, her

spine straightened, and she felt “connected to the Earth.” The pain soon

abated and function returned. Later we added magnesium and

Ashwagandha powder for muscle spasm and atrophy. Pinches of the powder and drop doses are all that are needed—even a

fraction of a drop is powerful. Goldenseal is environmentally challenged

and has been for more than a hundred and fifty years, so it should be used in

moderation. Twenty years ago, a professional wildcrafter told me: “You

can’t find it within a mile of a road anywhere.” If one is using berberine, the

so-called “active ingredient” that is an antibiotic, one should not use

Goldenseal but Barberry or Oregon Grape Root. One cousin, Yellow Root

(Xanthorhiza simplicissima), has close to the same properties and the

aboveground sticks are harvested, making it environmentally safer for use. I

am not experienced with it. Gentian

(Gentiana lutea)

This bitter root is one of the central plants of traditional European medicine,

the indications for which were established centuries ago and have not been

significantly improved upon, except for the addition of mental indications

by Dr. Bach. Discovery of the medicinal properties of the plant was attributed to

Gentius, king of Illyria (modern Bosnia and Montenegro).

The officinal

species, Gentiana lutea, is found in the mountains of Europe, but

Dioscorides (ca. 70 CE) notes that it grows both on the tops of mountains

and in swamps. This indicates that he was including a lowland species as

well as the high—a flexibility that was long allowed in herbal medicine but

was eventually abandoned in favor of the mountain species. Gentian illustrates the Wolf/Dog polarity since it acts on the

gallbladder/stomach axis, especially when the stomach is weak or the

gallbladder is overbearing. The connection to angularity we note in Wolf

Medicine is seen in the placement of the leaves, which are opposite on the

stem. This is found in many of its relatives, like Fever Root (Triosteum

perforatum)—here the leaves merge together across the stalk. Gentian has yellowish roots, a signature for Badger Medicine, an analog of Dog

Medicine. Gentian is similar to Werewolf Root, but here the opposition is between

the animal self (gut-level instincts, stomach) and the ego (gallbladder),

instead of the ego and spiritual will (kidneys).

Various Kinds of Gentian

The European herbalists and physicians originally used many different

kinds of Gentian, before the yellow-flowered species became officinal. This

flexibility carried over to America. The early nineteenth-century physicians

tended to use native members of the family, such as Frasera carolinensis

(Columbo), Sabbatia (American Centaury), or Triosteum perfoliatum

(Horse Gentian, Fever Root, American Gentian).

With improvements in

herb commerce, the European Gentian came to predominate in American

practice and the cousins are now only of historical interest. All of these

plants were used by the Eastern Indian people, who also valued bitters, and

presumably by black practitioners as well. “The Great Bitter”

Yellow Gentian is an intense bitter with an affinity to the “golden arc” of

the digestive viscera strung together by the portal vein: stomach,

duodenum, gallbladder, and liver. The bitterness stimulates the salivary

glands, taste buds, appetite, hydrochloric acid, pancreatic enzyme secretion,

and bile production. This powerful action strengthens the innervations of

the “enteric brain” presiding over this region. Sir John Hill noted that

Gentian “is the great Bitter and Stomachic of the modern Practice” (1755,

159).

It is still used in European medicine as a bitter to increase digestion. It

is very reliable in this role, but stereotyping of use is not useful in

establishing its deeper and wider applications. We need to understood the

mental and emotional correspondences of the stomach-gallbladder axis,

which pits the instincts (stomach, wild self) against the egoic will

(gallbladder, gall, tame self).

This touches upon the polarity of the Dog and

the Wolf (the tame and the wild).

For some reason, although Wolf is

associated with the wild and Dog with the tamed, the medicines of the Wolf

relate to the gallbladder; those of the Dog to stomach. The intense bitterness provokes secretions from the stomach, so that

Gentian improves appetite and digestion and strengthens the gut-level instincts. By increasing secretions from the stomach and gallbladder, it also

facilitates the lubrication and movement of the stool. When the food is

sitting in the stomach or fermenting in the gut, Gentian is also often

indicated. In her unpublished notes, Dorothy Hall thought of Gentian more as a

gallbladder remedy, but in her published work she puts the emphasis on the

stomach and digestion, as it is normally portrayed in Western herbalism

(1988, 164–67).

In Chinese herbalism Gentian is also associated with the

gallbladder. It is really a remedy for both, increasing secretion from both

stomach and gallbladder, and improving the timing between the two as well

as the intensity of secretion because the gallbladder depends upon a signal

from the pyloric end of the stomach to release bile and digestive enzymes. Intermittent Chills and Fever

In the days when malaria was common, Gentian was used for intermittent

chills alternating with fever. Today these symptoms may appear with

influenza and Lyme disease and its various co-infections. Perhaps Gentian

should be considered. Alternating chills and fever wreak havoc on the

autonomic. Bitters are often suited to this problem because they cause a

“chill” or shiver to run through the involuntary nerves. Persistent chills lead

to the exhaustion of organs innervated by the autonomic—digestive tract,

liver, and gallbladder. The timing between the different structures is

damaged. Digestion

Gentian is primarily thought of as a digestive remedy in Western herbalism. In her book Dorothy Hall emphasizes that the Gentian person reacts to

emotional stress by losing their appetite. They have little appetite, and what

they have is easily lost, so, as she says, these people are “tyrannized”

throughout life by their digestion. Those seated at the same table or cooking

the meal may feel tyrannized as well (Hall 1988, 164–67).

The Portal Vein

This vein drains the golden arc of digestion and metabolism. Dorothy Hall

found Gentian to have its most prominent and deepest effects on this region,

which she calls the “yellow system” (1988, 164).

She was clued to its use

by the personality (more about that later) and the iridology. It was indicated by a swollen, twisted, dark vessel in the sclera, adjacent to the liver area,

which she interpreted as an indicator of serious portal congestion. This is

visible even to a non-iridologist, but in addition, the late herbalist Michael

Moore pointed out specific indications for portal congestion: varicosities of

the veins behind the left knee. The Portal Vein and the Heart

Congestion and enlargement in the portal vein will back up into the liver,

gall ducts, and even into the veins entering the heart. Dorothy considered

this an important remedy to prevent and reverse some kinds of heart

disease; Culpeper says it “comforts the heart” (1850, 83).

Gentian is an

established hemorrhoid, varicose vein, and portal vein medicine. Other

remedies that act on portal congestion are Stone Root (Collinsonia

canadensis) and Horse Chestnut (Aesculus hippocastanum), which are

stimulating astringents—so they have a completely different modus

operandi. Because it is for feeble blood circulation, Gentian is for bruises

(externally) and putrefaction or sepsis. The Bitter Person

In her unpublished notes for students, Dorothy Hall drew correspondences

between the portal system and the emotions. Just as the blood is congested

and blocked in the portal, these people are not able to allow their emotions

to freely flow, but block them. They might be caught in the wrong

relationship and don’t feel able to leave. This is like Werewolf Root,

another gallbladder remedy. This turns them into a bitter person, whereas

the Werewolf Root person becomes weak and can’t break out of the

domination of another. One thinks here also of Black Walnut hull: “too

much under the domination of another.” Also of Centaury, a cousin of

Gentian: the doormat who is weak-willed and allows others to dominate

them. The “Gentian person” feels deprived of the basic needs for a happy life. They relive all the bad breaks that have been meted out to them rather than

processing their emotions and going through them. They talk about a bad

event long ago, keeping it current and unresolved. Worse yet, they try to

undermine other people’s happiness with negative comments that spread

doubt. When they are opposed, rather than admitting their own problem or

trying to work through it, they stir up emotions or intentionally create anger. They frequently turn to alcohol or cigarette smoking to block their

emotions. Dr. Bach’s Indications

Dorothy Hall and myself were much influenced in our view of the Gentian

person by the account of Dr. Edward Bach’s flower essence. He used

Gentiana amarella, which is interchangeable for physical and psychological

purposes. He considered this a remedy for self-doubt: when the person is

progressing well, but there is a setback and they lose confidence; when they

suffer chronic depression from inability to cast off doubts. In another

presentation, the person asks repeatedly if the remedy is going to work, and

needs continual reassurance—even when they already feel better from it. Most irritating are the people who back off when the instinct of the healer

kicks in and we are certain about the remedy. “Oh, I was just wondering

theoretically what remedy you would give.” They are afraid of your

instincts as well as their own. Give the remedy then and there to reassure

these autonomically challenged individuals. Moxie

This is the perfect word for a person with a strong, balanced gallbladder. It

means courage, stamina, and will. A soda pop by this name is made from

Gentian root extract and is still found in New England. A piece of the root is

worn in Appalachia to increase courage and stamina. Energetics

Because of the widespread use of Gentian, the energetic indications have

been well-established from the most archaic times. In traditional European

medicine it was classified as a warming remedy for cold, phlegmatic

conditions (Culpeper 1850, 83).

However, this remedy is also useful for a

hot, dry choleric or bilious constitution, not weak but tough and strong—

often with an overbearing gallbladder. We see, therefore, that it is for two

opposite conditions. This is often found in herbs, which tend to normalize

between opposing states. Angostura Bitters

I had a client I had been helping for over fifteen years. She was now

seventy-six. For three years she had a blocked tear duct causing lack of secretion in the left eye. We tried everything. Eyebright was slightly helpful

but slowly it got worse and worse. Now her conjunctiva looked like

“chopped meat” and it hurt her terribly. The doctor said: “Lots of people

your age have symptoms like that; we can cut open the tear duct to remove

the blockage.” She didn’t like that option. Finally, she also complained:

“I’m losing weight. My boyfriend is worried. I don’t have any appetite and

I don’t even like the taste of food.” Her mouth was dry; I figured she was

drying up, as older people sometimes do. She was naturally tall, slender,

and strong—a “choleric” constitution. I recommended Gentian for the lack

of saliva and appetite. (She had Angostura Bitters in the house, which are

made from Gentian.) In the next week scum started coming out of her eye,

then secretion, then the conjunctiva improved. The heat had been baking

down the fluids and causing the blockage in the eye. Her appetite came

back and she started to gain weight. This woman had the habit of starting

out by intimidating me: telling me how she wasn’t getting better. Then she

would reverse gears and tell me what was really happening. After I got the

Gentian for her, I realized this was the overbearing side of the Gentian

personality. Anaphylactic Shock

I learned from one of my students that Gentian is an excellent remedy for

anaphylactic shock. The person turns white and feels threatened, like they

are going to die. On the way to medical help, try this and probably it will

blow over. This is a good remedy to keep on hand. I’ve had only one anaphylaxis

in thirty-five years of herbal practice: a woman turned pale and exclaimed

she was going to die after sniffing corn silk!

Gentian flower essence

immediately brought her back to earth and we continued the class. I publicized this usage and a nurse from a Waldorf School contacted me

and told me she had used it this way for years. She had the parents sign

whether they wanted the remedy to be used while the emergency-response

team was being called, or even before they were called. She had many

successful cases. I see the anaphylactic shock as a reaction that “separates soul and

body,” or the egoic will and the animal self, so this usage is a logical

extension of the other uses of Gentian. Dragon Gallbladder Root

(Gentiana scabra, G. triflora, G. manshurica, G. regescens)

This is the Chinese Gentian; it is used in a fashion similar to the European. I

doubt that they have properties that are intrinsically different. Both work on

the gallbladder/stomach axis and that means egoic will/animal instincts. Both have yellow roots. The uses of Gentian in Chinese medicine are almost identical to those of

the European officinal species, and I thought I would discuss the Chinese to

deepen our picture of Gentian. There is one major difference, however: the

Eastern plant has a better name. Maybe it is a Dragon Medicine. Damp Heat

In China, Gentian is classified as a cold and bitter remedy used to clear heat

and dampness from the liver and gallbladder, in “excess liver-fire

syndromes.” It is applicable for swelling and pain in the region of the liver,

for jaundice and hepatitis. If the fire flares upward, it causes redness of the

face and eyes, tinnitus, headache, and hypertension. Or, if it is conjoined

with dampness, it can flow downward along the liver meridian, which

curves around the external genitalia. It can therefore be used for swelling

and sores in the lower part of the body. It is a remedy for genital herpes. The circulation of qi and blood stagnates to cause “steaming of the

testicles”; intolerable itching of the scrotum; in women, “steaming of the

vagina” due to damp heat, with yellow, foul leukorrhea and severe itching

pruritis (ouch!).

Yellow Dock Root

(Rumex crispus)

Herbs can even help us understand the spirit more fully. A member of the

Rumex clan native to the Upper Missouri Basin is used by the Indian People

to increase understanding of spiritual experiences. It is mentioned by

Melvin Gilmore in Uses of Plants by the Indians of the Missouri River

Region (1991).

This is called “Medicine of Understanding.” We use the

common Rumex crispus in Western herbalism. I had a peculiar experience with this plant that showed its relationship to

its cousin. One of my long-term clients called me from the hospital. Her

colitis had flared up. She was on 55 mg of prednisone a day but was having

fifteen to twenty bowel movements a day. This occurred five weeks after

the birth of her third child. I thought that she possibly got thrush from her

baby. She had to stop lactation—a real trauma for her little daughter. I arrived at the hospital in the evening. Sarah’s big, extended Jewish

family had gone home. We talked easily. I wasn’t very worried about which

herb to give. She had a sort of reddish/brownish complexion with spots of

yellow, like inflammation with serum coming up to the surface. Evidently,

this was what was going on in the intestine. I already knew of yellow and

red as a complexion indicating Yellow Dock Root. A nurse came in and asked who I was. I didn’t think it was particularly

her business so I said: “The witch doctor.” She scurried out of the room and

about fifteen minutes later a doctor came in to investigate who I was,

surreptitiously. “Oh, my son has Crohn’s disease, what would you do?” and

so on. “Every individual is different so you just have to use what’s

appropriate for the case,” I replied. It was amusing. We got witch-doctor results. Sarah was on 55 mg of prednisone a day

and she still was having diarrhea all day long. The doctor mumbled, “If this

doesn’t stop, we’ll have to operate.” I had a quarter-ounce of Yellow Dock

Root tincture with me. I gave Sarah a dose and left it with her. She was

constipated for the next two days. The doctors didn’t ask what I gave, of

course. They weren’t sincerely interested. But they did start taking down

the dosage of prednisone rapidly. Then something happened. The doctor

noticed: “Hey, you’re blessing people.” Sarah answered back: “Well, what

do you want me to do, curse ’em?” She was diagnosed as having “religious

ecstasy” from the prednisone withdrawal and put in the psych ward for

three days. She did, in fact, have visions of God and her life and how it all

fit together, and she helped a person in the lockup with her who was

suicidal. Afterward they put her on a regimen where they reduced the

prednisone by 5 mg a week. She was weaned off the drug after several

months. Everything went well for a year and then I got a call. Sarah was having

diarrhea again. “Take the Yellow Dock Root again,” I said. She called back:

“Every time I take a dose, I have a blip of religious ecstasy.” In the

intervening year I had heard about “Medicine of Understanding” so now I realized that Yellow Dock Root had some kind of similar effect. I explained

that somehow the religious ecstasy was part of the disease and stirred up by

the Yellow Dock. “Take one drop a week and slowly the diarrhea and the

religious ecstasy should go away.” And that’s what happened. Later, Sarah said, “Now I am more down-to-earth about spiritual issues. When someone tells me they’ve had a spiritual experience, I say: ‘Yes, but

what are you going to do about it?’” She is well twenty years later. DOG MEDICINE

Another animal associated with gut-level instincts is Dog. When the

stranger arrives, Dog instincts kick in and Dog barks. I don’t count myself

as the last word in shamanic herbalism (though maybe I am the first!), but it

appears the Badger Medicines rely more on bitterness and the yellow

bitters, while the Dog remedies act more on the innervation of the solar

plexus. Wood Betony and Bryonia, which I have placed here, actually seem

to be Human Medicines in some measure—the human and the dog are

bound together. Black Hoarhound

(Ballota nigra)

This is the less-known cousin of White Hoarhound (Marrubium vulgare);

they are both in the mint family, both native to the Old World, both “furry.”

That explains the “hoary”—like a hoarfrost. The spelling “horehound” is

more common, but not correct. Originally, I thought the furriness was why

they were “hound” remedies, but more recently I became aware that Ballota

was used as a rabies remedy in Europe. This may have been due to the

doctrine of signatures: the fur indicating its use for dog bites. This medicine plant came late into my apothecary, but when I adopted

it, I found that it covered a niche that was really needed. David Hoffmann is

one of the few contemporary herbalists who mention it. He writes in The

New Holistic Herbal that Ballota is “an excellent remedy for the settling of

nausea and vomiting when the cause lies within the nervous system rather

than the stomach” (1992, 181).

In other words, the stomach is not itself

irritated or full or disordered; the problem lies in nerves acting on the solar plexus. He recommends it for motion sickness, the vomiting of pregnancy,

or nausea and vomiting due to nervousness. I misinterpreted this somewhat. I did use Ballota a few times for

nervous tension reflexing to the stomach but eventually discovered that it

was a specific for nervousness and anxiety centered in the solar plexus

itself. In other words, it is a solar-plexus medicine. A mother I had been doctoring now and then over a decade or more

brought her daughter to see me—I mean, they flew in from another state. The daughter was suffering from low-grade but socially debilitating

problems, with anxiety and nervousness felt in the stomach. She didn’t like

to go in department stores because she felt trapped by the layout—which is

intended to trap a person. The symptoms were subtle but the location in the

stomach was the best hint. Black Hoarhound cured this and she married a

nice guy a year and a half later. David Hoffmann reflects the English herbal tradition. I think the fount

of tradition on this plant may be attributed to Richard Hool, who said he

learned about the remedy from his mother. From him we learn that Ballota

also acts on the gallbladder, which is so intimately tied to the stomach—as

mentioned under Gentian. In Health from British Wild Herbs (1918), he

explains that Black Hoarhound is one of the best remedies for “biliousness,

bilious colic, and sour belchings,” what we now call esophageal reflux. It

acts “as if a current of electricity had passed into the stomach, allaying all

the symptoms momentarily.”

Hool extends the use to spasms throughout the body, reminding us that

spasms are accompanied by “a disturbance of the equilibrium of the blood

circulation and the nerve force.” It is therefore a remedy for coughs,

bronchitis, asthma, and chronic respiratory problems. It “resolves the

viscidity of the mucus secretions, and acts as an alterative tonic upon the

mucous follicles,” cleaning and healing them. In holistic medicine we think

about what is happening in the tissues; biomedicine thinks in terms of

molecules. Ballota is also for excess or lack of menstrual flow. “It may seem

contradictory to the ordinary reader” that the herb may be used in “opposite

conditions,” comments Hool. However, the problem is due to a “loss of

equilibrium,” which Ballota restores. This generalization is true for many, many herbs because they normalize

between two extremes. Sometimes tradition or experience only tells us about one side of the imbalance; then there is more to be learned about this

herb, lurking in the background. As I read back over this account, I wonder

if Black Hoarhound would be remedial for the dystonia and vagal problems

that follow in the wake of covid and other problems that distune the

autonomic nervous system. Wood Betony

(Stachys officinalis, Betonica officinalis)

I cannot honestly call this a Dog or Badger Medicine because its effects on

the solar plexus (and brain) are tonifying rather than stimulating; it is more

gentle than the herbs in these categories. Wood Betony is a wonderful remedy for strengthening the innervations

of the brain of the head and the brain of the stomach—both the central and

autonomic nervous systems. It is for slender, ungrounded people—it helps

connect the brain to the stomach and the brain and stomach to the Earth. It

is excellent for the elderly. The aboveground parts are safe: a mint nervine

of the highest order. As a shamanic herbalist, one might be called upon to cure all sorts of

things. Wood Betony is the remedy for “alien abduction” problems. There

are a lot of different “aliens.” I gave some interesting case histories in The

Book of Herbal Wisdom (1997, 165–78).

Seán O’Donoghue says it helps

people who feel they themselves are aliens or alienated from their

community. One time when I gave Wood Betony for a man who had been abducted

by aliens, I had a vision:

As I was driving down the street at dusk, my consciousness

projected out of my head through a hole in the clouds. I heard

voices singing “Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty.” I

found myself in front of the throne of God. I could see up to

his knees—about three stories high. He boomed out: “I have

made a covenant with the Earth, that I will not allow the Earth

to be destroyed.” Wow, that’s great, I thought. Then he added:

“And I’m not relying upon the human race to help me.” Of

course, we’re the problem. “They’re a weak reed to rely on.”

Wow, this sure is Old-Testamenty, I thought. I asked what

would happen to the human race, but he faded away. At two in the morning, I was awoken by one of those gray

aliens with the big black slanted eyes. She put a probe in the

inner canthus of my left eye to communicate with me. “The

Earth is dead. Therefore, we are going to launch an

evacuation, and we’d like you to be a leader because people

are so terrified by us.” End of transmission, pulled the probe,

gone. I felt nothing but terror the whole time. I tossed and turned until morning. I couldn’t figure who was right: God

or the aliens?

That’s the way it is with some visions—you are so removed

from normalcy that it takes a while for common sense to kick back in. I

called and asked a friend at eight in the morning. “Well, God, of course!”

she said. Yeah, that makes sense, I thought. Bryonia

(Bryonia alba)

The true Mandrake (Mandragora officinarum) of the Middle East and

Central Asia was much esteemed as a fertility medicine within its range and

even finds its way into the Hebrew Bible. The stories about Jacob in

Genesis are filled with magical references, among them the use of

mandrake by his wives Rachel and Leah in their contest to have the most

children. The name seems to come from the words “man” and “drake”

(dragon)—whatever that means. During the homeopathic provings, one

chronically infertile woman got pregnant. The Mandragora is not native to Western Europe, but the English

herbalists noticed that the big, plump root of their own native White Bryony

(Bryonia dioica) sometimes looked like a man, so they called it

“Mandrake,” not having the exotic Mandragora. This plant is not known as

a fertility medicine; it is a hydrogogue or a cathartic so intense it drains the

fluids out of the colon. It had to be moderated by admixture with gentler

appropriate agents. This was in centuries before the appearance of cathartics

like Rhubarb and Senna. Making mandrake usable was a trade secret

closely held by the herbalists and herb guilds of the time. Not only the formulation but even the digging of the root became a

special affair. The old herbalists concocted a ritual to maintain their secrets. It was said that the root screamed when it was pulled out of the ground so

they would dig it out almost entirely, tie their dog to it, walk a long distance

away then call for the dog, who would rip it out of the ground. This led to

the stories surrounding Mandrakes told in the Harry Potter books. Not only did people harvest the root in these crazy rituals but they

would grow them in molds or carve them to look more like human beings. William Turner writes in his New Herball from 1568:

The roots which are counterfeited and made like little puppets or

mammets, which come to be sold in England in boxes, with hair and

such form as a man hath, are nothing but foolish feigned trifles, and

not natural; for they are so trimmed of crafty thieves to mock the

poor people withal, and to rob them both of their wit and their

money. (Turner 1996, 2:437)

Magical beliefs piled on top of others, so that it came to be believed that

Mandrake that grew under the gallows where condemned men shed their

blood or sperm was the most powerful. Turner also opposes this belief

(1996, 2:437):

But it groweth not under gallosses [gallows], as a certain doting

doctor of Cologne in his physic lecture did teach his auditors;

neither doth it rise of the sede of man that falleth from him that is

hanged; neither is it called Mandragoras because it came of man’s

seed, as the forsaid Doctor dreamed. Meanwhile, the herbalists still turned it to their purposes. At country

fairs, the fortunate herbalist who possessed such an item would raise it on a

staff to identify himself as a guild herbalist. And later, when herb shops

began to appear in villages and towns, a Bryony root would be placed in the

window for all to see. For more details on this subject, see C. S. J. Thompson, The Mystic Mandrake (1934).

All this would be entirely academic were it not for the fact that Chris

MacPadden, one of my students (and now one of my co-teachers), dreamed

of the rites by which Bryonia was harvested and used by the English

herbalists. I told him: “Well, I guess that means you are a qualified herbalist.” What was rather odd about this was that Chris is part-Ojibwa and

Métis, speaks Ojibwa, and has studied with his elders. In dreamtime there is

no such thing as “cultural appropriation.” That only belongs to those who

can’t dream. In homeopathy, Bryonia is used as the opposite of the old English herbal

use: it is for dried out membranes that have lost all their fluids, hence the

keynote: worse from movement—because there are no lubricating fluids. I’ve also found that it is good when people are forced to move from their

homes, and the moving process has taken a heavy toll on them. To my

knowledge it doesn’t help the animal instincts (like the other Dog and

Badger remedies), but works with overly strong emotional attachments. I

helped one woman who had a red, inflamed, dried-off tongue who said she

felt like she had to make a pact with the Devil to get out of the religious cult

she was raised in. She needed to know it was okay to feel like one is ripped

out of the ground. Bryony is a member of the Pumpkin family, so it has this great big root

like a Cucumber or Squash—but underground. It is rather fun to have Mandragora or its American namesake,

Podophyllum peltatum, in the garden. They will actually move, screwing

themselves deeper into the ground or out of it. I was once teaching a class at

Kate Gilday’s Woodland Essences, in the Adirondacks. I mentioned this in

front a class of over ten people (only counting the ones that were paying

attention) and the American Mandrake moved in the ground. “It shifted!”

exclaimed Kate. This is a powerful medicinal plant. The Way of the Turtle and Self-Actualization

As I already mentioned, the “Way of the Turtle” is a name for the boundary

in the throat between the human and the animal, as well as the lessons that

can be learned there. It is also a place where the teacher can examine the

student. The moment I said “Yes” to visiting a medicine man, I felt a

sensation like a tube breaking in my throat. Immediately, my inner space

became filled with the smoke of his peace pipe. This was his way of

examining me: he “smoked me.” Castaneda described the exact same

experience: a sensation of the breaking of a tube in the neck, followed by being “smoked” by his teacher. Rudolf Steiner describes this point in

Knowledge of the Higher Worlds and Its Attainment (1947, 133):

Thanks to the spiritual organ situated in the vicinity of the larynx, it

becomes possible to survey clairvoyantly the thoughts and mentality

of other beings, and to obtain a deeper insight into the true laws of

natural phenomena. This “spiritual organ” is usually called the “throat chakra,” in Western

occultism. It is usually described as a flower with sixteen petals. Steiner

continues (1947, 136):

In the sixteen-petaled lotus, eight of its sixteen petals were

developed in the remote past during an earlier stage of human

evolution. Man himself contributed nothing to this development; he

received them as a gift from nature, at a time when his

consciousness was in a dull, dreamy condition. At that stage of

human evolution, they were in active use, but the manner of their

activity was only compatible with that dull state of consciousness. As consciousness became clearer and brighter, the petals became

obscured and ceased their activity. In other words, these “petals” of consciousness were developed in the

animal period of evolution, as part of animal awareness. Although Steiner

calls that form of consciousness “dull and dreamy,” in fact it is a doorway

to lucidity in dreamtime. It is just dull and dreamy here, in the conscious

world of the humans. Eight of the petals have reference to the human and eight to the animal. So the original eight were where we were at when we were closer to the

animal world. The approach taught by Steiner involves the development of awareness

in the eight human petals, which, when finished, actualize the eight animal

petals. “Only eight can be consciously developed; the remainder then

appear of their own accord” (Steiner 1947, 137).

Each of the eight human petals relates to what we might call a “human

virtue.” According to Steiner, the first involves the development of (1)

conscious thinking, so that the person does not entertain and follow random

thoughts, but those that are constructive and useful. We can see that this is in fact one of the primal differences between animals and humans: we can

concentrate and self-reflect. The second pertains to (2) the making of

resolutions: a person should agree to proceed only after careful

consideration and self-reflection. This is an extension of the previous lesson

and also relates to the ability to keep a focus or return to it. The third relates

to (3) intentional speech, which should not be casual, but carry the weight

of self-reflection. The ability to speak is a crucial characteristic of the

human life-wave and a doorway through which the spirit manifests. The

fourth lesson moves beyond speech to action. It pertains to (4) conscious

action harmonious with the outer world. We tend to “stick out” in the

natural world in unnatural ways. It becomes necessary, therefore, for us to

leave the least noticeable footprint in the forest. The fifth petal involves (5)

the management of the whole of life, so that the student attempts to live in

harmony within the outside and the inside worlds. The sixth petal is named

(6) balanced self-knowledge, meaning that “he attempts nothing beyond his

powers, yet seeks to omit nothing within their scope.” This sets the stage for

the seventh petal, which involves (7) learning as much from life as possible. On the spiritual path, we value all experiences and attempt to extract

meaning, value, and background from each of them. We don’t ignore even

the fleeting images in our mind, much less the scars burned into our souls. The eighth and final petal involves (8) continuous self-reflection. All of this must be done in a way that is not “irksome” but flows

naturally from within the person as established habit. When these eight

“petals” have been actualized, the other eight will “reappear of themselves”

(Steiner 1947, 143).

We can see that this is a prescription for a very well-set out-spiritual

training program. Steiner notes that it corresponds closely with directions

given by Buddha to his students. It also resembles the seven virtues

associated with the middle bundle of sweetgrass. This is the kind of

behavior we need to be good citizens of human society as well as students

on the path of spiritual knowledge. Thinking about the Werewolf, Alligator

King, Snake Woman, the Lord of the Underworld, and the ouroboros is not

so challenging; but experiencing them, without our defenses, naked in

dreamtime, is terrifying. For this we need the sobriety of the warrior. Remember Christine’s experience after “answering the question.”

The properties of the eight petals relating to animal consciousness are

not described by Steiner, but this is where we obtain our “deeper insight into the true laws of natural phenomena,” which he also mentioned. Both

the channel and the knowledge received there are called the Way of the

Turtle. An education in natural law, the Wisdom of Nature, and the opening

to the Spirit World are all engraved on our neck, like some kind of spiritual

collar. Little Turtle raises his head up to show us this spot. Wolf raises his

head upward to let out his mournful cry—the cry of the whole Animal

Kingdom for their lost human brother. Premature Actualization of the Animal Spirit

Steiner comments (1947, 143): “faulty training may easily result in the re-

appearance of the earlier petals alone, while the new petals remain stunted.”

That means that animality rules the person instead of humanity. This is not a

completely unknown problem on the Old, Old Path. The emphasis on rational teachings and self-government described by

Steiner is a good educational program, but I experienced a more ancient

method. “That old man,” said another medicine man, “could initiate a

person into the medicine lodge in one day.”

The fact that the dream self developed in prehuman times, along with

the warm-blooded heart and powerful animal instincts and sensations, hints

at the great debt we owe Animalia. I was reminded of this when I was

attacked by a young self-described “witch” who, surprisingly, possessed a

fully developed (but abused) familiar spirit. This person was addicted to

viciously hectoring people online if they didn’t agree with her absurd views

and personal needs. She had obnoxious ideas about herbalism, which I

opposed, so she attacked me and set her cyberbully accomplices on me. Black Bird Flies

After I didn’t knuckle under, she resorted to attacking me in dreamtime. I

woke up in the middle of the night with a black bird flying at my face. It

seemed real for a second but it woke me up and I immediately understood

that it was a familiar spirit so there was no reason for me to be afraid. Spirit

animals are as likable as physical animals. I had been thinking about this person during the day and she had even

threatened me online, so I knew the identity of the attacker. Besides, she was a Crow in the way she hectored everybody. Nothing much followed

this aborted attack, but two weeks later Black Bird asked if it could stay

with me because the witch “was so mean and you’re nice.” I’d never

encountered this kind of question before, so I followed my instincts. They

told me I had to ask for spiritual guidance. Separating a person from their

animal self can be fatal. Jesus had popped into my mind earlier in the day,

so I asked him. He said it was okay to keep a familiar spirit as long as it

wanted to stay with me. So it stayed with me. This experience was valuable. I learned that Jesus was the incarnation

of spiritual law in a human being. This law has been incarnated; it is not

written on stone or paper, as in the tablets of Moses, Confucius, Asoka,

Justinian, Napoleon, or the American Constitution. It is not “blind,” like our

Justice. I suppose this is exactly what a Christian would say, but there is a

difference between thinking of something and having the experience. That

was well worth having, so I can thank my worthy opponent for that lesson. I also came to understand something about witches. Most of them

operate as laws unto themselves, deciding who will live and who will die,

as if it is up to them to determine the fate of their fellow creatures. This is

an incredibly arrogant position to assume. This lack of awareness shows the vulnerability of witches. They are so

imprudent that they will attack people without understanding that they

themselves could end up on the losing end of the kerfuffle. To set one’s

familiar spirit against another person, with intent to do harm, could cause

death, mental illness, or damage the spiritual life of the other person;

equally, it could damage the sender terribly. My new animal friend preferred to be called “Black Bird,” identifying

with a general group rather than an individual species. I don’t really know

what goes through the mind of an animal totem; they may draw their

species and genus lines differently than humans. There is no doubt there is a

big difference between ravens, who hang around in small flocks, and crows,

who are much more sociable, talkative, and even hectoring. I also understood Black Bird’s desire to stay with me rather than to be

“returned to the wild.” The Animal Kingdom yearns for association with us,

especially for the eight lessons that Steiner described. The animals desire to

see, know, and live in association with the integrity, sobriety, and law-

abiding conscientiousness that humans can incarnate. There is always forgiveness for every kind of spiritual offense, but the

more serious the crime, the more change is required from the offender. Black Bird’s co-walker cannot be given a blank check to happily prance

along the path of life, oblivious to the destruction she is causing. It is

serious business to damage the spiritual life of another individual, or even

their physical body, or inflict on their free will, or (if nothing else) to waste

their time. A few weeks later, a little cohort of witches who were also part of the

group sent against me launched their attack. The leader was a dilettante by

comparison to Black Bird’s co-walker; she was an unworthy opponent. She

didn’t use a familiar spirit, but instead practiced the usual sort of petty

witchcraft based on building up emotional energy and directing it according

to images that she focused upon. The purpose these people had set up was to stop my forward momentum

in the world so that I would cease to have influence. This included attacking

my voice so I couldn’t speak. A friend pointed out the contours of what was

going on. I had a few hours’ drive with nothing better to do than talk to the

chief witch in my mind. I told her she couldn’t do this kind of stuff to

people and she was going to have to take responsibility for her actions. She

was quite upset by the idea of taking responsibility because it turned out she

didn’t like work and she was happy with the place on the dial where her ego

was already set and she didn’t want to change. I also noticed she was not

sexually disciplined. How anybody with so little willpower and self-control

could think to practice witchcraft is beyond me. The woman needed to take responsibility for her actions but I didn’t

want to have to monitor her. Just then Black Bird showed up and said, “I

could do that for you.” “Oh?

How would you do that?” I enquired. “Every

time she tries to abuse psychic powers, I’ll send her a nightmare until she

learns responsibility.”

This taught me another important lesson. Now I understood that the

guardian, the Dweller on the Threshold, actually is a person’s animal self. Because animals have excellent instincts, they are aware of psychological

wrongs and react like a dog with bared teeth. Until we bring our animal self

to consciousness, it operates as the Dweller on the Threshold, keeping us

from unhealthy exposure to energies we are not ready to face. It does this

by sending us dreams. If our own animal self has been suppressed and

overridden by the ego, another animal spirit can take up the task. Now I understood what the witch meant when she said Mullein could be used to

send people nightmares. I was grateful for this experience because it taught

me, step by step, about the meaning of nightmares. When a person abuses psychic powers, the animal self—which has

healthy instincts (unless it has been abused)—disapproves of the actions of

the ego. It bulges up from the unconscious as a nightmare. When, in the

fullness of time, we bring the animal self to full awareness and equality

with the human self, then at last we see it in its fully developed form. The

smug setting on the egoic dial becomes movable, our automatonic existence

is ended, and we assume responsibility as a citizen of the Earth—rather than

remaining a tramp. A few years passed. I never saw Black Bird again. Then, one morning I

woke up with the Beatles song “Blackbird” playing in my mind. Black Bird

was back!

A few nights later, I had dreams about being confused and not

being able to teach about herbal medicine. As I came out of the dream, I

understood that these were curses against me, intended to stop me from

teaching my life vocation, and Black Bird was showing me what the curses

were. She was bringing them back to me for release. I was grateful for the

protection. She checked me out, to see if I needed any help, then flew off to

some other project. Like Jesus said, I have to respect the independence of

Black Bird. BLACK BIRD MEDICINE

I count crows, black birds, and ravens together. Because they feed on

carcasses, I consider their medicines to be the anti-putrefactives and

antiseptics. For me, the signature is a black mark on the leaf or some other

structure, or the sudden turning black of an injured part. The plants in this

category overlap with the Snake Medicines (Black Cohosh, Baptisia) and

other plants with black marks or blackening on the injured leaves—

Knotweeds and Viburnums, for instance. 8

The Spirit Self

Magic is a great, secret, sudden and disbelieved-in

wisdom, out of this world, and opposite. PASCHAL BEVERLY RANDOLPH, SEERSHIP

Dreams, hitherto confused and haphazard, now begin to

assume a more regular character. Their pictures begin to

succeed each other in sensible connection, like the

thoughts and ideas of daily life. He can discern in them

law, cause, and effect....

Now there appear before him

pictures of a world he has hitherto not known. RUDOLF STEINER, KNOWLEDGE OF THE HIGHER

WORLDS AND ITS ATTAINMENT

The spirit does not take volunteers. However, it is always peeking through

the clouds looking for associates ...

and the impossible is its favorite

ground for action. It knocks on the door of all people, all the time—when it

doesn’t knock the door down—advertising a jump into a river whose

destination none can foresee. It is impossible to dedicate oneself to the spirit because the ego will

never willingly give up its power. That’s the nature of the ego and nobody

can change it. And that’s why volunteers always have an egoic agenda the spirit doesn’t trust. So the only recourse it has is to trap the ego in an

unwinnable situation. How does that happen?

It drives the person to an

extremity where they have no choice because life for the ego or the body is

going to end. Only to save itself will the ego submit itself to another power. Mircea Eliade penned the classic characterization of the person who

experiences the shamanic calling (1964, 33–66).

They become physically or

psychically ill to the point where life is despaired. At their lowest extremity

they are given a choice: stay where you are and die, or join the spirit and

live. The person who is in the best position to accept the offering of the

spirit is one whose life is forfeit and this is the kind of person who has lived

up to the edge, over the edge, or never had a chance to live a “normal life.”

That is why Jesus loved the sinners: they were the only ones able to

dedicate themselves to a radically new life. People leading a safe life are

not ready to give everything up. When a person chooses the spirit over death, the spirit can at last step

in. Afterward the person will be a prisoner of the spirit, and yet they will

also be free. How could that be?

It is because the spirit allows us to be

exactly who we are. That which traps the person also reveals them. Although the spirit sneaks up on us and takes our free will away, it is

the absolute respecter and guarantor of free will. It will not force people to

follow it because this would violate its very nature. The spirit requires

absolute freedom to operate fully and unconditionally. As the guarantor of

freedom, the spirit hates slavery in all its forms. It thoroughly respects the

free will of human beings, even though we are automatons with only an

illusion of freedom, controlled by unseen forces. It will even allow itself to

be taken prisoner and abused by dark magicians. Although the ego must succumb to the spirit, after it has recognized the

hegemony of the spirit, it still has a job: it remains as the protector of the

island of the tonal. The spirit would drive a person to exhaustion, so the

ego, the soul, and the physical body have to learn to stand up for their own

needs. We are reborn in the spirit but we also remain in the world. There is

a period of adjustment, during which tensions remain, but eventually the

three selves should come into a peaceful coexistence. The spirit is not only the absolute respecter of free will: it is ruthless by

nature, so that once the choice to join the spirit has been made, revocation is

impossible. It is the foundation of truth and reality, so we cannot lie to it or retract our vow. We make what Ronald Weasley called the “Unbreakable

Vow.”

The Big Choice

Those who see this choice coming are not always happy about it. It means

they are going to have to give up a lot of convenient things that make life

easier for them. Susan recalled:

I remember when I made the choice to follow the path. I was

camping. I knew what my life would become. I didn’t have a

choice. I had to give up all that “out-there stuff.” I was going to

have to be spiritual. I was literally kicking and screaming

because I had no choice. I didn’t want that life. It looked like a

life of suffering. Then I saw this old, old grandfather sitting by

me in the tent. He shook his head, as if to say, “What a

spoiled little baby. She’s having a temper tantrum.”

Knowing Susan, it is hard to believe she wanted to cling to her old life. She ran away from home when she was thirteen, lived in the sewers of

Minneapolis (literally, inside the sewer system), survived a gunshot wound

with an exploding bullet when she was fifteen, and was dying from Crohn’s

disease when I first met her twenty years later. Still, she didn’t want to give

up that life. One day Susan washed up at the herb store where I worked—dying. She

was trying to pretend she was a normal person with a normal job, but the

owner of the store and I laughed at her. We were standing behind the

counter, leering at her like two Big Bad Wolves. It was not just because she

was good-looking, but because we could feel the wild, undomesticated

spirit within her. She was streetwise and inner-city to the core. Bob, the

owner of the store, gave her Calamus Root (Acorus calamus)—even though

it’s on the FDA “bad herb list.” That stopped the Crohn’s disease for ten

years—so stick that in your eye, FDA!

Later, Susan started coming to sweat lodges with me, and later attended

the Sundance once a year and walked the “Red Road” of Indian spirituality. She got into that more seriously than I did. It fed her soul. This path took care of the reason Susan had gotten sick in the first place. Nobody

supported her spirit when she was young and nobody supplied her with the

spiritual education she needed. She didn’t run away from home due to

abuse, but due to disgust with the culture she was raised in—ordinary

American society—and the lack of true spiritual aspiration at home. She

was a dedicated spiritual warrior even before she knew what it was. Still,

she needed to almost physically die to pass into the hands of the spirit. A few years later, the spirit sent Susan a test. I guess it still wanted to

make sure she would put her life on the line. After ten years, the Crohn’s

disease flared up again. She decided: “If God can’t cure me, I’m ready to

die.” But we found the right herb—see the full account under Gravel Root. That hasn’t been the end of her suffering, either. She was paralyzed in

bed with Lyme disease, so exhausted she couldn’t cross one leg over the

other. “The spirits came to me and said they would cure me as an act of

grace.” And they did. Her latter years have been overshadowed by her

husband’s death and a stroke. Most people put off making the Big Choice. They want to live the

riotous life of the ego and the physical body that we choose as a species

when we ate the apple in the Garden of Eden, in the beginning of time. The

resources of the Earth are here for us—not to support our pleasures, but to

provide a place for us to grow as spiritual beings. Earth is the safety net of

Eden, giving us a second chance. The riotous life of the ego and the body can become such a habit that

eventually it becomes the Choice. Or again, some people consciously make

the decision to oppose the spirit and exalt the ego. Some people stumble on,

trying to find the right path, without guidance. One day they find the spirit

because their habits have been moving them in the right direction. Some

people don’t really make a decision, they just keep on doing the best they

can until, one day—because they have been trying to do their best—they

cross an invisible line and enter the territory of God. Others don’t make a

decision, they just keep wasting Earth resources until they slowly start to

circle down the toilet bowl. Ultimately, there are only two choices. According to Gottfried de Purucker, the Sanskrit words for these are (1932,

158):

Pratyeka-Yâna (“everyone for himself” path)

Amrita-Yâna (immortal path)

Fertile Ground for the Spirit

There are several different kinds of people that the spirit hoovers over, like

the spirit brooding over the waters on the first day of creation. Here are a

few of the better-known types:

The Straight Arrow

A small number of people have innate integrity. Male or female, they are

naturally disciplined, honest, straightforward, and willing to put others first,

even in the face of death. Some people do not need to be cornered by the

spirit, they just need to see it in action firsthand. When they see it, the

instinct of truth within them recognizes it for what it is, and they drop what

they are doing and follow the spirit. This is what they have been waiting for

without necessarily knowing it. The True Heart

The old Arabic physicians taught that the heart had three valves. The names

for them are “Mercy,” “Justice,” and the “Peacemaker.” The first one opens

up to bring love and mercy to the world. The valve of Justice closes against

those who do not deserve our love. The Peacemaker adjusts the balance

between the two, so that they open and close in correct balance—not too

tight, not too loose. True hearts are the ones whose hearts are genuine and sincere. Their

love is true; they possess the straight arrow of the heart. They love those

who deserve to be loved. Because their heart is true, they also learn to know

when not to love. They can’t love unless the object of affection is worthy. The spirit appreciates this tempered soul. Since both straight arrows and true hearts make fine partners, husbands

and wives, reliable workers and managers, and good members of society,

there are not a lot of free ones hanging around for the spirit to latch onto. Without them, society would probably collapse, so it is necessary that most

of them remain in the social arena. Many of them learn to operate in both

the ordinary world and the spiritual world. The spirit is always following these people around and “helping them.”

That is why they have a certain “charm” that gets them out of problems, as

if they had a “guardian angel” on their shoulder, or a “love medicine” that made everyone fall in love with them. There is a kind of charm that comes