From Writing as a Sacred Path:
Since the first glimmerings of human consciousness, virtually every society on Earth has had members who travel between the mundane world and the spirit realm. These extraordinary people—known today under the catchall term shaman—cross barriers between life and eath, concrete reality and shadowy myth. They enter states of consciousness inaccessible to others. Their goals are to gain healing knowledge and aid from the spirits. Anthropologist Joan Halifax calls them “specialists in the human soul.”
Shamanism has been nearly obliterated in industrialized cultures, but the need for shamans has not disappeared. In fact, in a world where rationalism rules, we deperately need people to serve as our emissaries to the mythological realm. In the West, this task falls largely to writers.
In my book, Writing as a Sacred Path, I write about four spiritual roles writers play. That of the shaman, the warrior, the mystic, and the monk. The next four weeks of my writing pilgrimage will be devoted to each of these roles. This week, I will be exploring the shamanic aspects of the writing life.
Let me start with a warning: The shamanic journey is not for the feint of heart. Traditional shamans are believed to travel to the realm of dangerous and malevolent spirits. They have visions of violent confrontation in which they endure terrible trials, such as being devoured by demons or crossing rivers of fire.
The writer’s shamanic journey may not be quite so brutal—but it can be dark. It can also be full of light and joy, of course, but even the most sanguine of writers knows that good writing often comes out of pain, and being willing to face that pain is an essential part of the writing process.
Writers typically face two types of darkness on their shamanic journeys. The first type comes from within. Writing forces you to look at the unpleasant things in your own life: the griefs, the disappointments, the painful memories. It takes you into the shadowy corners of your subconscious, where your worst fears lie. It also makes you look honestly at the parts of yourself you’d just as soon not acknowledge: If you want your writing to be authentic, you have to be willing to look your own worst self in the eye.
The second type of darkness writers face comes from outside themselves. Writing asks you to look boldly at the injustices of your own nation and community, to be willing to expose and challenge wrongdoing. You cannot write well if you refuse to see the inequalities and abuses going on around you.
But if this all sounds too horrifying, take heart. The point of the shaman’s journey isn’t to become overwhelmed with sadness or fear—it’s to find healing. When the traditional shaman returns to the ordinary world, she doesn’t come back trembling and weeping, but purified and transformed. She also comes back with answers. In traditional societies, shamans are healers par excellence. They cure diseases and treat wounds. They offer aid to those dealing with sadness or grief. They even repair rifts in whole communities.
And so do writers. We don’t venture into our pasts or society’s sins just to dredge up pain. We do it to find remedy and renewal—and to bring healing balm to others.
Throughout this week, we’ll be looking at the shamanic aspects of the writing life. We’ll explore the writer’s role as healer, and I’ll offer some tips for developing the shaman within. In addition, writer Penny Coté will be joining us with an exclusive guest post on the Shadow Self. Join us!