The Shaman

I have just returned from my third visit to the town of Bath. I went to soak in the natural warm springs and get a massage along with two of my friends from high school. But this time, while browsing on the Internet to book appointments at one of the spas, I learned about Beatrice, a shamanic healer. I was intrigued. My knowledge of shamanism was limited to reading Carlos Castaneda years ago, but the books have lingered in my imagination. So I made the appointment for a two-hour healing session with Beatrice.

            We first sat across from each other at a little table and she asked me questions: why I was there, about my illness, what events preceded my becoming ill, and what persons, living or dead, did she have my mandate “to call” for assistance in helping me heal. I gave her permission to call my deceased son and brother and my living husband. Then the ritual began.

            Standing in the center of a white rug, she lit candles and a smudge stick and waved the smoke on me with a large black feather. Then I lay on the rug and she asked me to smell different essential oils. She dabbed two of my favorites on my neck. Covered with a blanket, wearing an eye mask, and headphones to eliminate distractions, I was instructed to focus on my breath and relax my body. She lay down beside me to take a shamanic journey seeking answers and instructions.

            Beatrice started a recording of drumming for me to listen to, but I could still hear her take perhaps six very powerful breaths before she became quiet and still. After a long period of steady drumming the music increased in tempo, then stopped. Beatrice rose and told me she was going to blow energy into my body. She put her mouth and cupped hands on my belly, then heart, then the top of my head and blew. She told me to stay lying down and continue to relax. She was going to write down what she saw.

            When she was done writing she began to do bodywork on me. While she worked she asked if I liked to eat and if I ate well. She suggested I see a nutritionist because she thought there might be a problem in that area. She also suggested I might benefit from cranio-sacral therapy because I seemed to need more “space” in my body.

            At last we returned to the little table to go over her notes. She promised to email them to me so I needn’t worry about remembering it all. When I receive them I will share them in a post. There is too much to recall, and I want to be accurate. I will say now that it was an intense, personal experience.