The Guardian

‘This is people coming home’

Why thousands are surrendering themselves to shamanism

Amelia Hill

My ancestors are circled around my space. The shaman gives thanks to the nature spirits, the animals, the trees and my spirit guides (both known and unknown). She asks my guides to gently cleanse me and remove anything from my field that does not belong there, recreating my natural order.

It’s not how I’m used to spending my mornings. I much prefer this morning’s secret ceremony of healing; lying in a dark room with my laptop glowing, listening to Rhonda McCrimmon, a shamanic practitioner and the founder of the Centre for Shamanism, incanting ancient enchantments and whistling tunes that evoke birds calling across vast distances, all the while beating a tempo that nudges my brain towards the dreamlike theta state.

In the past decade, many thousands have found relief in such surrender: this week’s Census revealed a tenfold increase in those identifying as shamanic followers, from 650 in 2011 to 8,000 in 2021.

McCrimmon is unsurprised by the increase: “Shamanism empowers people to take responsibility for their own health and wellness,” she says.

“I think Covid played a big part in that because it made people question what was important in their lives at a time when the only way they could entertain themselves was by going outside,” she adds.

Simon Buxton, the founder and director of the shamanic organisation the Sacred Trust Faculty, explains: “This is people coming home, back to something that we were engaged with right back to the dawn of human consciousness …We’re not talking about something that’s new age, we’re talking about something that’s stone age that has managed to survive periods of persecution, prosecution and execution because it works. It’s only the last 2,000 years or so that we’ve practised monotheistic traditions and religions.”

Shamanism is a healing tradition; a spiritual practice with its own symbolism and cosmology, inhabited by beings, gods and totems. Built on four pillars – connection with nature, healing of self and of community, spiritual practice and pilgrimage – it is a way of life for those who practise it seriously.

So are these new followers middle-class yoga teachers going deep – or is this really a rebirth of old ways? Buxton says one of the things he likes about shamanism is “that there are no celebrities attached to it, which means this increase can’t be, we hope, a kind of flash in the pan. It must be instead a gradual awakening to the basic principles of the work.”

But that is not to say shamanism has not adapted to the modern world, says Leo Rutherford, the founder of Eagle’s Wing Centre for Contemporary Shamanism.

“One example is that shamanism has to adapt to take into account the fact that modern day people have uniquely difficult childhoods compared with the ancients, who grew up in community,” he says.

In her online community of at least 10,000 shamanic followers from across the world, McCrimmon counts NHS doctors, university lecturers, social workers and the chair of a multi-academy trust.

“When I opened up to shamanism, I was an accountant in charge of a board of 10 people,” she says. “Shamanism helped me to see the business I was running as an entity, into which I could bring an intention of peace. I used to spend a few minutes in the meeting room before people arrived, setting the intention to peace and gentle resolution. It made a huge difference.”

Because shamanism is still niche, says McCrimmon, the thread that connects her community is an intense search to make sense of their place in the world. “Often people are really desperate when they get to me,” she says. “Those who find shamanism have often tried every other avenue.

“They’re depressed, anxious, stressed, feeling disconnected from life and having trouble with relationships,” she adds. “Shamanism brings them into a place of gratitude, openness, kindness and compassion.”

Shamanic followers do not generally seek to make themselves known in their everyday life. “There should be nothing glamorous or mysterious in the way that people who practise shamanism present themselves,” says Buxton. “The work itself is so profoundly, exquisitely mysterious that we have to be just completely normal – invisible – in our presentation.”

For me, however, the drums and rattles fail. I don’t know if my spirit guides were distracted by the lorries bouncing over the speed bumps outside my window, but they prove laggardly.

But it is not shamanic to question the guides, McCrimmon cautions. “It is key to have no attachment to the outcome of the ceremony. You simply surrender into the loving arms of the universe,” she says.

She consoles me for my lack of visions by revealing that she saw images on my behalf: an egg cracking, the shell peeling away, and an acorn – a seed of joy. It is unexpectedly touching.

National

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2022-12-03T08:00:00.0000000Z

2022-12-03T08:00:00.0000000Z

https://guardian.pressreader.com/article/281891597300249

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