Tribal and Ritual Elements of Contemporary Doof Culture.

Tribes all around the world have used ecstatic dance, percussion, entheogens and the creation of a sacred ritual space to assist in the facilitation of transcendent experiences. However, these key factors which can be used to induce a trance state are not limited to tribal rituals. On the 12th of February 2010, the 5th annual EarthFreq Festival officially began, with a dance performed by the traditional owners of the land, and a group meditation. EarthFreq is an outdoor trance festival (doof) located at Landcruiser National Park, 40 minutes north of Kilcoy. A gathering of people from all walks of life, many were drawn to the event by its spiritual focus, natural setting and the promise of a wide variety of music ranging from psytrance to jazz. In this essay, I discuss some of the key elements of ritual present in outdoor trance parties and ways in which they assist with invoking ecstatic and religious experiences. Additionally, I will outline the similarities between tribal rituals and those present in doof culture.

Upon arriving at the festival I experienced the familiar sensation of leaving the outside world behind. It was Victor Turner (1969) who first spoke of separation as 'stage one' in the ritual process, and of the liminoid state (a variation on the term liminal – with liminoid referring only to voluntary practices). Despite the fact that arriving at an Australian trance festival might seem far removed from traditional rights of passage in a tribal context, the sensation of stepping over an invisible line into another world is very real indeed. Bahktin wrote that “ while carnival lasts there is no other life

outside it. During carnival time life is subject only to its laws, that is, the laws of its own freedom” (1968: 7) At a doof, this is very much the case. Right there in the middle of the bush there is a small town, complete with markets, cafes, hospital tent and performance areas, all elaborately decorated.

This decoration is part of the process of creating a sacred, other worldly space for the festivities. Often, one of the organizers will lead some kind of ritual, giving thanks to the land and guiding patrons in a grounding, connection and protection exercise or meditation. This is done with the intention of facillitating a spiritual connection to the space while ensuring the etheric safety of all in attendance, based on the principals of Pranic Spirituality. Although commonly known as 'New Age Thinking' many of the beliefs and practices which fall under the umbrella of 'Pranic Spirituality' have been used in Traditional Chinese Medicine as well as Hindu practice and Shamanic ritual for hundreds of years. Nevertheless, this ritual serves to make sacred the space in which the festival is held, and bring patrons together in a sense of oneness. As noted by Strong, Australian doofs are places where “people of all races, sexualities and cultural backgrounds can come together.” (2001)

As night falls, a transformation takes place on many different levels. Des Tramacchi describes the various forms of transgression that take place in a doof environment. He notes that transgression of identity can be achieved through metamorphosis. Just like traditional Shamans employ the use of masks as a method for transgression, many 'doofers' are renowned for their elaborate dress and characterization (often as a faerie, elf or other mystical creature) which facilitates a similar transformation. Some people at doofs also participate in illegal activities, normally in the form of consumption of psychoactive substances. It seems that “transgression of laws provides a valuable mechanism for transcending the logic of the everyday.”(Tramacchi, 2001: 283)

Therefore, illegal activity such as drug taking is “frequently one of the ingredients in the category disruption that is the central mechanism of liminality.” (Tramacchi, 2001: 283)

What follows is an experience like none other. While some people choose to consume psychoactive substances to assist the process, it is not a necessity. The trance inducing qualities present in much of the music play a significant part in facilitating 'peak experiences' (Maslow, 1976). Like in many tribal cultures, repetitive, methodical percussion plays a large part in much psytrance music, a popular choice at trance parties. A peak as I have experienced it is not dissimilar from a sexual climax. It is when one's heart is filled with such an intense joy, when everything seems possible - and when the happiness and excitement felt is so overwhelming that one fears they might explode. It is important to note that this is not exclusively a drug induced experience. In fact, the most powerful peak experience I have ever had took place while in a meditative state, achieved through ecstatic dancing and without the assistance of substances. Ecstatic dancing is something common in both tribal cultures and in a doof environment, and the potential for trance is undeniable. During most tribal ceremonies, the shaman will guide the trance of his community, by guiding the drummers and therefore the music.

In this way also, a doof in not dissimilar, however, in this environment, the single person with the most control at any one time is the DJ. Hutson speaks of 'technoshamanism' the term given to the process of manipulating the trance state of many through the use of the digital music medium. He notes that “the goal of techno-shamanism according to the ravers is “phase locking” - this is to get the group of people assembled at the rave into a synchronized, synergetic, collective mental space or vibe (Hutson, 1999). This concept of collectivity also falls under Turners definition of 'communitas'. That is, an intense community spirit, where there is a feeling of equality, togetherness and connection. Communitas is a characteristic of that which is experienced by people sharing in a liminal state. It occurs both in tribal environments and at places such as trance parties, where there is a great sense of oneness and collective intention.

It is this intention that sets a doof such as Earthfreq apart from a warehouse rave or house party. Consciousness and spirituality are as a general rule, valued and accepted. Many people gather to celebrate the earth and nature, and doofs are often held in honour of Celtic and Pagan Festivals. “Participants will often celebrate celestial events (e.g. the full moon or a total solar eclipse) or... to celebrate seasonal transitions.” (D 'Andrea, 2007: 6)

Many people I have spoken to have had profound transcendent experiences in a doof environment. I have found personally that my life has improved significantly since experiencing the transcendent state. I feel more connected to myself, I have more self worth, greater acceptance of trials and tribulations, less fear, improved healing ability and a greater capacity for joy. The transcendent state has been valued by societies all around the world for its health and spiritual benefits and doofs are just one way in which some of these understandings have filtered through to the urban western world.

Earthfreq 2010 was just one of many Australian trance festivals or doofs, which employ many of the ritual elements present in tribal culture. A sacred space is created, there is a transgression of identity and metamorphosis through costume, on the part of the participants, ecstatic dancing to percussive music, entry into a liminal phase of transcendence, a sense of communitas, collective intention and often, use of entheogenic substances. These factors ensure that a doof is more than just a party, but a liminoid gathering of spiritual significance where “love, joy and fulfillment stand at the fore.”

Rebecca Caine 2010

Investigating Hot Yoga

“All we ask is that you stay in the room,” the yoga instructor told us, the beginners, before we entered the studio. One would think that would be the easiest part of the 90-minute Bikram Yoga class, but that person would be underestimating the strain of hot yoga. Bikram Yoga is a form of Yoga started by Yogiraj Bikram Choudhury, emphasizing the physicality of yoga rather than the meditative. However, as many yoga teachers, as well as other “wise men and women” will repeat, ‘Where the mind goes, the body will follow,’ and in this scenario the reverse is also true. The Bikram style relies on a set series of 26 poses and 2 breathing exercises, repeated exactly each class. Each pose, like those in most yoga styles, starts simple and becomes more complex. The room temperature can vary from 95 to 115 degrees Fahrenheit. That is, indeed, hot yoga. Bikram Yoga makes a name for itself as healing your body as it works all of your muscles, tendons, ligaments, and joints, which can be helpful in avoiding, or recovering from, injuries. The constant effort of the thyroid gland stimulates metabolism and blood-sugar balance, and many of the yoga poses have long been known to aid in stress reduction and mental clarity, as well as stress relief (Millado 2010). Sweating out the “toxins”, physical or psychological, in your body can be helpful as well.

In meditative yoga, the patterned breathing, ascetic stillness, and concentrated control can lead to altered states of consciousness, or trance states. In Bikram, if you do not concentrate on breathing, you will pass out. The heightened concentration on your inner and outer physicality initiates its own level of trance state where you are aware of nothing but your own body in space and time. Thus, one may think of it as a much more focused and high-energy form of an ordinary state of consciousness. Meditative trances of Indian yogis can be characterized by dissociation, a definite side-effect, I found, of over-association in Bikram, as well as auditory and visual religious hallucinations (Castillo 2003). Because of this aspect of yoga, Bikram has been documented to have some negative effects such as psychosis characterized by hallucinations after feeling dehydrated, eating poorly, and losing sleep (Lu and Pierre 2007). However, the class in which I took part was very competently led and I felt very safe and able to continue at my own pace, especially as it was completely normal for beginners to have to stop and rest as the more experiences members continued. A key element to this yoga class was that the poses were relatively fast and the instructor never stopped talking. Even as poses were being held, she continued to encourage and correct very quickly, her voice becoming a line for my ears to follow to prevent distraction.

There is repetition in the words she uses, as well as in the class itself, two sets of each pose, and the collective of Bikram yoga in that the exact process is repeated each class. This becomes a ritual, as does the laying down of the mats and towels, the preliminary stretching in the mirrors, and the instructor granting ending to the 90 minutes with a gentle, “Namaste.” Of course, this was my first class. The heat was stifling, fifteen minutes in and everyone was dripping with sweat. By the end of the fourth pose I nearly passed out. My ears buzzed, my vision swam, I felt like the boiling air did not have enough oxygen to go around. My extremities tingled and felt full of lead. “That’s normal,” she said, “Feeling faint, dizzy, as though you might throw up, that’s how you should be feeling.” Deprivation and physical discomfort are both common prerequisites to some types of trance, and are well demonstrated in this type of yoga. Even when you rest, you sweat. Through the pain though, the instructor reminded us of the benefits of Bikram to our minds and our bodies, benefits that would continue to manifest themselves into old age, such as strength of spine. She pointed out that 30 seconds in the 23^rd and 24^th poses (Head to Knee Pose with Stretching Pose, or Janushirasana with Paschimottanasana) can energize a person more than a full eight hours of sleep can. My roommate has had experience with hot yoga and she previously described to me how when the heat is on, there is no way to concentrate on anything besides your breathing and your body and your position. I found this declaration to be the case absolutely- even when I could no longer hold a pose and relaxed back onto my knees, breathing deeply through my nose, there was no room in my mind for any kind of thought or worry.

In this meditative and deprived aspect, trace, and obviously healing, is certainly possible. Yoga is, however, a lifestyle as well as a ritualized part of the day, as Tom Pilarzyk reminds, in that it leads to, “…reconnecting with a daily intention; checking our seated posture; watching the turning of our minds and the straying of our thoughts; welcoming difficult situations that test our resolve to stay present…reminding ourselves to breathe deeply, stay with the flow of energy…” (Pilarzyk, x). Harmonizing oneself with the world is not only an effect of yoga, but of many trance mechanisms, including the use of entheogenic substances.

On a personal level, it is important to me that my trance activity manifest itself in my physical day-to-day life, that is to say that my body does in fact follow my mind. Trying Bikram Yoga, or even the yoga I do more regularly, satisfies this requirement as having physical requirements and results. Beyond strengthening my muscles for the present and future, I do, after one class, feel more energized than if I napped all afternoon. It became very clear to me in this class that to find balance physically, which many poses required, one must find balance mentally, with a neutral mind. It seems that once one is advanced enough to continue the postures through the sensual symptoms described above without acknowledging his/her body’s demand for release, they go into a hot yoga trance, not extricating him/herself until the ritual is complete. In this vein, the origins of yogic practice involve shamanic practitioners searching for a deeper relationship with their inner natures than could be acknowledged in their own culture, and would often do so by isolating themselves in nature, often forests or caves (Stapleton, xiii), a familiar facet of trance.

In today’s fast-paced and highly socialized world, we are constantly bombarded with stimulation directed at all of our five senses. Thus, though the heat and difficulty of Bikram Yoga was certainly disoriented, it initiated a much-needed mental and physical cleansing for this beginner yogi. With further repetition and ritual, this method of trace could become addictive, a necessary part of life to keep myself in balance with my own blood and body, and to keep myself in balance with the natural world.

References:

Castillo, R.J. (2003). Trance, functional psychosis, and culture. Psychiatry: Interpersonal & Biological Processes 66(1), 9-21.

Lu, J.s. and Pierre, J.M. (2007). Psychotic Episode Associated with Bikram Yoga. American Psychiatric Association 164 (11), 1761.

Millado, N. (2010). Stretch Yourself. Men’s Fitness 26(4), 60-62.

Pilarzyk, Tom. Yoga Beyond Fitness: Getting More That Exercise from an Ancient Spiritual Practice. Wheaton: Quest Books, 2008.

Stapleton, Don. Self-Awakening Yoga: The Expansion of Consciousness through the Body’s Own Wisdom. Rochester: Healing Arts Press, 2004.

Sufis and Trance: Self-Knowledge from Experience and Why Altered States of Consciousness Bring Practitioners Closer to God

This report presents observations from four visits to a gathering of Namatollahi Sufi practitioners at a private residence in Oxley, Brisbane, in April 2010. This paper will discuss the rituals and gestures observed during those meetings and explain the significance and ascribed meaning for the practitioners. The means by which altered states of consciousness (ASC) are achieved will be briefly examined and the complex layers of outcomes desired by advanced Sufi practitioners when they enter a state of trance explored. Finally, this report will discuss the relevance of social and cultural artifacts in ASC, emphasising that the ASC experience cannot be separated from the socio-cultural context in which it occurs.

It is first necessary however, to provide a brief definition of Sufism and to address some popular myths surrounding it. Embedded within Sufi philosophy is that “all answers lie within the self, deep in the heart” (Azmayesh, 2002; p.15) and Sufism’s emphasis on personal development through experience suggests its nature is individual rather than collective. Azmayesh (2002) defines Sufism as “a set of personal practices…designed to help the follower develop hidden and unexploited capacities, with the goal of developing knowledge of the self and the visible and the invisible world and guiding the seeker or “traveller” along the spiritual path… ultimately acquiring truths of his existence and a certain vision of the world.” (p. 14). While Sufism is considered by many as the ‘mystical branch of Islam’ – in much the same way as the Kabbalah is to Judaism (Matt, 1996) – Sufism does not require conversion to Islam or any other belief system, save that of “the belief in the existence of divinity, of an invisible world, and of the immortality of the soul.” (Azmayesh, 2002; p. 14). Another widely-held fallacy is that all Sufi practitioners engage in trance dancing akin to the Whirling Dervishes from central Turkey. Whilst all Sufis believe that union of the body and soul leads ultimately to re-union with God/The Divine Spirit, they contend this can be accomplished in various ways, and indeed several techniques to elicit ASC were simultaneously employed by the Namatollahi practitioners in Oxley. Specific techniques will be discussed in detail later in this report; however, the principle underlying Sufi trance is that the expression and appreciation of love and beauty brings about self-transcendence and connection to the Divine.

All student practitioners at the Oxley Sufi gathering were Caucasian, and the majority were native English speakers born in Australia, New Zealand, England and Scotland, and more than 40 years of age. There were also two Persian student practitioners (one male, one female), who were younger than the majority. Furthermore, the ‘teacher’ was in his sixties, Iranian-born and had been living in Australia for sixteen years. Meetings were held weekly on Sunday evenings, and although attendance was ad hoc, there were eight students present at each gathering, with equal numbers of males and females attending. It was observed that those who attended most regularly were male and played a musical instrument. It was also noted that few women played a musical instrument, and many were reluctant to play the drums provided to accompany the musicians (sitar and flute). Both Persian practitioners played the sitar, however, the male practitioner attended more frequently than the female.

The gathering was facilitated by ‘teacher’ and Sufi ‘master’, Mr. Amir Mozzaffri, who most frequently performed technical functions (such as turning music and lights on and off; inviting a new attendee to take a cushion through gesture) and gave few, if any, direct instructions to the participants. Although Sufism acknowledges the private and sacrosanct relationship between student and teacher, it does not insist the teacher is omnipotent. Instead, followers are encouraged to “develop the capacities to discover for [himself] themselves the answers to [his] their existential questions.”(Azmayesh, 2002; p. 15). Nonetheless, in much the same way as those learning tantric yoga require the guidance of a “master” who has walked the same path to assist their students navigate the union of body and soul (Yeshe, 1987), Sufism “requires many years of exercises punctuated with successive spiritual stages that are always under the responsibility and surveillance of a competent guide or ‘master’ who knows, having experienced it himself.” (Azmayesh, 2002; p. 15).

It was thus apparent that each student had individual practice aims which were executed in the group setting. Whilst the ‘community’ of practitioners is important, practitioners do not actively participate in each others’ spiritual evolution, and collective teaching is practically forbidden (Azmayesh, 2002). Furthermore, group meetings are not regarded as social meditation (e.g., the AUM Meditation, Appendices A&B), nor are practitioners considered ‘mirrors’ of each other to facilitate self-knowledge (Carrivick, 2005). Nonetheless, humility is considered an essential character trait in the Sufi adherent, and regarded as an attribute that should be practiced in a social context as well as in one’s own relationship with God. Philosophically, Sufis believe there is no difference between Oneself, The Other and God, but from a procedural viewpoint, Sufism teaches that practising humility facilitates release of the ego, which in turn separates the veils of illusion between the material and immaterial worlds and brings the practitioner closer to God/The Divine.

In stark contrast with the humility demonstrated by Sufi ‘master’, Mr. Amir Mozzaffri, participants at a different Sufi gathering held in Woodridge, Brisbane, insisted that the “dreams of the student belonged to the teacher” and emphasised other matters of personal spirituality as being the property of the teacher, much in the same way that some interpretations of passages in the Qur’an and the Christian Bible insist that women’s spiritual development is ultimately the dominion of their husband or closest male relative (Karmi, 1996; Schleuter, 1997). At the Woodridge meeting, this seemed to a means of imposing discipline amongst the students and establishing the teacher’s authority, and was thus rejected for further study.

The meeting room in Oxley was plainly decorated with neutral paintwork and similarly neutral-coloured wall-to-wall carpeting. Rectangular foam floor cushions upholstered in white cotton were arranged around the perimeter of the room. Stretching across one wall were low wooden bookshelves varnished in mahogany woodstain and containing books pertaining only to Sufism. When I asked about the meaning of observed “rituals in this sacred space”, the Sufi ‘master’ denied any ritual was performed, and also refuted the sanctity of the space. Sometime later, however, he conceded the presence of ritual but insisted the space itself is “...just a room, it’s the people inside who are sacred.” (personal communication with Mr. Amir Mozzaffri, Sunday, March 28, 2010).

An observed ritualistic gesture performed by a few practitioners was to touch the ground, then touch the side of their head (right temple) upon entering and exiting the meeting space. Exiting the room involved going out backwards, as turning one’s back on fellow practitioners was considered contrary to the intent of gesture, which signified humility in the face of ‘superiors’ (which all those present are judged to be) and respect for the ‘community of practitioners’. Some expanded the gesture to include kissing their fingers in between touching the ground and touching their heads, to indicate love as well as respect. However, the majority present did not perform the gesture and, furthermore, did not exit the room in the ‘unusual’ way. But this was not deemed rude. Each was free to do whatever they felt appropriate.

A ritualistic gesture employed by the majority was clasping the right wrist with the fingers of the left hand while seated and in meditation. The gesture signifies the heart (left hand) providing gentle restraint to the mind (right hand) (personal communication with Mr. Amir Mozzaffri, Thursday March 18, 2010). However, no explicit instructions were given concerning gesture – the onus appeared to be on the student practitioners to enquire about or perform any ritual or gesture, if and when they desired. Approximately half the practitioners wore white clothing, and it was apparent this too was a matter of personal choice, though probably did indicate the practitioner’s commitment.

An important ritual was service of the tea, which occurred perhaps four or five times during the two-hour long meeting. Once again, when I asked about the ‘tea ritual’, the presence of ritual was denied. What was emphasised, however, was the ‘intent’ held by the server towards his fellow practitioners. Rich honey-coloured tea was served in tiny clear glasses on a silver tray, accompanied by biscuits and dates. The server offered the tray to each practitioner in turn, who took a small saucer and placed it and the tea glass in front of them on the floor. Sugar, dates and biscuits were then offered from the same silver tray and the practitioners placed their selection on the saucer beside their glass. This was all done in complete silence, save for the gentle tinkling sound of glass against saucer and spoon against glass. For the main part, the server’s eyes were cast downwards, though communicating thanks and sufficiency was surprisingly unproblematic. I silently observed that the taste of the tea was particularly pure and seemingly without any tannic aftertaste. After the meeting I was moved to comment upon its qualities, but was assured that the tea was actually a very cheap and bitter brand. The humility of the person preparing and serving the tea was believed to positively affect the tea’s taste.

The meeting was conducted similarly at each occasion, comprising a half-hour meditation to classical Persian and Sufi music – usually instrumental, though sometimes vocal recordings were played instead. Poems were read by the students either before or after the meditation. Discussion arose only if a student had a specific question; the program did not routinely include formal analysis of the texts. The second hour was dedicated to a brief reflective ‘talk’ given by the Sufi ‘master’ on a topic that arose from those poems followed by live musical performance and singing. Music, like dancing, is particularly emphasised by Sufis as a means of reaching ecstatic trance. Similarly repetitive chanting and poetry are employed to induce an ASC, certainly in part because they reflect the culture in which Sufism is situated (Islamic Persia). Sufis enter into trance states using textual (poetry), visual (meditation) and sensory (music/chanting/dance) stimuli; the first and second stimuli tend to predominate in Western culture, but the third is more frequently identified with shamanic cultures (Hume, 2007), although cultural synthesis has been evident since the establishment of land trade routes and the concomitant exchange of not only goods, but also of cultural artifacts and traditions.

Hume (2007) argues that ASC are achieved through culturally prescribed methods which use one or any combination of the senses as well as devices designed to stimulate the senses. Indeed, I experienced my breath being taken away by the poem, ‘The Song of the Reed’, by Sufi poet Jalaluddin Rumi (Appendix C), which was read aloud with remarkable feeling by one of the student practitioners. Furthermore, I entered an ASC when chanting, “Yo, Ali” repetitively to music. However, neither the reader’s skill nor the poignancy of the words themselves generated the ASC – otherwise I would have experienced this on the other occasions when I heard poetry read aloud. Likewise, if chanting on its own was capable of eliciting an ASC, then singing would have produced an ASC at other times. Consequently, when examining ASC, it is critical to include the social context the ASC occurred. Separating an ASC from the context it occurs reduces the ASC experience to a series of biological responses that can be measured and quantified. However, some researchers (Winkelman, 1997) acknowledge there are universal stimuli which elicit a trance response as well as admitting that ASC are determined by the environment in which they occur. My experience not only concurs with Jilek’s (2005) assertion that ASC can be achieved through sustained and repetitive rhythmic stimuli, but also supports Desjarlais’ (cited in Hume, 2007) view that culture is critical to the ASC experience. Indeed, Desjarlais (cited in Hume, 2007) found that even culturally unfamiliar stimuli could invoke ASC through acculturation.

Whilst an experiential state is considered by Sufis as the pathway to becoming ‘One with God’, there are nonetheless multiple layers of outcomes from the trance state, dependent on the practitioner’s knowledge and skill. Sufism teaches that an invisible and sensory world containing supernatural and paranormal phenomena exists which may be perceived by the soul, if techniques such as ASC are employed (Azmayesh, 2002). Perception of the paranormal however, is not a specific goal of Sufism. Azmayesh (2002) explains that as the practitioner develops the potential of their unique soul through awareness of their own experience, they achieve self-knowledge which brings forth a higher level of consciousness. This higher consciousness gives rise to perceptive capacities beyond that observed by the ‘ordinary’ five senses. The result is personal and experiential knowledge of a world beyond the physical realms, which lifts the veils between the material and invisible worlds. Poetry, for example, like the practice of humility, is considered by the Sufis as a means by which the veils between the visible and invisible worlds can be dissolved, thereby bringing the practitioner closer to God/The Divine. However, satisfying any questions arising in the novice student’s rational mind is emphasised at first. Sufis assert that not until all mental constructs are wholly addressed can the student practitioner move into an experiential state (personal communication with Mr. Amir Mozzaffri, Thursday April 15, 2010) in the same way that Hume (2007) discusses moving from a “less cognate, more sensate” epistemology to understand cultural phenomena (p. 2).

Sufis believe that the dissolution of the veils between both worlds is an important technique in achieving re-union with The Divine Spirit by perceiving (knowing) the soul as unattached to the physical universe. In their view, mastery of perceiving invisible realms not only assists the soul’s re-union with God, but also assists the soul transcend the physical body at death (and any attachments to a material existence). It also assists the practitioner consciously and voluntarily leave their physical body during meditation and while dreaming. Indeed, in the same manner that a shaman can occupy both the mundane and the spiritual realms and act with conscious awareness and control in both (Harner, 1990); an advanced Sufi practitioner can “show himself on one level and act at the same time in the other world” (Azmayesh, 2002 p. 41). Importantly, while dreams are regarded as indicators of the student practitioner’s spiritual progress, and are used by the teacher to direct the student along his unique spiritual journey, Sufis are directed to live in the real world, and not in the world of dreams (Mozzaffri, 2010). Mozzaffri (2010) insists that the Sufi’s role is to be a useful member of society by serving fellow human beings; nonetheless the emphasis is noticeably on the ‘human’ world rather than the ‘natural’ world. This attitude can be understood as a reflection of the humanistic culture from which the Sufi tradition emerged.

Indeed, when examining cultural artifacts, it is both impossible and imprudent to separate the artifact from culture. Rituals may be subtly or overtly executed, and sometimes those performing rituals are unaware of ritualistic gestures because they are embedded within the context they occur and thus unable to be perceived as separate phenomena. Whilst it is possible to ‘essentialise’ an ASC experience by reducing it to simple, biological elements, unless the socio-cultural context is incorporated, true understanding of ASC cannot be realised. For Sufis, trance states enhance their connectedness with God; however, those from another cultural tradition might simply view an ASC as a shift to the transcendent and perhaps even without any religious significance.

References

Azmayesh, SM 2002, The Teachings of a Sufi Master, Simorgh Sufi Society, New York.

Carrivick, AD 2005, Veeresh: Bliss Beyond Fear (2nd ed), Koregaon Publications, Germany.

Harner, M 1990, The Way of the Shaman, (3rd ed), HarperCollins Publishers, New York.

Hume, L 2007, Portals: Opening Doorways to Other Realities through the Senses, Berg, Oxford/New York.

Jilek, WG 2005, ‘Transforming the shaman: Changing Western views of shamanism and altered states of consciousness’, Medigraphic, vol. VII, no. 1, pp. 8-15.

Karmi, G 1996, ‘Women, The Qur’an and patriarchal interpretations’ in M Yamani (ed), Feminism and Islam: Legal and Literary Perspectives, New York University Press, New York, pp. 69-83.

Matt, DC 1996, The Essential Kabbalah: The Heart of Jewish Mysticism’, Harper, San Francisco.

Mozzaffri, A 2010, ’Darvish Information’, Unpublished, Queensland.

Schleuter, CJ 1997, ‘Revitalizing interpretations of Ephesians 5:22’, Pastoral Psychology, vol. 45, no. 4, pp. 317-339.

Wilkelman, M 1997, ‘Altered States of Consciousness and Religious Behaviour’ in S Blazier (ed), Anthropology of Religion, Greenwood Press, Connecticut, pp. 393-428.

Yeshe, Lama 1987, Introduction to Tantra: A Vision of Totality, Wisdom Publications, Boston.

Appendix A

In 1975, Osho gave his student and devotee Veeresh D. Yuson-Sánchez the AUM Marathon to use in his work helping others. After many years working with the AUM Marathon, Veeresh created a condensed version of the 5-day AUM Marathon as a gift to his master Osho, which he called the AUM Meditation.

Following is the promotional text for the Osho Humaniversity AUM Meditation taken from the Osho Humaniversity Meditation Leadership Booklet (2007):

The Osho Humaniversity AUM Meditation is a 2 ½ hour guided tour through thirteen different aspects of being human. It is a social process in which you function as a mirror to each other to become more aware about yourselves, your feelings, and your attitudes towards life.

The process takes you from negativity to positivity, from anger to love, from catharsis to stillness, to finally bring you back into your centre. Then, you will understand that you are a unique and loveable human being. The final goal is friendship.

The Osho Humaniversity AUM Meditation is a social process to help you discover who you are by exploring the full range of your emotions. It will help you transform stress into creativity and well-being. The goal is to make friends with yourself and others.

The Osho Humaniversity AUM Meditation is a guided journey through your emotional life. It uses a range of techniques from catharsis to meditation in a group setting. It will help you transform stress and painful emotions into creativity and well-being. The goal is to make friends with yourself and others.

Appendix B

Following is a brief summary of the thirteen stages of the AUM Meditation:

• “NO” (requires shouting the phrase, “I hate you” to participants in turn, and then freely associating with the words and person facing you)

• “I’m sorry if I hurt you…” (meet all, or as many participants as possible, look into their eyes and say the words with genuine feeling)

• “I love you” (say the words and embrace all participants in turn)

• Second wind (physically going beyond that which you think possible)

• Kundalini (moving sacral energy through the body to connect to your creative force)

• Freak out (facing your fears of going crazy by letting go in a safe environment)

• Dancing (celebrating that self-transcendence has taken place by expressing elation through physical movement)

• Crying (with one partner, holding each other in a seated embrace)

• Laughing (demonstrating the possibility of rapid movement from an opposite emotional state)

• Dance of the lovers (connecting to one’s sexuality and discovering means of freely expressing it in the group)

• AUM chanting (generating spiritual group energy through sound)

• Wowing (observing the radiant beauty that exists within yourself)

• Namaste (meeting all participants and bowing with hands in prayer position, saying or communicating the intention: “I recognise the Buddha in you, as I recognise the Buddha in me”)

Appendix C

The Song of the Reed (part one) from The Mathnawi (Book 1) of Jalaluddin Rumi

1. Listen to the reed how it tells a tale, complaining of separations.

2. Saying, "Ever since I was parted from the reed-bed,
man and woman have moaned in (unison with) my lament.

3. I want a bosom torn by severance,
that I may unfold (to such a one) the pain of love-desire.

4. Every one who is left far from his source
wishes back the time when he was united with it.

5. In every company I uttered my wailful notes,
I consorted with the unhappy and with them that rejoice.

6. Every one became my friend from his own opinion;
none sought out my secrets from within me.

7. My secret is not far from my plaint,
but ear and eye lack the light (whereby it should be apprehended).

8. Body is not veiled from soul, nor soul from body,
yet none is permitted to see the soul."

9. This noise of the reed is fire, it is not wind:
whoso hath not this fire, may he be naught!

10. 'Tis the fire of Love that is in the reed,
'tis the fervour of Love that is in the wine.

11. The reed is the comrade of every one who has been parted from
a friend: its strains pierced our hearts.

12. Who ever saw a poison and antidote like the reed?
Who ever saw a sympathiser and a longing lover like the reed?

13. The reed tells of the Way full of blood
and recounts stories of the passion of Majnun.

14. Only to the senseless is this sense confided:
the tongue hath no customer save the ear.

15. In our woe the days (of life) have become untimely:
our days travel hand in hand with burning griefs.

16. If our days are gone, let them go! – ‘tis no matter.
Do Thou remain, for none is holy as Thou art!

17. Except the fish, everyone becomes sated with water;
whoever is without daily bread finds the day long.

18. None that is raw understands the state of the ripe:
therefore my words must be brief. Farewell!

19. O son, burst thy chains and be free!
How long wilt thou be a bondsman to silver and gold?

20. If thou pour the sea into a pitcher,
how much will it hold? One day's store.

21. The pitcher, the eye of the covetous, never becomes full:
the oyster-shell is not filled with pearls until it is contented.


(London: Cambridge University Press, 1926, translated by RA Nicholson)

Capoeira: Martial Art, Dance, and Trance

by Heather Ehrlich
42286493

Heather Ehrlich
Capoeira: Martial Art, Dance, and Trance
I looked around at my comrades in arms to find them equally drenched in sweat and craving air conditioning. It was gratifying to know that I wasn’t the only one exhausted, as we all glanced longingly at the ceiling fans, wishing they were more effective. Our instructor, saluting with his hand from his heart, said “Salve”, to which we responded in kind. The capoeira lesson was over, but it left me in a calm headspace with a lot to think about.
I chose a capoeira class to experience trance in the every day for several reasons. One of the primary reasons was curiosity: I always wanted to learn a martial art and this one seemed particularly exotic and interesting. Additionally, the idea of the mix of fighting and dancing appealed to me in that I have some experience with and love for the latter. However, beyond personal interest, I remembered a friend in high school who had done capoeira and talked about getting into the rhythm of the dance, and how it was like “going into a trance”. Clearly, this warranted further exploration.
Capoeira originally came into being during the 19th century on Brazilian farms, practiced in secret by African slaves as a form of resistance to the oppressive system of their masters (Talmon-Chvaicer 2004). The practice of martial arts was forbidden them, so it was camouflaged as a dance and hidden in shacks at the edges of the properties. According to Desch-Obi (2006), the martial art can be traced back to traditions in the Angolan highlands of Central Africa in the tenth century as part of an effort for farmers to protect their herds from raiders. They used moves stylized after the fighting methods of their cattle, with heavy emphasis on dodging ability and attacking moves like headbutts. These skills were practiced in rituals with the aid of drumming and song, while two adepts would exchange attacks inside a circle of peers. However, it became more than just a defense mechanism; these practices would take place during events such as rites of passage and healing rituals. With heavy emphasis on movement and agility, it evolved to be more of a dance and exercise in learning to read one’s partner. This had a practical application as well, for traditional sword and shield fighting had little place in the Angolan highlands.
When enslaved Africans were brought to the Americas, they brought this martial art with them. In addition to its use in festivals and as entertainment, it also found a place in religious rituals and initiation societies. In the nineteenth century, as African slavery was slowly faded out, capoeira became a practice of urban initiation societies called maltas, who progressed through the ranks with ceremonial demonstrations of skill at the martial art (Desch-Obi 2006). Today, the art is still going strong and contains many of the traditional elements, which I experienced in class.
I learned capoeira with a group of people at a range of skill levels, which gave me a very good feel for the different places it had in their lives. My friend, Illi, learned the art about 6 years ago (with the same instructor that we had), and had a lot to say on the subject. She said she loved the way capoeira made her feel about herself, as an exercise in both mind and body. It starts with music: in the background the percussion beat and vocals chanted low, foreign tones. The first thing we learned was the ginga, a crouched sway from side to side that is the basic unit of capoeira style fighting. Our instructor said that you could be able to do the best and most complicated kicks in the world, but if you didn’t have a good ginga, you could not be good at capoeira. Traditionally, two capoeira partners face each other and ginga together at the start of every bout. As we made strong, deliberate, yet smooth movements, I could feel my body slipping into the automatic rhythm of the dance. The instructor came by and corrected my form, forcing me to stay conscious of the activity, but I glanced over at my new friend. Her body was tense, but her face relaxed and calm. When we discussed it later, she said she “zones out” and finds a place of calm when doing the ginga; it is very relaxing to her. Muscles aching, I found this difficult to believe, but the serene look that had been on her face told a different story. This whole experience reminded me of Arnold van Gennep’s first two rites of passage, the rite of separation and the rite of transition. As soon as we said “Salve”, we were in the process of separating from our daily patterns and into this other world of capoeira. As the ginga began, the rite of transition was occurring, as we allowed ourselves to fall into the altered state of consciousness embodied by the dance.
This altered state of consciousness, the calm center, is very important to capoeiristas in the throws of the dance. As our teacher explained on the last day of class, most of the performance of capoeira is improved, with the dancers reading each other’s movements to discover their next move. However, it is not about simply blocking or beating your opponent, but instead finding a rhythm with them in which neither is leading or following, but both are in tune with the dance. Angela Miller (2009) says “For me, to do capoeira has meant unlearning a lifetime of rumination, reflection, and interiorized experience of the world.” She hypothesizes that the experience of capoeira is about being truly in touch with living in the moment of the world, and being totally aware of how your surroundings are affecting you. She said it is dangerous to think too much when in the fight-dance, for it is only the body’s memory that will respond well to the cues given by your partner. It is part of the journey to learn how your partner’s movements produce your own, and how conscious learning becomes instinctual. Her writings also reminded me of van Gennep’s rite of incorporation, as she returned to her daily life after bouts of capoeira feeling more in tune with the world.
While I perhaps did not progress enough to experience this, in many little ways I could understand her points. When we finally attempted an un-choreographed dance on our own, I found myself unable to respond at all if I was thinking too hard about what I thought my partner was doing. When I relaxed, and let her movements only register closer to the edges of my consciousness, I was able to dodge far more effectively. This experience was uncanny, as it was very hard to force myself to not focus on avoiding being kicked. In a world that encourages hyper awareness through constantly flashing images and targeted advertisements, letting go and trusting my body was disconcerting (especially given my fledgling experience with the craft).
All of these experiences and the limited research that has been presented on capoeira in modern society have given me many ideas of how it fits into modern society as a form of trance. It clearly has a meditative purpose, as described by Illa, who loved how relaxed she felt after capoeira workouts. It was not just the physical catharsis that we usually experience after a good bout of exercise, but her mind also found a calm space when she just listened to the music and let her body move with it accordingly. She did not have to think for a while; her physical memory was doing the work for her. Most of the time, I was over-thinking my movements, consciously attempting to correct my stance and be aware of the others in the class. It was, however, nearer to the end of class, when I was mostly exhausted, that I was sometimes able to let go a bit and revel in the feel of letting my body experience the dance for itself. Today’s society of psychology and science places so much emphasis on consciousness and self-consciousness that encourages constant awareness and leaves little room for the calm, quiet, and yet thoroughly aware place in the center of a capoeira circle.

Works Cited

Desch-Obi, T. "Capoeira." Encyclopedia of African-American Culture and History, 0002 (2006)

Miller, Angela. "Reciprocity." American Art, 23.1 (2009): 11-12.

Talmon-Chvaicer, Maya (2004) 'Verbal and Non-Verbal Memory in Capoeira', Sport in Society, 7: 1, 49 — 68

Ecstatic States in the Modern Day

Shamanic, ecstatic and transcendent experiences have formed a crucial part of cultures all around the world since the beginning of time. Rituals, both solemn and celebratory have brought communities together, and Shamans have employed a variety of techniques which induce a transcendent state as a means of healing, divination and protection. While the Western World in general has little time for that which lies outside of cultural norms, there are still people who recognise the importance of the spiritual development that these powerful experiences can offer. I will discuss here some of the ways in which Shamanic, ecstatic and transcendent experiences are still significant in contemporary western society, as well as the wider community benefits of these practices.
Meditation is recognised by many as a powerful and beneficial practise which can improve mental and physical health, decrease stress and support evolutionary insight. In fact, even experts in Western medicine have acknowledged the many health benefits of regular meditation. What many do not realise however is that when in deep meditation, we experience an ‘Altered State of Consciousness’ (ASC). Grof (2007) coined the term ‘Holotropic State of Consciousness’ to describe the enhanced state often achieved during “forms of systematic spiritual practice involving meditation, concentration, breathing, and movement exercises” among other things.
Studies into the benefits and healing potential of holotropic and transcendent experiences have produced amazing results. Meditation appears to be especially beneficial for people with stress disorders. Results have shown that mindfulness meditation (most commonly used in Buddhist teachings), can assist those with insomnia, eating, anxiety, panic and phobic disorders (S. Shapiro, Schwartz, & Bonner, 1998). Additionally, it has been shown to enhance perception as measured by perceptual sensitivity, processing speed, empathy, and synaesthesia (Murphy & Donovan, 1997). Transcendent meditation (originally a Hindu practice) is reported to alleviate anxiety, aggression, and recidivism in prisoners and to reduce the use of both legal and illegal drugs (C.Alexander et al., 2003). Several other studies also found that meditation resulted in an increase in empathy, and that consequently, interpersonal functionality and marital satisfaction increased (Tloczynski & Tantriells, 1998). It has been suggested also that meditation is a significant factor in personal development and maturity, with several studies finding that those who meditate regularly score higher on measures of ego, moral and cognitive development, self-actualization, coping skills and defences and states and stages of consciousness (C. Alexander & Langer, 1990).
Outside of the academic realm, personal experience has proven to me that meditation is a incredibly beneficial practise. On days when I meditate, I find myself feeling happier and more energized. I have improved concentration and am better equipped to deal with any obstacles that the day may present. As an energy worker and crystal healer, I often find that I achieve a meditative state far more easily during bodywork and healing practice. My connection to the Divine is never as powerful as when I am participating in the process of healing with energy, and time and time again this practice has proven to be to be beneficial to all involved. In this case, the transcendent state reached serves not only to support mental and emotional growth, but also facilitates significant healing on a physical level, overall improvement of health and minimisation of pain from various ailments. This serves as an example of one of the ways in which meditation can benefit not only the practitioner, but also the wider community.
Members of the general public in general remain unaware of the importance and benefits of transcendent, ecstatic and shamanic experiences. Terms such as Shaman have been known to invoke fear, with images of dark sorcerers and a world of the unknown. This fear is also common at the mention of things such as hallucinogens. What many don’t realise is that these substances have been used since ancient times, in ritualistic shamanic practise, as spiritual tools for healing and divination. The Huichol use Peyote, the South Americans, Ayahuasca. In urban western society, substances such as psilocybin (in magic mushrooms), LSD and DMT serve a similar purpose for some individuals. While these substances are technically illegal, and sometimes used recreationally without the proper respect, those who have experienced their powerful effects often speak of spiritual insights, changes in perspective and profound experiences which have changed their lives for the better.
Controlled studies into the benefits of such substances have yielded amazing results. One such study of the effects of psilocybin noted that for many it “can occasion mystical-type experiences [of] substantial and sustained personal meaning and spiritual significance” (Griffiths, Richards, McCann & Jesse, 2006). This study also found that the significant majority of volunteers “attributed to the experience sustained positive changes in attitudes and behaviour that were consistent with changes rated by friends and family.” (Griffiths et.al., 2006)
My personal experiences with psilocybin and LSD were consistent with these findings. I believe very strongly that the spiritual benefits of these substances far outweigh the physical toll on the body when used with respect and in moderation. The ecstatic state alone, experienced during intoxication, I believe has powerful healing properties and has often left me feeling increasingly positive and at peace for weeks and even months after the fact. Additionally, there is the wealth of knowledge to be gained while in a transcendent state. Grof (2007) based on his research, suggested that “we can obtain information about the universe in two radically different ways: Besides the conventional possibility of learning through sensory perception and analysis and synthesis of the data, we can also find out about various aspects of the world by direct identification with them in a holotropic state of consciousness.” Psychoactive drugs are just another means of achieving this state, and while meditation is the ideal method, these chemicals are able to support a more prolonged and enhanced transcendence which can lead to profound spiritual insights and personal growth. They are a powerful tool chosen by some in the western world and they assist in ensuring that more people reap the benefits of the ever important transcendent and ecstatic states of consciousness.
In conclusion, the importance of shamanic, ecstatic and transcendent states has certainly not decreased with time. If anything, it is more important now that ever that practises such as meditation and respectful use on entheogens be encouraged, not prohibited, as we live in a time where theologies of separateness, individualism and materialism are commonplace, at least in the western world. Ecstatic and transcendent states enhance our connection to the Divine, bring people together, and facilitate healing as well as personal and spiritual development. It is time we spread the word so more people can reap the benefits of these profound and powerful practices.

Rebecca Caine.

Shamanism - Universal or Not? Three Article Reviews by Louise Cosgrove

Article # 1

In “Entrances and Exits” Hume examines various shamanic practices used to access alternate states of consciousness (ASC) via “portals”. Spanning the beginnings of recorded history to the present time, and sampling cultures and religions from around the globe, Hume aims to underscore the common threads found in shamanic techniques which utilize the senses to transcend the bodily realm. Simultaneously, Hume acknowledges that interpretation of the altered state experience remains firmly rooted in the shaman’s subjective cultural context.

The concept of sacred portals appears to have begun in pre-historic times. Anthorpologists consider caves to be sacred pre-historic sights - spaces symbolising transition from one reality to another. Markings differ over the cave entrances from markings within the caves across Africa and Europe, signifying the crossing of a threshold to an alternate reality. In the modern day, we know that cross-culturally, techniques which engage multiple senses are prevalent. These include repetitive sound (eg. music, drumming, singing), movement (eg. dance, rhythmic swaying), and strong smells (eg. burning incense). When combined with a deep concentration, it is suggested these trigger a sensory overload (a neurobiological response) which in turn creates a sense of stepping through the portal into an ecstatic state. The means of opening the gateway to another dimension have much in common. It appears that the effect or ends are similar also, though reported contextually - what a magician may call “conscious union with the indwelling self” a Sufi calls “lifting the veil”.
Hume adds to existing literature by discussing the important role of emotions in ecstatic shamanic experiences. It is suggested that rather than downplaying the emotions experienced by anthropologists due to their “unscientific” nature, these emotions should be analysed as an integral component of understanding and participating in the ASC. At a time when drugs are so problematic in Western society, used as a means of escaping negative emotions, perhaps it is time for shamanic techniques to come out of the fringe and closer to the centre. Hume has laid a solid foundation for those seeking “how to”.

Article #2

In “Shamanism Today” Jane Monnig Atkinson critiques the current modes of Western academic discourse regarding shamanism. In contrast to Hume above, Atkinson’s disdain for the oversimplification of shamanic studies to fit into a universal and hence logical, rational and scientific western paradigm is unambiguous. The dominant Western approach in recent studies has been multi-disciplinary wherein unifying principles are sought. According to Atkinson, these reductionist pursuits have undermined understanding of the diversity of shamanic practice. Since the 1980s there has a renewed interest in the study of shamanism across many fields. Each has vied shamanism through their own lens and rendered conclusions accordingly. For example, psychologists have categorised shamans as dysfunctional personalities or conversely as serving some psychological function within their community. Comparative approaches have viewed shamans only as healers. Parallels drawn with western doctors and psychotherapists, have legitimised the study and hence facilitated Western acceptance. Atkinson emphasises the losses resulting from these convenient approaches – appreciating the broad spectrum of culture, ethnicity and social groups which engage in shamanic practices for a range of reasons.

On a more positive note, Atkinson praises the new age theatrical study of shamanic practice as it emphasises that meaning derived from ritual is “negotiated jointly by performer and audiences”. This epitomises her argument - subjective meaning takes place in its specific context. Thus, drawing parallels and making generalisations diminishes the individual significance of the practice. In her conclusion, Atkinson implores ethnographers to counter the universalists and “devise new ways of being heard”.

Personally I found this article somewhat difficult to digest. It was unbalanced in that it failed to discuss ritualistic similarities in shamanic practices and the universal role of shaman as mediator with the divine realm. A middle path approach could have acknowledged both Western bias as a device to facilitate understanding shamanism through Western eyes and that the meaning derived occurs within its own particular socio-cultural context. The quest for meaning is surely universal regardless of context.

Article # 3

In their 2005 article “Shamanic Journeying Imagery, Constructivism and the Affect Bridge Technique” authors Rock and Baynes pose the fascinating question of whether the images a shaman observes during a shamanic journey are wholly dependent upon the shaman’s subjective life experiences, or are there common elements devoid of the context in which they arise? Previous research advocating both perspectives was examined. They ventured further to ask how could a researcher empirically tease the two apart? To this end they advocated a modified hypnotic technique (stripped of embedded commands normally found in hypnosis) which allows the participant control over the process, whilst being guided to find the original source of the images found during the shamanic journey.

Previous research in this domain begins at one of the end spectrum with “constructivists” who believe that the images experienced by a shaman during trance or journeying are wholly context dependent. That is, the images are a construct arising from of the participant’s religious bias, background, beliefs and culture. For example, ecstatic Christians may report seeing the face of Jesus, Sufis tend to engage with Mohammed, and Buddhists a vision with Gautama. This view fails to explain common elements reported across cultures, time and history. If a parsimonious explanation of this phenomenon exists, perhaps it is a combination of both. Hence the authors discussed their proposed experimental design aimed at disentangling these two aspects – a modified time regression hypnotic technique. A replicable script is provided in text as the basis for future research.

This article left me wanting more. I wanted to know what the research findings were, but they were yet to be conducted. It was well balanced in its presentation of a spectrum of theoretical viewpoints. Rather than proposing a theoretical solution to this “chicken and egg” dilemma, instead a sound practical tool was offered. Could this potentially form the basis of an Honours project?

Shamanic Practices and appropriate ASC in Today's Western Urban Society

An Exploration of the Importance of Altered States of Consciousness in Today’s Western Urban Society
A Review and Reflection by Toby Coates

This paper is focused on the effects of altered states of consciousness (ASC) within shamanic practices, and the use of such methods in today’s western urban society (TWUS). The first section is an exploration of the common themes and messages within three key writings on this subject; being Hume (2007), Peters and Price-Williams (1980), and Winkelman (1997). The second is a personal reflection on this message, and the importance of shamanic ASC experiences in TWUS.

Through this exploration, I will show that the three central readings portray a similar idea: the observation that utilising ASC through shamanic practices is important not only to the wellbeing of the individual, but society as a whole. We must remember this potential, or our disassociation from nature will continue, and a healthy relationship with this planet will move further out of our reach.

Before diving too deep into the topic at hand, it is important to identify my use of the term ‘shaman’. It is used here to illustrate anyone intentionally seeking out an ASC, in which they hope to spiritually mature by enhancing their perceptions of existence beyond that which they are normally accustomed to. ‘Shamanic practices’ are therefore anything intending to induce this state. A further distinction that must be made stems from the fact that we use the term ‘altered’ for many states of consciousness possible within the human mind. The connotations of such a term do not do justice to the ‘heightened’ state of consciousness relevant to shamanic practices. To avoid such undertones, and provide clarity, the form of ASC reached by an effective shaman will be referred to as a ‘shamanic state of consciousness’ (SSC). A similar distinction is made in Noll (1983).

As stated earlier: the three key readings under discussion possess a central theme and send similar messages to the readers. The message to be explored here is that ASC can have irreplaceably positive effects on the human soul and on societies connection with nature, when used with shamanic principles. Shamanist approaches to the positive effects of ASC should not be seen merely as an aspect of the past or other cultures, but something of great importance to spiritual health and our life on this planet.

Winkelman (1997: 393,395) notes our universal and biological attachment to ASC, and along with Farmer (2003) and Noll (1983: 444), mention its importance in healing. The type of healing that can be enjoyed through appropriate ASC – particularly SSC – covers more then the usual consideration of ‘healing’ in TWUS. Rather, it truly encompasses all levels of healing, from spiritual to physical, conscious to subconscious, and individual to communal. As Hume (2007: 5) points out, ASC can generate “union with the divine or deeper levels of consciousness”. Winkleman (1997: 405,416) observes its ability to improve “psychological and physiological well-being in a number of ways”, and generate heightened awareness of the nature of reality. Hume (2007: 3,7) also mentions the ability to use it to better understand the earth and all life on it, and to gain knowledge beyond that attainable in the ‘ordinary’ state of consciousness.

When ASC is used for these positive effects and achieves SSC, it fully awakens ones senses and creates an environment through which one can truly experience the universe. For example, Hume (2007: 3,17) comments on the ability of SSC to expand the shaman’s field of awareness and grant them the “power to see with closed eyes”. As Harvey (2003: 367), Mayes (2005: 330) and Peters and Price-Williams (1980: 398) observe, through SSC, shamans achieve a state of pure ‘ecstasy’. Just as a blind man learns to harness his other senses to ‘see’ in his own special way, a shaman awakens all of his senses to their potential. He does not ‘alter’ his consciousness in the negative sense, but gains his consciousness in the complete sense.

I see this message of the potentials of constructive ASC through shamanic focuses as vital to TWUS. I believe we are losing our relationship with the world we walk on, making this message more vital then ever before (Harvey 2003: 368). Even with the potential effects of appropriate shamanic practices, there still appears to be “a cultural resistance to ASC experiences” in TWUS (Winkleman 1997: 404, 421). Within initial discussions of ASC and shamanic practices, many within TWUS may brush it off as a product of uncivilized or barbaric peoples. Others may fear it, as they perceive it to be against nature or their beliefs. Perhaps these premature conclusions arise from being told that shamans are “weird” (Harvey 2003: 368), “wildly disturbed” schizophrenics, or “mentally deranged” (Peters and Price-Williams 1980: 398). An underlying cause of most resistance to shamanism and relative ASC is a lack of understanding of such practices.

Winkelman (2007: 421) argues that there is a biological need within humans to experience ASC at some times. As society has changed and grown overly complex, people have found alternative methods to cater for this biological urge. For an example one merely needs to remember the effects of alcohol in inducing ASC. Here, we attempt to feed our biological need for an ASC, yet we have forgotten the true potential, and purpose, of this desire. We primitively alter our states of consciousness, rather then following shamanic practices to bring about a heightened state of consciousness, a true SSC.

The issue that lies at the heart of the discussed readings, and at the base of my own heart, is our disassociation with the purpose of ASC. What makes appropriate ASC truly important to the wellbeing of people, and effective as a tool of spiritual harmony and guidance, is an understanding of its purpose and the desire of SSC. We have let go of the journey to SSC and of its true potentials, and in so doing, we have also let go of shamanic practices and our harmonious relationship with nature.

With our unrivaled communication and massive web of information, we are the most informed; yet at the same time we are the most sheltered. It seems that the more we learn, the more we forget. Yet even with these bars in our way, we are the luckiest of all. In other times and other places, it was designated shamans alone who were given the privilege to seek out the spirits and enter an intensely individual ASC. We, on the other hand, have the choice to be ‘mini-shamans’ within ourselves. We have the choice to seek out SSC, using ASC as a means of opening our senses and strengthening our relationship with the nature that is around us – nature that is not just a pretty backdrop, but a connection of living organisms. The experience of opening our minds to the universe through such ASC, and harmonizing our soul with this planet, must be one of the greatest powers of the human spirit.

According to Harvey (2003: 371) the “shaman remains a connection to the pulse of the living world in all the running stream of change.” If we let go of such an invaluable connection and forget the potentials of ASC, we let go of our existence with this planet. We will become separate beings, not only distinct from nature, but truly alone, stranded on a world we have forgotten.




Reference List

• Atkinson, Jane Monnig. 1992. ‘Shamanisms Today.’ Annual Review of Anthropology 21(1): 307-330.

• Farmer, Steven. 2003. Shamanism and the Shamanic Journey. Accessed 30 March 2010. Available at: http://www.drstevenfarmer.com/shamanic-writing/78-shamanism-and-the-shamanic-journey

• Harvey, Graham. 2003. Shamanism: A Reader. London, UK: Routledge.

• Hume, Lynne. 2007. Portals: Opening Doorways to Other Realities through the Senses. Oxford, UK: Berg.

• Mayes, Clifford. 2005. 'The teacher as shaman.' Journal of Curriculum Studies 37(3): 329-348.

• Noll, Richard. 1983. ‘Shamanism and Schizophrenia: A State-Specific Approach to the “Schizophrenia Metaphor” of Shamanic States.’ American Ethnologist 10(3): 443-459.

• Peters, Larry and Douglass Price-Williams. 1980. ‘Towards an Experiential Analysis of Shamanism.’ American Ethnologist 7(3): 397-418.

• Winkelman, Michael. 1997. ‘Altered States of Consciousness and Religious Behaviour.’ In Anthropology of Religion: A Handbook of Method and Theory, ed. S. Glazier. Westport, Conn: Greenwood Press.