(Ruth Parham, who joins this project from the local modern pagan community (Druidic and goddess-based), offers the following thoughts about our shamanism event series.)
I feel very fortunate to be part of this project. My participation is from the perspective of modern paganism (I am involved with the Bristol Goddess Temple and am following the Bardic Grade of the Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids), and within that I am interested in how wellbeing and spirituality intersect – or, more often in our mainstream culture, are not permitted to do so, and the repercussions of this for personal and social health. I found the initial workshop fascinating and inspiring in the way it brought together classical Greek myth, ideas about deity, psychotherapy, anthropology, tarot, shamanism and more, all anchored at the centre (in my mind, at least) by the quest for wholeness and the “right” way to live in this world.
Before taking part in Nick’s sessions, my experience of shamanism was minimal. I had mostly seen it as something that belonged to other cultures (Sami, Latin American), so I found Nick’s description of the principles of core shamanism, which (from my memory of his map) have been identified on every continent, enlightening to say the least. His statement that “our birthright is to communicate with everything that is alive” – which, from an animist viewpoint, means everything in the physical and spiritual dimensions – opened up for me the possibility that, even if we have a broken tradition in Britain, I personally could explore shamanism as an authentic practice. The issue of cultural appropriation was not dismissed, but rather was respectfully put into context.
It is also important to note that shamanism is primarily a healing practice, rather than just being a fun way to extend one’s own personal development; we can all ask questions of Spirit, but those who become particularly good at it can become shamans – or, in Mircea Eliade’s phrase, “technicians of the sacred.” Nick also stated that core shamanism does not require a belief system, although I wonder whether a wholly rationalist and materialist mindset would struggle with it.
I have had experience of other types of journeying, and I found the structure involved in the journeys we took with Nick both slightly restrictive and, at the same time, useful: covering the eyes, dropping into the heart centre, stating an intention three times, seeking out an axis mundi from which to start the journey to the lower world, and making the descent by moving purposefully downwards through a tunnel, all became easier to engage with in each of the three journeys I undertook in Nick’s sessions. And the journeys were meaningful; the landscapes and encounters within them were unexpected and new to me, and the answers to the questions I put have shifted things in my everyday life.
Another effect I have noticed since then, when journeying in other contexts, is that instead of a series of separate locations or events, I am now aware of a continuous layer or dimension which I can visit in different ways or for different purposes. Making connections between elements of disparate journeys – which might take place within a variety of spiritual traditions, whether shamanic, druidic or goddess-based – has resulted in a greater sense of wholeness.
This past Thursday our friends at the Bristol Psychedelic Society invited me to speak and coordinate a ritual as part of their event on Mythology. This event took place at the Cube Microplex, and it was sold out!
It was a privilege to share some research and practical experience with such a large, enthusiastic and participatory crowd.
The myths we were discussing centered on two important Zeus festivals in ancient Attica. The first is called Diasia, and took place in the spring. For Diasia families gave toys to children and the community processed out of the city along the Sacred Way to the altar of Zeus “The Gracious” (μειλίχιος). So far it appears to have been a joyful celebration. There they sacrificed a sheep and burned its body whole in a pit in the earth, without wine, in solemnity. This shift from joy to gloominess was pretty common in ancient Greek festivals. The “fleece of Zeus” wasn’t burned; it had purifying powers, and was used in various other rituals during the year. The second festival was complementary to the first. Around early November the fleece was “escorted” from the city to the same altar of Zeus, now called “The Storming One” (μαιμάκτης). This festival may have been called Maimakteria or Pompaia, but we’re not entirely certain.
In my very short introductory talk, I used the myths, topography, and images associated with these festivals to discuss how meaning and power operate in a living mythical-ritual system. Above all, I wanted to challenge (1) naïve claims about the “purity” of Greek myths, whether we get them from literary or folkloric sources, and (2) simplistic explanations of Greek gods as “god of X.” I tried instead to show how competing and sometimes contradictory understandings and feelings co-existed and co-evolved for Diasia/Maimakteria. I particularly emphasized the following thoughts and feelings: unconditional hospitality; complicity, impurity, and the need to be relieved of this burden; abundance, enjoyment, and hope; fear and trembling. Finally, I foreshadowed the ritual we’d be recreating, noting in particular that anyone who came on stage could become the “offering” of the community (see below).
I noted that the ritual didn’t aim at an “accurate reenactment” of the ancient tradition, which was neither possible nor desirable. Instead, we’d combine ancient inspirations with modern pagan conventions.
It began with the construction of a sacred space through music (“Can’t You See the Bones Leaving?” and “The Fall” from Il Santo Bevitore’s Realm of Consciousness) and donning of ritual garments. Then the “priest of Zeus” invoked the god, who made an epiphany at the altar “outside the city” (on stage). Next the priest announced the god’s presence to the community and exhorted them to process “with trembling hearts and welcoming arms” to the altar on the Sacred Way. The priest and three “procession leaders” then led a joyous dancing procession to the altar.
When the music stopped, the priest closed his eyes and let “the spirit move him” to select the community’s offering. He crawled onto the stage, stood up, and followed his internal vision to the sacrifice. Putting his hand on her forehead, he said, “You are the offering of the community.” There was a powerful effect at this moment. This was self-evident to everyone, but especially for the “victim.” Such an experience raises several questions that are important for our larger project. For instance, what are some plausible neuropsychological and psychosocial explanations for this effect? The anthropologist Tanya Luhrmann in particular has conducted relevant research on ecstatic religion. What then are some metaphysical descriptions that respect those neuropsychological and psychosocial explanations, but also resist being reduced to them? Finally, given these various descriptions of what is happening, what are the resources and dangers in experiences like this for the creation of more meaningful, less distressing, more enjoyable lives?
These are huge questions, but that shouldn’t stop us from asking! Nor should we be afraid that critical analysis harms spirituality. It’s exactly the opposite: the absence of historical, ethical, and political consciousness in pagan ritual, as in other religious and spiritual activities, not only leads to naïveté, but also risks doing harm or nourishing the conditions for abuse of power. This is something I keep explicitly in mind when designing and conducting rituals, though of course I’m a fallible mortal!
The priest now called for a holy silence and invited all citizens who were medically able to sit down right where they were. He announced the community would offer this pure animal to the god, to be consumed whole in fire in this pit, without wine, in solemnity and sobriety. “Do you consent?” he asked the victim. Her manner of consent made everyone laugh, which in no way lessened the power of the ritual. He then gently led her to the sanctum circumscribed by a white rope, where Zeus, hitherto motionless, arose, wrapped her in his dark cloak, whispered reassuring words to her, laid her on the floor, and covered her in a fleece.
I won’t try to summarize the rest of the ritual here, as this blog is already getting pretty long! Suffice to say there was a trance exercise involving the fleece, which was then paraded through the community, with members invited to touch it with their left hands. Some testified later that the fleece gave them a warm, good feeling. This raises another thematic question for our project, namely how objects become “empowered” or “inspirited.” Psychological and spiritual currents aren’t all in the brain, the body, or even the community! They’re also in space, time, and objects. Psychosocially this can be analyzed via extended and enactive psychology and object relations psychoanalysis; metaphysically, it can be approached via object-oriented ontology, object agency theory, or the multidisciplinary field that brings together physicists, psychologists, and parapsychologists.
Again, it’s essential to assert that these analytical approaches absolutely don’t falsify the ritual! It’s also important to admit that they do relatively little to create the power of a ritual. When a ritual works for most of the participants — and I think this one did — this is partly because those designing it have experience and skill, and partly because those participating co-actualize the ritual with their own attitudes, experience, and skills. I’m grateful to Rhodri for embodying the god, to Heidi, Isabel, and Katie, for leading the procession, and to everyone who gave themselves to the the experience.
Tanya Lurhmann is a member of this network, and we look forward to bringing her to Bristol in 2019 or 2020 — funds allowing! I refer above to her book When God Talks Back. There’s a great article on by Nicola Cusumano about Zeus “The Gracious” in Italian, which is available on Open Access here. I couldn’t find any significant analysis of the Maimakteria festival, so I just used the ancient and Byzantine Greek sources, which are obscure. The only one you’ll easily find in English translation is Plutarch, On Restraining Rage, 458C. Just for the cognoscenti, here’s the most important testimony, from Eustathius: οἱ τὸ διοπομπεῖν δὲ ἑρμηνεύοντές φασιν ὅτι δῖον ἐκάλουν κώδιον ἱερείου τιθέντος Διῒ μειλιχίῳ ἐν τοῖς καθαρμοῖς φθίνοντος μαιμακτηριῶνος μηνὸς ὅτε ἤγοντο τὰ πομπαῖα. καὶ καθαρμῶν ἐκβολαὶ εἰς τὰς τριόδους ἐγίνοντο. εἶχον δὲ μετὰ χεῖρας πομπόν· ὅ περ ἦν, φασὶ, κηρύκιον, σέβας Ἑρμοῦ. καὶ ἐκ τοῦ τοιούτου πομποῦ καὶ τοῦ ῥηθέντος δίου τὸ διοπομπεῖν. καὶ τοῦτο μὲν οὕτως ἐξ ἱστορίας. ἄλλως δὲ κοινότερον διοπομπεῖν καὶ ἀποδιοπομπεῖν ἐφαίνετο τὸ, Διὸς ἀλεξικάκου ἐπικλήσει ἐκπέμπειν τὰ φαῦλα. (In Od. 2 p. 291)