“Give us this day our daily bread, says one of the verses of the well-known prayer. Not just the sustenance necessary for survival, but also the bread of transcendence, the one that will nourish the soul. We need both. However, we do not always notice the spiritual meal offered. Often, even when faced with a bountiful table, we turn up our noses for lack of appetite. Unlike the bread that feeds the body, savouring the bread of the soul requires perception, sensitivity, and above all, willingness. At times, beyond the mentioned attributes, valuable creativity is also needed, something fundamental for us to start observing events from a different perspective and thus do things in a way never before thought of. Otherwise, without realising the delightful delicacies we have at our disposal, we will continue starving. Changing the way we live is the only way to alter reality. As in mathematics, this is the equation of life that will lead us to the solution of every existential problem, whatever it may be. However, the essential spiritual transformation, the one that will change our way of being and living, demands great will and dedication. Unlike the bread of the body, already prepared and available on the supermarket shelves, ready to be taken, paid for, and carried home, the nourishment of the spirit usually requires careful preparation,” said Starry Song, the shaman who had the gift of perpetuating his people’s ancestral philosophy through stories and music.
On the porch of his house in Sedona, in the mountains of Arizona, as we talked, he filled the red stone stummel of his unmistakable pipe with tobacco, rocking back and forth in his chair. The shaman illustrated: “I see people coming here in search of magical ceremonies. They want transformation through interdimensional phenomena, the beating of drums, purifying herbs, transmuting bonfires, ancestral songs, secret prayers, but few are willing to do their part. Precisely the most important part.” He waited for the tobacco to burn, puffed a few times before continuing: “Sacred rituals are extremely precious, whether for harmonising the aura and tuning into the subtler astral planes of existence, refining the perception and sensitivity essential for personal transformation, or the guiding words offered. However, a ceremony, like the most powerful of books, in itself, does not change anyone. It only serves to point out an evolutionary path. It is up to the star traveller to walk it with their own feet. There is no other way.”
He furrowed his brows and said, “Most people desire change through the instant action of miracles. Few are willing to undertake the long, yet essential, effort of transformation.” He shrugged and prophesied: “Until there is an inner movement of development, nothing will change.” The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of one of his nieces. With her came a friend, the young Mary, who needed help finding her way out of the existential labyrinth in which she felt lost. With his usual kindness, Starry Song asked them to sit and feel free to speak. The young woman confessed she was living in a very complicated situation. Her marriage had come to an end. The relationship had become unbearable. They didn’t even feel like arguing anymore, she explained. They lived like two strangers in the same house. They only spoke about the essentials, such as groceries and bills to be paid. Even then, with as few words as possible. It was a horrible atmosphere, she admitted. She was willing to leave the house. However, her salary was not enough to afford rent, along with the other expenses necessary for her personal upkeep. In short, she didn’t want to stay, but had nowhere to go. She had tried to find better jobs without success. Although she could ask for temporary shelter at a relative’s or friend’s house, she didn’t feel comfortable living with anyone. She was in an existential labyrinth. Even more seriously, it was a labyrinth with no door. There was no way out. She needed help from other dimensional realms. That’s why she was there.
With a serene and welcoming gaze, Starry Song listened to all the complaints without uttering a word. When the young woman, after finishing her story, added that there was no solution to her problems, the shaman remained silent. His niece urged her uncle to speak. With his usual calm, typical of those who know that all storms not only pass but also serve to change the arid landscape—not always on the surface, but deep down in the roots—he puffed on his pipe and said: “If the young woman says there is no solution to her life, there is nothing left for me to do.” He waited for the smoke to dissolve in the air before adding: “One must believe that every labyrinth has an exit. Otherwise, it will be impossible to find it.”
The niece was indignant at her uncle’s insensitive attitude. Mary’s eyes welled up with tears, and she declared herself abandoned by luck. She said she didn’t understand why there was so much misfortune in her life. I tried to help. I explained that by believing there is always a solution to any problem, we stimulate creativity, a quality as important in art as in life. I quoted an ancient sage who taught the need to draw a door where there had only been a wall. Then, we create the reality for that door to open.
The young women said that my words were beautiful, but useless. “You don’t create reality with poetry,” they said. That’s when Starry Song surprised us: “I will help you. Be here early tomorrow.” His niece pointed out that only Mary needed help. The shaman corrected her with a mix of sweetness and firmness in his voice: “You both need it. So, it will be done.” Pleased, the young women thanked him, promised to return the next day, and left. Once we were alone, I questioned what had happened to make him change his mind and decide to help them. He explained: “Nothing changed. I just made them understand the importance of hope. Tomorrow, I will show them the value of faith.” I said I didn’t understand. Starry Song explained: “In their eagerness to escape, many try to open the doors of the labyrinth by pushing them outwards.” He puffed on his pipe again and concluded enigmatically: “In the labyrinth of life, the doors open inwards. The way out lies at the heart of the problem itself. Never outside it. Life creates sages, not superheroes.”
I wasn’t sure if I understood his reasoning. I hoped that everything would become clearer the next day. Only at night, as I lay down to sleep, did I realise one detail: it was Friday. On Saturday mornings, dozens of people would gather under the oak tree in the shaman’s yard to hear the beautiful stories that narrated the ancestral philosophy of his people. A small sacred ceremony that had become a tradition in Sedona. It was common for people to come from nearby towns, such as Cottonwood, Jerome, or Flagstaff.
Early the next morning, I was still drinking my first mug of coffee when the young women arrived. They were quite excited about the ritual they would participate in, where they would have access to doors they had never imagined before. Gently, Starry Song invited them to share breakfast with us. They accepted and sat at the table with us. As I had reflected on Mary’s difficult situation before falling asleep, I took the opportunity to suggest some alternatives that might serve as a way out of her problems. As I presented them, each one was immediately rejected. One by one, the solutions seemed to be tainted by failure even at their inception. None of the ideas I proposed stood a chance, not even a brief attempt at flight. Like a sniper with every bird in his sights, the young woman shot down each idea as soon as it spread its wings. Every exit was blocked or impossible to pass through. Exhausted, I admitted that Mary’s life had no solution. In silence, Starry Song merely observed.
That was when people began to arrive for the ceremony in the house’s yard. They spread out across the lawn, enjoying the autumn sun that gently caressed their bodies and chased away the morning chill. There was an atmosphere of joy brought on by those memorable gatherings. However, the young women found the activity unusual. Although the niece was aware of the traditional Saturday meetings, she believed her uncle would cancel that day’s gathering to perform a sacred ritual on the mountain top or by the lake, as she had taken part in before. Starry Song explained that sacred is everything that opens the possibility for us to become better people: “For that, love matters more than liturgy.” He asked the young women, when joining the others in the yard, to do so wholly: “None of you should be missing or overflowing. Otherwise, it will be of no use.” Then, he dissolved the frustration that was approaching: “Magic is transformation. If your hearts are present, there will be a beautiful magical ceremony this morning. Otherwise, you will only hear a story. Nothing more.”
After a quick exchange of glances, the young women agreed to fully participate in the small ritual. Sitting in an armchair beneath the oak tree, Starry Song beat his two-sided drum. A gentle song in the native dialect calmed the spirits and invoked the protection of the guardians responsible for the house’s egregore. Then, he began his story: “In a time for which there are no records, there was a village led by a wise, just, and loving shaman. As he had the respect and admiration of everyone, he guided without forcing anyone to follow his advice. Self-determination was respected as an educational method, with each person being responsible for the consequences of their actions. Merit or demerit had their rewarding or reparative consequences. Inexorably. Although it was a time of abundance, with both hunting and harvests plentiful, he intuited that the winter of that year would be much harsher and longer than usual. Difficult days were coming. He asked for a collective effort to build a large barn, where they would store grains and other food. The fruits would first need to be dried, and the meat smoked, to prevent spoilage during storage. However, no one paid attention to the shaman’s request. Either they had more important tasks and could start the construction the next day, since there were still many moons before winter arrived, or they believed there wasn’t much need for a barn. An unnecessary effort. After all, they had lived well so far, going into the forest to find everything they needed. They just had to do what they had always done. No change was necessary.”
Before the attentive audience, Starry Song continued with the story: “That winter was harsher than ever before. It lasted for many more moons; the temperature dropped so low that the forest turned white. The trees had no leaves. Nor fruit. The seeds couldn’t find warmth to germinate. The soil was frozen. The animals disappeared. The tribe’s brave warriors wandered for days in search of game or even a single piece of fruit. On their return, their saddlebags were filled only with discouragement and exhaustion. The village experienced hunger. Like a dreadful entity, hunger is cruel and torments everyone. Imbalance arose, conflicts emerged. The villagers began to accuse each other for the suffering they were enduring. Each person had an excuse for not having built the barn. They were busy with other important tasks and couldn’t take care of all the village’s needs; however, the others could have helped with the construction. With slight, but insignificant, variations, this was the argument of everyone.”
The narrative continued: “Not knowing when the winter would end, or if it would ever end, the arguments and quarrels grew more frequent. Several villagers began to doubt if there would be a new spring. Since childhood, they had heard ancient stories about long periods when Mother Earth remained under ice. Others believed their time in that place had come to an end; that this winter was a message from the Great Creator telling them to seek prosperity in distant lands. Agonised and famished, most of the inhabitants were ready to leave. They chose representatives from each family, formed a committee, and went to inform the shaman of their decision. The leader of the village listened with great patience. Then, he reminded them that they had always been free to direct their own lives. It was an inalienable principle that would continue to guide the tribe. He wished that the Great Creator would protect them during their journey. He then asked where they planned to go. They said they would head north. Someone from the committee reminded them of the dangerous mountain ranges in that direction. They wouldn’t be able to cross while the winter lasted. They spoke of going south. Another villager made them consider the massive river in that direction, with its turbulent waters and treacherous whirlpools, capable of swallowing a cart full of horses in the blink of an eye. They thought of going east. An idea quickly dismissed, as they would have to cross a long and inhospitable desert. No one would survive. The only direction left was west. But that was impossible, as they would have to traverse the territory of wild and hostile tribes. They argued for a long time. Aggressive at first, resigned in the end. We have nowhere to go, declared one of the committee members.”
Starry Song observed the people seated on the grass for a few moments before continuing: “The village leader reminded them: When we don’t know where to go, it often means that, despite our dissatisfaction, our heart wants to stay. If the desire to leave is sincere, the obstacles will be seen as challenges to overcome. In the immaturity of will, when it is truly an escape rather than a path, the obstacles will appear as insurmountable barriers.” One of the villagers asked the shaman what the difference was between an escape and a path. He replied: “Sincere engagement with one’s own truth. Then, will shows itself as mature, courageous, and balanced. Nothing and no one will be able to stop us from moving forward. Thus, in the effective exercise of our choices, we reveal the truth that already exists within us and also the one that has yet to emerge. Everything else is just words, without the proper ripening in the fertile soil of truth, whether due to lack of time or the inefficacy of the seed.”
The story entered its final chapter. Starry Song continued: “An elder, a member of the Council of Village Sages and a close friend of the shaman, who had been talking with him when the committee entered and had witnessed the meeting, commented that the idea of leaving the village had arisen after the famine. It wasn’t just a lack of food for the body, but it also showed the malnourishment of their souls. Having evaded the construction of the barn, which would have avoided this difficult situation, they now tried to flee from the reality they themselves had built. They were the result of their own equations. Until they looked inward, they would find no solution. No place would suit them, given the inadequacies they failed to understand.”
Starry Song continued: “One of the villagers remembered the signs sent by the Great Creator and spoke about the warning to leave. The elder explained that the difficulties we encounter in the world reflect our misunderstandings about who we are; these misunderstandings blur our reading of life. Hence, the difficulties. He clarified: The days become more complicated as we shirk the responsibilities of building. When life seems to have no solution, it reveals that we have miscalculated the equation. Simply changing the equation in an attempt to find a solution is a common and banal mistake. Every situation has its exact equation. There is a time to change and a time to redo. Understand yourself to know whether it’s a matter of substitution or of reworking the equation. One of the villagers wanted to know the elder’s opinion. He offered it: In this case, rework the equation. The solution is always hidden within the problem; never outside it. As long as you justify your own mistakes with the mistakes of others, no door will open. Embrace your errors and omissions with love. Accept yourself with compassion, humility, and simplicity. Stop with the mutual accusations; they are incapable of pointing to a real way out. That’s why you deceive each other and remain without direction. Use the past and errors not as objects of accusation, but as sources of wisdom. Support each other to understand how to proceed from now on. Plan, design, and draw the door you will pass through. Each person should focus less on what the other has failed to do and concentrate more on what they can do. Without the need for any speech; use the good example to lead those who have faltered to reconsider their own stance. The gentleness of truth brings the strength, power, and magic to build reality. Do and redo until you find the best way. In the joy of any day, in the distraction of well-spent hours, you will realise that the drawn door has taken shape and become real. Moreover, it has opened!”
The elder took the opportunity to remind them: “But be committed for love to exist. Life without commitment shows only a superficial love; no solution will be reached. The drawing on the wall will fade away. There will be no door to cross, nor a path to follow.”
Then, Starry Song concluded the story: “The village never forgot that winter. They needed unity and effort, at a level of intensity never before dared. The barn built in the following spring became a symbol of the tribe’s evolution and prosperity. Legend has it that it never stood empty again. Those were harsh days that taught everyone the importance of the exact equations for the right solutions. However, this only became possible when they began to act out of love. Thus, they understood that the door to the labyrinth, the one that will lead us out, is locked from the outside so that it may be opened from within. What can I do? A question that, when asked with sincerity and courage, makes my equation revolutionary. What have others failed to do? An escapist question that prevents me from finding the solution to any equation.”
And he opened his arms, as he always did when concluding one of his stories.
There was emotional applause. The people sitting on the grass knew how that simple story related to their lives, each in their own way. Mary’s face was bathed in tears. She was the last to get up. Only after everyone had gone did she approach. She thanked Starry Song deeply. She said that now she knew where she was going. She would go home. Everything had fallen apart because she and her husband, instead of each doing what they could, had waited for the other to act first. Nothing good happened. It was a downward spiral of mutual misunderstanding and inadequacy. She said she would invite him for a conversation. She believed there was love between them. A love hidden behind many arguments. She would invite him to draw a door, behind which they would find the forgotten love. She realised she hadn’t found a place to go because her heart wanted to stay. There was a barn to be built in her marriage, where love would always be stored to sustain them through the winters of life. Equally moved, her niece also thanked her uncle. She had understood the roots of many of her frustrations. She had learned how to solve her problems going forward. They both kissed the shaman’s cheeks loudly and left, skipping like two girls who had discovered they could tend to their own wounds. They had regained joy and found the power of life.
Alone with my old friend, I commented on the beautiful lesson in that story about the spiritual bread that is served to us daily, but which, without proper preparation, becomes impossible to savour. We remain famished. However, I recalled that he had said he would teach the young women about hope and faith. I told him he had forgotten these topics in his narrative. Starry Song shook his head and clarified: “Hope arises when we draw a door on the wall of the labyrinth. Upon understanding that this door opens inward, we discover the way out of the labyrinth and, to our amazement, find the world. Thus, the drawn door becomes reality.” He paused before concluding: “This movement is called faith.”
Translated by Cazmilian Zórdic.
