A deep melancholy had overtaken me. Reflecting on my life, I concluded that in many situations I hadn’t received the affection, respect, or gratitude I had deserved from others. Friends turned their backs on me, I became a target of mockery by family members, business partners deceived me, and my love had been betrayed by someone I deeply devoted myself to. The balance of my life experiences was negative. I was not well. It was necessary to reverse the downward spiral of thoughts and feelings that dominated me. Otherwise, only ruins would remain. I decided to go to Sedona, in the mountains of Arizona. I arrived on a Saturday morning. Starry Song was seated in an armchair under the leafy oak tree in the backyard. On the lawn in front of him, colourful blankets were laid out to accommodate dozens of people who had come to listen to ancestral stories that preserved the forgotten philosophy of an entire people. Some families came from nearby towns. They brought their children and shared food. It was a beautiful healing ceremony. Knowledge, when allied with love, has the incredible power to heal the wounds of the soul. When he saw me from afar, the shaman offered a welcoming smile. Given the sadness that overwhelmed me, that smile was like bread handed to a beggar. Although I lacked nothing materially, there was an inner void that made me feel miserable. Seeing the anguish on my face, his gaze turned concerned. He signalled with his hands for me to sit beside him. These were simple gestures, yet precious. The sincere display of joy at seeing me and the care of keeping me close made me feel important at a moment when I considered myself worthless. I never forgot them.
The lawn was packed. Starry Song waited for silence. It was necessary in order to hear the shaman’s low-toned, hoarse voice. He thanked everyone for coming and began his tale: “In a village whose history was lost in the nights of centuries past, there was a young aspiring warrior who didn’t fit into the tribe’s established standards. The greatest honour granted to a young man was to be consecrated as a warrior. There was no role more valued. Defending the village from dangers and invasions, as well as providing it with game, were the duties of a select group of admired and respected men. Nahimana, as he was called, was the only son of Wakanda, one of the bravest and most celebrated warriors of the tribe. Many legends surrounded his feats. He could not accept the idea that his beloved son would not continue the family tradition. However, since he was a boy, Nahimana disliked fighting or hunting. He appreciated music; he was an excellent flutist. He had an interest in handling herbs and roots, especially medicinal ones. He was always willing to help others with their tasks. He liked to spend time with the elders, listening to stories and talking about the things of the sky and the earth. Still, Wakanda was convinced that the boy’s interests would change with time”.
The shaman paused the story for a brief explanation: “In those days, the rites of passage from childhood to maturity were marked by specific rituals designed to test the courage and decision-making abilities of the youth in extreme and dangerous situations. Those who passed gained the glory of being accepted among the brave warriors of the tribe. Those who failed were assigned to serve the warriors and the village with tasks deemed lesser. To this day, in some aspects, the journey to maturity remains difficult and requires better understanding. Rites of passage still exist in everyone’s life. However, the rituals are unusual and happen without warning or a set date. Each individual knows the event that made them mature and become an adult. For some, the transition was gradual and peaceful; for others, sudden, abrupt, and even dramatic. There are countless situations in which boys and girls become men and women in the course of a single night. Every experience that leads us to full responsibility for who we are marks a rite of passage. Each one knows, or will come to know, their own. Some grow and advance within themselves, others succumb to difficulties and never reach maturity. There are those who are frightened and never learn how to handle responsibility; there are those who, even without fearing it, don’t fit a predetermined social model of behaviour. Nor do they know how to assert the individual qualities that make them shine. Without validation from the surrounding group, they feel lost or abandoned. They end up rejecting their personal traits. They deny themselves. Thus, they give up a large part of their driving force. By doubting their own gifts, abilities, talents, and, above all, by not recognizing the beauty of the uniqueness that defines them, they become less when they could be more. When that happens, in either case, emptiness sets in”.
He then resumed the narrative: “After fifteen equinoxes, the time had come for Nahimana’s rite of passage. Along with the other boys his age, he would be led by a group of warriors to a place where their skills would be tested. On horseback, they galloped all day until, by late afternoon, they were left in a dark forest high on a mountain. The next morning they were to return to the village. That place was called Hihilama, which in the native language meant devourer of warriors. They set up camp but stayed alert. They knew danger was near. All kept their spears, bows, and arrows within reach. As night fell, the small fire they made to keep warm attracted a huge, hungry bear. The first boy attacked, unable to defend himself, was seriously wounded. Three others showed the courage and skill needed to counterattack in a triangle formation, forcing the animal from attack to defence. Fearful and shaken, Nahimana hid from the fight. After a battle of seemingly endless moments, the bear fell, pierced by a spear. Two more finished the job. They spent the night skinning the animal. The bear’s hide was the trophy of their personal conquest. So the three of them set out in the morning toward the village. They did not allow Nahimana to join them. His behaviour was not worthy of a warrior. As for the wounded boy, there was nothing they could do; in a few hours, he would journey to the High Lands. They offered a prayer to guide his spirit and left, not without first casting looks of disdain at Nahimana”.
“Upon arriving, they were welcomed with celebration by the tribe. Treated as heroes, they praised the bravery of the attacked boy. To Wakanda’s sorrow, they spoke of his son’s cowardice. They left him on the mountain, unworthy of riding alongside warriors. He would at least be useful for burying the dying young man. A lively ceremony with music, food, drink, and dance around a great bonfire was held to honour the new warriors. Some people had no reason to share in the joy. Of these, the most shaken was Nahimana’s father. Though he loved his son, he remained imprisoned by the beliefs, concepts, and values of the tribe which, at that moment, made him wish the boy would never return. He could not bear to see him in any role other than riding by his side”.
“After some moons, on a sunny morning, the village was surprised by Nahimana’s return, something many had bet would never happen. The young man came on foot, leading his horse by the reins. On the horse rode the boy thought to be dead. Although still wounded and unable to walk, he was no longer in danger. Before a stunned tribe, he told them that Nahimana had saved him. Instead of fleeing the forest’s dangers, he chose to stay and care for him. He had the mercy not to abandon him to the delight of scavenger birds. He used the knowledge he had gained about herbs and roots to treat the serious wounds inflicted by the bear’s claws. He asked that Nahimana’s actions be reconsidered by the Council of Elders, the tribe’s highest authority, and that he be consecrated as a warrior. His courage and worth had shown themselves in another form”.
“Without delay, a great commotion arose. Everyone had an opinion about what had happened, with the prevailing idea being that, since the young man had been too cowardly to face the bear, he had failed the rite of passage. That was what the law of the village dictated. To everyone’s astonishment, without saying a word, Wakanda, the valiant warrior, warmly embraced his son, shielded him from the stoning of words, and led him to rest in his tent. The expression on the great warrior’s face showed immeasurable joy, seen only at his son’s birth. That day, Nahimana was reborn in his father’s eyes, capable of understanding what few there had grasped right away. While the three young men had the bear’s hide as a trophy, Nahimana had brought back the boy. There was a silent lesson for those willing to learn.”
“That very night, in a general assembly, the Council decided that, from then on, there would be many kinds of warriors. Not only those who defend and hunt, but also those who heal, care, feed, build, teach, create, and preserve. The village needed them all, with no distinction of value or importance”. He paused briefly before concluding: Nahimana became a healer and, over time, a beloved and respected person, even by those who once looked down on him. Through his actions, he made them understand that warriors are not only those who face death, but all those who make life worth living”.
People were moved. Some remembered their own rites of passage, almost never easy and always turning points. Others were able to recall or realize the importance and value they held, even when they had been dismissed or belittled. They embraced their children. They embraced themselves. I saw many smiles and tearful eyes. Those who were ready left carrying the antidote for the pain that had consumed them. Everyone left better than they had arrived. Or almost everyone. I remained the same. That’s how healing ceremonies work.
After everyone had gone, we went to the porch. Sitting in his rocking chair, Starry Song lit his pipe with a red stone stummel. He waited for the fire to catch the tobacco, puffed a few times, and amused himself with the smoke dancing in the soft afternoon breeze. Then he looked at me seriously. Without needing to ask a single question, I began to speak. I told him about my anguish, the destructive thoughts and the sad feelings that had taken hold of me. I spoke of the deep abyss into which I had sunk. I wanted to come back to the surface, but I couldn’t. He listened without a single interruption until I had worn myself out with my own complaints. When I finally finished, after a few moments of silence, the shaman said I should wake early the next day. We would climb the mountain to perform a ceremony. Heavy energies surrounded me. A cleansing was necessary.
In the morning, as agreed, we drove in his battered pickup to the foot of the mountain, where the dirt road ended. From there, we hiked for about an hour to a plateau with a beautiful view. I had been there before. It was where the shaman performed some of his rituals. We spread out the blankets and made ourselves comfortable. He lit a small burner with herbs whose fragrance mingled with the aromas of the local flora. Then he beat his double-faced drum in a chant that called upon good spirits to drive away the intrusive energies influencing me, narrowing the mind with rigid thoughts and agitating the heart with unruly emotions. I closed my eyes to stay in prayer. After an indeterminate amount of time, only embers remained from the fire, and the sound gave way to silence. We remained like that for a few more minutes. He asked how I felt. I said I felt a little better. It was true. I asked if I was cured. The shaman shook his head and explained: “Not at all. The heavy energies have been pushed away; they haven’t been eliminated. With the slightest slip, they’ll return. The good spirits offered all the help they could. Now it’s up to you to do your part. No one can do for anyone else what each must do for themselves.”
I said I didn’t understand. Starry Song clarified: “Everything in the universe is affinity. Defeatist thoughts and degraded emotions attract energies of the same frequency. Misunderstandings generate imbalance, which sets up an empire of sadness or rebellion. The essential strength for inner movements, the primary cause of evolutionary shifts in the world, fades and slows more and more until it stalls completely. In short, this is the origin of the emptiness that defines your current existence. You allowed yourself to dive into the abyss by maintaining a pattern of thought and feeling that destroys you a little each day. By ceasing to believe in yourself, you distanced yourself from your own essence. Your light went out. By losing touch with who you are, you forgot who you could become”. He paused to emphasize: “Don’t even think of blaming anything or anyone. Shifting responsibility only delays healing. You are where you put yourself. Finding the lost light is an untransferable act of resistance, if there is a sincere will to surface again in life”.
I said I needed help because I didn’t know how to do it. The shaman pointed out: “There’s always someone willing to offer a hand to lift us up. But they can’t walk for us. No one can. Otherwise, the evolutionary process would be wasted. Who I am brought me this far. To move forward, I need to become a different and better person, a little more each day. That is the Path. It is impossible to walk it without going through self-discovery, truth, and virtue. This intrinsic mechanism is refined with every step earned”. I asked how I could leave the dark place I had been living in within myself. Starry Song explained: “All power lies in the mind. Both of darkness and of light. Thinking destroys and builds; corrects, creates and recreates; empties and overflows; narrows and expands; stalls and moves; denies and authorizes; finds truth and lives a lie. In turn, the heart is the mind’s best ally or worst enemy. Feeling either traps or propels thought; weakens or strengthens reasoning; unbalances or centres reason”.
“The planet’s psychosphere is dense. There’s nothing to complain about. We all share vibrational affinities with that energy, just as we are its cause. We live among misunderstandings, revolts, and sorrows; unspeakable crimes, unadmitted lies, and endless grudges; misplaced desires, illusions of superiority, and sickly emotions. If you pay attention, for most of the day your mind runs on thoughts of dissatisfaction, bitterness, and projected problems. Frequent irritations, growing intolerance, and constant impatience water a disheartened heart. We confuse pride with dignity, vanity with self-esteem, and subservience with humility. It’s impossible to find peace in a mind filled this way. Each individual creates the life they live. Experiences the reality they believe in. Generates the darkness or the light of the place where they reside within themselves”. I asked how to change that frequency. He said: “Choose what you live with”. He furrowed his brow and warned: “I’m not talking about people, but about the thoughts you entertain. At all times we are assailed by toxic ideas, seedbeds of conflict and suffering. Keep the filter of consciousness active to block that mental pollution. Discard thoughts that are not noble, healthy, or loving. Every person has the power to choose the foundation of the universe they inhabit”. I said it seemed simple. The shaman smiled patiently and reflected: “Though it’s simple to understand, it’s not easy to let go of old habits. Some have been with us so long they make us believe that vices are virtues and mix up falsehood with truth”.
I argued that some people and situations have the power to tear us away from who we are. The shaman countered: “People have the power over us that we grant them. If we allow them to destroy us, it will happen. If we understand that nothing and no one can extinguish our light, that too will happen. For that, the mind and heart must be properly grounded in our own actions and reactions. We are not what we know, but what we do. The inconsistency between knowing and doing weakens and unbalances us with the anguish of falling short of who we could become. The evil done by others only reaches us while we live on the frequency of retaliation and resentment. The dividends of evil belong to those who use it. Be careful not to let them become tools of your victories and pleasure. There is no greater illness or darker place to live”.
Starry Song continued: “The counterpart of evil is good. There is no greater source of strength and balance than the full awareness of a virtuous life. Goodness practiced in silence while the world burns in noise is the living proof and foundation of self-construction. Even if no one recognizes it, it doesn’t matter; you know. Well-built buildings stand on their own foundations without ever collapsing. Every act of love, no matter how simple, can offer light to bring someone out of the darkness. A smile, a hug, a word, a pair of hands. There are other ways and many more. The possibilities of rescue are infinite, and the moments present themselves countless times throughout the days. Be alert to seize them. Making a difference in people’s lives roots the power of the mind and brings joy to the heart. It sharpens perception and sensitivity. The conscience expands. We love more and better. We move forward. We detach from the planet’s heavy vibrations”.
I tried to keep up with his calm tone and quick reasoning. He asked for my attention: “We’re not done yet”. He paused before touching another sore point: “You lost yourself on a random day’s collision. Something or someone threw you off balance because you allowed it. Instead of centring yourself in your own virtues and gifts, you let yourself be carried by the currents of events and tumble down the waterfall of opinions like a canoe abandoned on the riverbank. Never let yourself be carried away. Be the rudder and the oars of your own life. They are in the mind; they are the mind”. He let his gaze wander over the beautiful landscape and concluded: “Don’t be proud, but never allow yourself to be convinced of any inability. Not even by yourself. The mind has the power to accept and reject. It will depend solely on the ideas you choose to live with. Humility does not carry within it the concept of inferiority, but of growth. Reconnecting with yourself necessarily involves understanding the greatness of being different from everyone else. I’m not talking about shining, but about being a light. To do that, make a difference in the life of everyone you meet along the way. Change someone’s day without demanding anything from anyone. Make that a habit. The garden of our home only blooms as we plant flowers in the arid backyards of the world. Inexorably”.
Then he concluded: “As long as you don’t understand and accept what makes you different, you’ll carry the feeling that something is missing. When you manage to love the difference that defines you, you will transcend”.
I remained silent for a while. I needed to absorb those ideas, to integrate them into a new pattern of thinking and feeling. And thus, of being and living. That’s how transformations happen. Otherwise, they’ll be nothing more than mere disguises. I believed the ceremony was over. The remedy had been given. It was up to me to carry out the necessary healing. I said that to Starry Song. He arched his lips in a smile. Night had fallen. It was time to descend the mountain. It was dark. The shaman asked me to make a torch while he lit a small fire. Then he said: “There will always be a place to light your own flame. However, each one must do this for themselves. The light of others can help, but never be a source of dependence”. With a symbolic gesture, he sealed the final lesson by having me light the torch I held in my hand and, with it, illuminate my way back home. “This is the movement of life,” he finished.
That day I understood the reach of a healing ceremony. Just like Nahimana, I learned to value what was different in me. That is where each person’s beauty lies. We have equal worth without being the same. That understanding made me see the beauty in everyone. Just like Nahimana, I learned to use what is different in me to make a difference in other people’s lives. That was when I began to understand the power that always belonged to me, to you, and to everyone. The man who climbed the mountain was not the same as the one who came down.
Translated by Cazmilian Zórdic.
