When the car starts descending the mountain on the road connecting Flagstaff to Sedona, in the Arizona highlands, filled with pine and oak trees, I feel as though I’m passing through a dimensional portal. There’s something different about that place, something hard to explain. Perhaps it’s because of the numerous energy vortexes anchored by the original peoples since a time we can’t precisely define, still intact in their purity possibly because most of them remain unknown to the curious and the desecrators. It’s no wonder they say no one leaves there the same as they arrived. I carry with me the clear sense that consciousness climbs in tones of perception and sensitivity, leading us to conclusions and truths it would otherwise take a long time to reach. Daydream or not, the fact is that every time I returned from Sedona, I made pivotal choices in my life. The beauty of the place, combined with its nearly untouched nature, gave rise to a few high-end resorts, much sought after by tourists seeking peaceful days in a privileged and well-managed town that limits its growth to preserve its identity. During their stays, these people enjoy the mountain delights, hike along creeks, swim in lakes, fly in balloons, ride horseback on beautiful trails, and savour the gastronomic diversity offered by excellent restaurants. Without even realizing it, they indirectly benefit from the incredible vibrations of the place. But they do not live the transformative experiences of the shamanic ceremonies. There are two cities in one. Both are enchanting for different reasons. The hidden Sedona is the one that has always fascinated me.
That time, I had planned to stay less than two days. It was to be a quick visit. I had gone to Las Vegas for Comic Con, the largest pop culture event in the world, responsible for unveiling to the public the latest from the universe of comic books and its fantastic offshoots. I was thinking of venturing into publishing new Brazilian authors who were writing in this format. After the convention ended, I decided to head to Sedona. The idea was just to hug my friend Starry Song, the shaman who had the gift of eternalizing the ancestral wisdom of his people through stories and songs, and then return to Rio de Janeiro. I crossed the Nevada desert on a six-hour car ride. Genuine friendships are worth such daring.
When I arrived, the afternoon was well on. Starry Song was sitting in his rocking chair on the porch. He offered me a sincere smile when he saw me. He seemed happy with the surprise. Gave me a tight hug. Then he told me to leave my backpack in the guest room and sit in the armchair beside him. The shaman puffed on his unmistakable red stone pipe as he waited for the first star of the night. I told him about my plans. Young, unpublished authors needed a channel to show the world their talents and stories. Digital publications required no mystery; magazines and printed books carried a magic all their own, irreplaceable. Making many of these universes possible seemed like a passionate adventure to me. We talked about risks and opportunities until we were surprised by the arrival of Lee, one of his nephews. I already knew him. He was a tall young man, with well-defined facial features and long, straight black hair in the style of his Navajo ancestors. A decent, hardworking young man, not prone to jokes or laughter. He spoke little and had no hesitation in saying what he thought, regardless of who was around or where he was. This posture gave the impression of maturity beyond his years. He had married young and had twin children, still small. He had graduated in software engineering and worked for a tech company in Phoenix, about three hours from Sedona. His uncle wanted to know if he was on vacation; the nephew said he had been fired. Lee needed to talk. Perhaps “vent” was the right word. He was outraged by the injustice. He said he had been the victim of prejudice. Some directors disliked the idea of sharing responsibility with people of his ethnicity or depending on them for the company’s success. Since colonization by Europeans, the concept of racial supremacy had prevailed an appalling idea, the young man reminded us. He cursed the world for the behavioural backwardness still so widespread. He felt terrible. Couldn’t focus on anything, as if the situation held him prisoner. All day long, his thoughts revolved around the circumstances of his dismissal. He’d wake up in the middle of the night haunted by a thought that chased him. He had come to ask the shaman for help to free himself. He needed to find another job, take care of his family, and move on. But he couldn’t. He had always been self-sufficient. It was the first time he’d sought help from anyone.
Starry Song listened to his nephew with attention, affection, and absolute silence. Every word spoken was precious for revealing another word that would never be said. That’s the art of listening. It’s how we separate truth from versions and assumptions. Versions are personal, passionate interpretations of a fact not yet fully understood; assumptions arise when we need to fill the gaps of an incomplete truth. The most dangerous versions are those that misuse good ideas or rely on universal narratives to avoid admitting one’s own misunderstandings. The danger lies in how easily they’re accepted or in the comfort they offer to pride and vanity. Then, we abandon the essential search and become stagnant in convenient lies easy to believe because the responsibilities they would demand are difficult to accept, and no effort is required. These are the lies we tend to carry the longest. And the ones that hinder us the most.
The shaman discussed these ideas when we were alone again, after asking his nephew to return at sunrise the next day. We would hold the Ceremony of Truth, one of the sacred rituals of the native tradition. I asked if he thought the young man was lying. Starry Song shook his head and added, “We speak the truth as we understand it. Often, we understand it only to the extent it suits us. The full truth is rarely easy to find. Or to accept. The difficulty of those inner movements leads us to believe in versions and assumptions that deny responsibility for who we are and, therefore, for the inevitable consequences of our behaviour. We are not always who we believe we are.” He paused before concluding, “To lie is to knowingly deny the truth. That’s not his case.” I questioned why the shaman believed his nephew’s story might include mistaken interpretations. He replied, “I know the company’s vice president. He’s of Apache descent.” I pointed out that, if that’s true, the claim of racial prejudice didn’t make sense. I asked why Lee had understood the event the way he did. The shaman furrowed his brow and said, “That’s what Lee needs to find out.”
That very night, I changed my plane ticket and cancelled my appointments with the publisher for the following week. I wouldn’t miss that ceremony for anything. I was certain I would learn something about myself once my perception and sensitivity were a bit more sharpened. Everything changes when the gaze changes. That’s what ceremonies are for. The next day, we left the house early. Starry Song’s battered pickup took us to the end of a bumpy dirt road on the mountain. From there, we hiked for about half an hour to an incredible plateau from which we could see Sedona in the distance. While Lee and I spread blankets on the ground, the shaman marked the cardinal points with stones. The shields of the white buffalo, the eagle, the fox, and the bear were closed in a circle. The sacred Healing Wheel of shamanic mythology. He told his nephew to sit at the shield of the East, the eagle’s gate. We stood at the centre. He asked us to close our eyes. Then, he drummed a two-faced drum with a song in which he asked for the Eastern gate, where the sun rises, to open. For the eagle to fly high and bring the morning light to end the dark night of suffering; that, imbued with the symbolic attributes of the sacred bird, he might soar over the massive walls of misunderstanding, allowing no inner obstacle to prevent him from continuing his journey toward truth. That the old ways of thinking and feeling that had long imprisoned him be finally transmuted. We meditated to the sound of the drum. After a time I can’t measure, Starry Song asked his nephew to sit at the fox’s gate, the Southern door. It was the time for cleverness, in the noble sense of the word to think and feel without the influence of ideas and emotions that imprison the movement of liberation of who we are. For that, it’s necessary to empty the mind and heart without leaving any residue of preconceived ideas or maladjusted emotions that crave retaliation and foster resentment. It was essential to replace the polluted filters and cloudy lenses that block creative and healing solutions. Distant and recent events, still part of the album of sad memories, needed a deep rearrangement to be seen and felt as learning, never as emotional prisons. Lee needed to redraw himself and his life with different lines and colours, a movement only possible if the unacknowledged truth surfaced in his consciousness. Next, he asked the young man to move to the Western gate, where the sun sets and the day ends. The bear’s shield. An animal that retreats into the cave during winter to digest all it has eaten and hunted. An analogy to the nights of existence, when we take shelter in the core of who we are to understand the events we’ve lived through and then return to the world stronger and more balanced in the spring of that evolutionary cycle. “All situations are neutral. Absolutely all of them, regardless of whether they were pleasant or uncomfortable. Every lived event is a very important experience. The way we process them and how we react is what determines whether each situation turns out positive or negative. Without exception. There are many gains in defeat, just as there are dangerous traps lurking in victory,” explained Starry Song as he stopped the music. It was a time for stillness and silence so the young man could hear the calm, balanced, and determined voice of the soul. In the confusion of the days or the turmoil of inner disorder, it’s impossible to hear the wise one of the inner village. The truth will remain lost. For a long time, the mountain went silent and the wind blew without sound, so as not to disturb Lee’s meeting with himself.
The time had come for the white buffalo shield at the Northern portal, as a symbol of the precise guidance of the messenger of truth. There would be no music, nor silence. However, there would exist the fundamental movement, the one through which the internal roads of transformation are travelled, if the traveller is ready and willing. Otherwise, he will not move forward. It was the moment for the right questions and their exact answers so that the truth would not remain hidden. Starry Song asked his nephew to describe his daily routine at the company. Lee said he was well liked by the employees, especially the subordinates and those in lower positions on the company’s organizational chart. People who, in general, go unnoticed. He greeted them with his best smile, asked about their families, invited them for coffee, and made a point of highlighting their importance. The shaman nodded, acknowledging both the truth in those words and the great value of that behaviour. The young man continued the story until he revealed he had a completely different attitude with his superiors. He wasn’t rude, but he wasn’t friendly either. He wanted to be recognized for his worth, not for being pleasant in personal interactions. His uncle asked why he didn’t treat everyone the same way, regardless of their position. Lee said he loathed the figure of the brown-noser. Starry Song asked: “What is wrong with treating the janitor and the company president with the same attention and kindness?” Lee stumbled over his words trying to explain. When we can’t clearly explain an idea, it means we haven’t fully developed it within ourselves. The shaman continued in search of the truth: “What is the name of the feeling that prevents you from treating the directors as well without any hint of undue subservience as you do the doormen?”
Authenticity, Lee replied. He said he would never hide behind the conveniences of power that, though comfortable, denied truth, equality, and justice. Starry Song corrected him: “People are not classified as good or bad based on the position they hold. Good and evil lie in choices, behaviours, and attitudes. There are good and bad directors. The same is true for janitors.” He paused briefly before continuing: “Authenticity is characterized by a commitment to the truth, without being swayed by the delights of convenience or circumstance. We are either authentic or we are fugitives.” The shaman didn’t give up on the unanswered question: “What difficulty prevents you from treating your superiors with the same kindness you show to subordinates?” Lee repeated that he wasn’t a brown-noser. His uncle advanced the reasoning: “Kindness, gentleness, and generosity are valuable virtues that should not be confused with the behaviour of those who praise without merit or who cross boundaries in order to please and obtain undue privileges and advantages. Treating people without those virtues whether the president or the receptionist creates unnecessary roughness in relationships and reflects a deep misunderstanding of the beauty and greatness within all human interactions. No one likes to be mistreated. No one. Mistreatment wounds the soul regardless of professional qualifications or bank account.” The nephew said he intended to climb the corporate ladder without having to say yes when he believed no was right. The shaman agreed but added: “Taken alone, this concept carries a lot of value. The issue seems to be that its application is out of context. Nothing prevents you from being kind, gentle, and generous even when you deny a request you believe is inappropriate. Respect can and should have a sweet flavour. Just as a yes loses its charm when followed by regrets, a no undermines good reasoning when delivered harshly.”
Still struggling to accept the inevitable consequences of his behaviour, Lee let slip that he never held back from pointing out every mistake and flaw he noticed be it from subordinates or directors. In this regard, he treated everyone the same, he said proudly. His uncle asked, “When you do that, is it in public or in private?” The nephew said he did it anywhere, because he wanted the best for the company. He pointed out mistakes without scruples or reservations. Authenticity demands transparency; the truth must be spoken, he argued. The shaman again agreed but added: “Another good concept out of place. Authenticity undoubtedly requires clarity and sincerity in relationships. Obscurity in relationships leads to versions, assumptions, lies, and injustices. However, pointing out someone’s flaws in front of everyone is using scandal for self-promotion, taking advantage of others’ mistakes as steps in a climb toward a glow with no light. Public exposure of errors serves only condemnation, lacking the essential intent of peaceful and meaningful learning. Conflicts and resentments arise. Hearts grow distant. Unlike convenient speeches, it is not the best way to help anyone. Nor the company, which will suffer from the toxic atmosphere created by the conflict. Always be authentic. Without abandoning truth and transparency, but critique in private, giving the person the chance to make necessary corrections without being exposed to the gossip of the intolerant and envious. Reserve for the public only the deserved praise. That will serve as encouragement for all.”
He then asked, “Have you realized that your behaviour was the cause of your dismissal, unrelated to any racial prejudice? Can you understand the harm you caused under the guise of doing good?”
Lee became irritated. He said he wasn’t there to be accused. He had come in search of liberation. Starry Song explained: “There is no liberation outside of truth. Self-discovery is the only path to reach it. Before that, misunderstandings prevail sources of all suffering and fear, the cruel prisons of existence.” He furrowed his brow and said: “You’re not obligated to continue. We can stop the ceremony now. However, if you wish to proceed, you’ll have to face yourself with love, sincerity, and courage. Like in any story of overcoming, so well told in notable books and movies, the protagonist must deal with terrifying characters and settings that represent and symbolize his choices, behaviours, and beliefs. As long as you avoid dealing with yourself, you will never move forward.” Lee asked how to do it. The shaman explained: “When not accompanied by the right feelings, good ideas serve only to deceive the individual, making him believe he is someone he never was or in a place he has never been. Only the appropriate feelings can drive good ideas toward transformation of reality. Everything else is convenient lies and stagnation.” He looked at his nephew with sweetness and firmness and asked again: “What feelings were moving you?” He was referring to the young man’s behaviour in the company.
The young man closed his eyes for a long moment. He broke the silence to say he would see the ritual through to the end. He was tired of suffering, couldn’t bear to view life as if there were only one perspective. He wanted more. The shaman pointed out: “Then you must think and feel as you’ve never dared before.” He then advised: “Put humility before pride to dismantle the wall that prevents you from moving forward.” Lee asked if his uncle was implying that his behaviour was cloaked in arrogance. Starry Song made him reflect: “Humility is the tool that allows us to accept our own imperfections this is the prerequisite to any and all improvement. It is an essential virtue for growth and therefore for liberation.” The young man argued that arrogance is reserved for the powerful when facing subordinates. Therefore, his behaviour unfriendly toward company directors couldn’t be interpreted as arrogance. The shaman corrected him: “Arrogance is of the spirit, and not necessarily linked to the social, financial, or professional status of a person. Pride is the diseased feeling that generates attitudes like arrogance, haughtiness, or pomposity. Both the president and the doorman can be humble, if they are enlightened spirits, or they can be proud if they have not yet understood the true meaning of life.” A rebellious tear revealed the emotions enveloping the young man at that moment. Starry Song concluded: “Vanity made you confuse authenticity with arrogance. Likewise, pointing out someone else’s mistakes will never have a helpful intent if it lacks the kindness to spare them the shame of seeing their faults exposed on the billboards of insensitivity, making them a target of malicious and unproductive gossip.” He made a hand gesture to emphasize his words and said: “Your actions were driven by a feeling that, as long as it is not admitted, will remain in hidden control of your life. Antipathy in the workplace is the friction of an active vice. A hidden feeling that will continue influencing your behaviour until it is recognized.”
The young man fell silent again. This time the silence came accompanied by many tears. There was a sincere feeling of remorse common to the clarity of vision that had until then been blurred. At that moment, Lee was able to see himself with incredible transparency. The feelings that had driven his ideas had caused him to lose himself, he confessed. Starry Song nodded: “Ideas need feelings in order to become actions and, as a consequence, to change who we are. In the sequence of effects, this alters our relationships with the world, along with the reactions and dialogue that life has with us. On the other hand, good ideas driven by unknown feelings can distort the path and direction of the journey. By the time we realize it, we’ll be in a place we didn’t want to be, and we won’t even know for sure how we got there.”
Lee interrupted to say that the conversation reminded him of one of his people’s ancestral legends, which spoke of a horse that secretly commanded the rider, preventing him from reaching his intended destination. He asked if, on a deeper level of interpretation, the horse represented the unacknowledged or untamed feelings.
Starry Song arched his lips in a slight smile of satisfaction, nodded yes, and added:
“Good and bad feelings inhabit everyone’s heart. Good feelings serve to propel good ideas, pushing us beyond who we are. The challenge lies in what to do with the bad feelings. The primordial movement is to recognize them so they can be educated. As long as they are denied, they will remain in control, influencing choices to the point of deceiving us. We’ll be guided by these hidden feelings, without having any power over our will. Authentic and powerful behavioural vices will form, which slowly destroy us while we believe we are building ourselves.” He shrugged and concluded: “The horse will always be useful to the rider, as long as the rider is the one in command. When we fail to understand the antagonistic movements of life coming toward us, it means we are still unable to decode the feelings that structure our behaviour. The adversary lives within us. The more invisible it is, the greater the damage.”
The shaman beat a two-faced drum in a melody of gratitude to close the ceremony. The truth had come to light. It was up to Lee to make proper use of that indescribable power to free himself from yet another emotional prison. Without realizing it, we are held back by many internal prisons that restrict our freedom. It is necessary to unlock the bars of each one of them. As for me, throughout the ritual, I reflected on my behaviour with people close to me with whom I’d had problems in the past. I needed to understand which feelings pushed forward or prevented the best in me from blossoming through those relationships. Some I recognized in that moment; others I struggled more to accept. I also understood the need to identify each hidden feeling that governs us like invisible inhabitants that live inside us as an essential rite of passage toward maturity. Before that, we still live the childhood of the soul with adult responsibilities. The damage is enormous.
When we returned to the shaman’s house, Lee hugged his uncle as a sincere expression of his gratitude for the understanding he had achieved. He would return to Phoenix. His wife and children were waiting for him. He needed to start over in a different way. Now he knew how to do it. Before leaving, he said that without that help, he wouldn’t have made it. Starry Song smiled and said: “The merit is yours. I only showed the road. You were the one who travelled it. Without your will, courage, and love, nothing meaningful would have happened”. From the porch, we watched the young man get into the car and drive off. He was someone quite different from the person who had arrived in Sedona a few days earlier.
Translated by Cazmilian Zórdic.
