I’ve been typing entirely too much as of late, so I’ve been giving my hands a break this weekend. However, I do have something for you to read:
Cultural Honesty: Creating Neopagan Totemism
This appeared in this week’s roundup of Witchvox articles. The basic concept mirrors a lot of my philosophy with therioshamanism in general. Feel free to take a look, and let me know what you think 🙂
Thanks, and I should hopefully be back to writing later this week.
The other day in my post about omens, Ash made a good comment, asking about the geographic considerations of totemism. While I replied, I wanted to elaborate more on that in today’s post.
You can probably tell from some of my writing on totems that I already have a rather unorthodox view of them. I don’t interact with them in any indigenous cultural context, and my work has a decidedly neopagan flavor to it. Additionally, I like to experiment with magic in general, and so a lot of my recent magical activity has revolved around taking totemism in new directions. This includes working with a wide variety of totems, rather than limiting myself to Big, Impressive North American Birds and Mammals (BINABM).
I can definitely see the argument that it makes more sense to work with the animals native to your area. This sort of geographically-oriented totemism can be incredibly helpful in getting in touch with your local area, where you live and who shares that place with you. All four of my directional totems are BINABM that can reasonably be found near where I’ve lived (though they may be a few hundred miles away, depending). And the fact that they’re all found in North American temperate zones helps me to connect both with them, and with where I live. The daily elemental meditations I’ve been doing are a good demonstration of this connection.
However, I am not only a product of my geography, but also of my culture–and I live in a globally aware culture (relatively speaking). Americans may not know everything about every country outside the U.S. (and in fact may be criticized for international ignorance) but we are as a culture at least aware of the fauna of other places, from Australian marsupials to the creatures of the African Savannah. In my cosmology, every species of animal has a totem, regardless of whether that totem is widely acknowledged or not. And since learning about a new animal is literally a Wikipedia article away, having an odd creature we’ve never even heard of show up in totemic form isn’t cause for utter confusion.
Case in point: two of the totems I’ve worked with recently are Silver Dollar and Bachman’s Warbler. Both of these came up in meditations with an experimental system I’ve been developing. Silver Dollar is a fish commonly seen in tropical aquarium setups; before I got into contact with him totemically I had no idea he was of South American origin. As for Bachman’s Warbler, this little bird, either exceedingly rare or possibly (though not officially) extinct, is native to the Southeastern U.S. and Cuba, and I’d never even heard of that species until the totem came popping in one day. True, she’s still from the U.S., but the totally opposite corner and thousands of miles away. That’s a lot farther extent than the fauna knowledge of the indigenous people of the Pacific Northwest had for most of their history.
Additionally, as we become more globally aware, we can’t ignore what’s going on. A current example is the struggle in Burma–I’ve been watching this with interest for a variety of reasons I won’t get into, as I don’t want to start a political debate here (that’s what my personal blog is for 😉 ). Needless to say, it’s an important thing, even if it isn’t happening here in the good ol’ U.S. of A. In the same way, my relationship with totems isn’t just me taking and taking from them; it also involves helping them. Part of my work with Bachman’s Warbler involved giving her aid in trying to locate any remaining physical representatives of her species were left. And one of my goals with therioshamanism is to be able to aid animals around the world with both mundane and magical actions. While there are plenty of endangered species right here at home, some of the most threatened live an ocean away.
Therefore, it behooves me to learn to make contact with totems in all places. Just as it’s important to know what’s going on with humans worldwide, so is it good for me to be aware of animals globally, to include on a totemic level. Totems can make requests of specific ways to help their physical “children”, and while this does not replace mundane actions such as donating to animal-based nonprofits, writing to political figures, and consuming consciously, it is one of several avenues I can take to help improve things.
I have talked to people who claim that working with spirits outside of their geographic location makes the local spirits angry. I haven’t had that problem; I primarily work with totems (particularly the global ones) in my own ritual area in the upstairs half of our apartment, and none of the “local” totems or others have complained. I do make sure to honor the locals (including the directional totems) before each evocation, which I would imagine helps. What I’ve found is that while, to an extent, totems do behave as, well, animals, I don’t end up with conflicts between them, such as Wolf attacking Deer. They realize why they’ve been called, and I haven’t seen any indication that predatory totems need to feed on prey totems, or that anyone feels the need to start a dispute when in what’s essentially *my* territory (which is essentially safe space for all I allow into it).
So this is why I work with such a variety of totems, rather than sticking to the BINABM. It works for me, though as always YMMV.
Hi, again! First, a quick note to my LJ-feed folks–could you do me the kindness of posting your comments to my entries to the actual therioshamanism.com site, rather than the LJ-feed posts? I don’t get comment notifications for LJ, and I don’t really have the time to go back and check my recent posts. However, I do get comment notifications for therioshamanism.com. Muchas gracias!
One thing that has been made clear to me since embarking on this quest is just how much I don’t know. Now that I’m reevaluating my path, I’m beginning to see the holes in my experience that need to be filled. For example, for all the neat stuff I’ve been able to do with animal magic and other paradigms over the years, and for all the bad habits I’ve deprogrammed out of myself, I still have yet to successfully put together a daily meditation or other practice that consistently lasted for more than a week. And while I’ve had some experience with various altered states of consciousness, I could use more control in more advanced states outside of shapeshifting-related trance (both totemic and therianthropic).
When I first came to this realization, I will admit it was a bit of a blow to the ego. I thought to myself, “Well, what the hell have I been doing screwing around the past decade and change?” Actually, I’ve had this happen a couple of times in response to multiple experiences recently that showed me where I need work. It didn’t help that my first “assignment” from the totems was basic 101-level elemental work.
Needless to say, while I haven’t entertained any thoughts of giving up, I have felt pretty down on myself lately, questioning whether I’ve wasted the past 10+ years and wishing I’d been more focused. There were even times when I questioned the magical stuff I’ve written, whether I had the authority to write Fang and Fur. Hello, self-absorbed pity party.
However, after having done the elemental exercise that the totems suggested in this ritual for a couple of days, I was able to see progress, and to appreciate why they’d brought it up. This, coupled with some conversations I’d had with my husband, Taylor, helped me to stop focusing on my perceived “failures”, and instead to accept that going back to the basics doesn’t make one inferior. It may simply mean that when you’re rebuilding, you start from the ground up. And since I have more to work with than I did all those years ago, I’m in a better place in a lot of ways.
I’ve been learning a lot the past decade and change. And I’ve been able to convey some of what I’ve learned through my writing. Starting over doesn’t negate or lessen what I’ve already done, nor do I have to throw everything out the window. Even if I find that I don’t see things the same way as I did a couple of years ago, it doesn’t mean my experiences then were less genuine. It simply means that I’m continuing to refine my experiences, rather than letting myself stagnate into a pool of dogma. In a way, my writing has been a record of my evolution as a person, and even if I find that I don’t agree with it all ten years from now, that doesn’t decrease its value. Each article, each book, each journal entry is a snapshot of who I am and what I’m doing at that time, and is one step on a continuous path.
And as for the insecurity and egocentricism? These are things to work on. They don’t make me a terrible person, nor do they automatically disqualify my from what I’m doing. Rather, the acknowledgment that they’re there and that I can work on making myself better in those regards is a step in the right direction. Rather than being crushed by humiliation, I can be refocused through humility and self-honesty, and take away some of the fear-based barriers in my way.
So I’m okay with doing some 101-level work. It’s a good reminder of why it works, and it helps me to create a more solid foundation for a new stretch of my path.
I do have another post planned for today, but wanted to pop this up here while I was thinking about it:
When I talk about looking at the Otherkin concept from a metaphorical perspective, this is not to the exclusion of other angles, such as reincarnation. As I mentioned in my essay, I see the metaphorical angle as well as psychological and spiritual angles. While for me, personally, reincarnation isn’t a part of the spiritual aspects, it is for plenty of other people.
What I want to make clear is that multiple theories of explanation are not necessarily opposed to each other. It is quite possible to look at a situation from more than one perspective and have more than one explanation for what happened. For example, in regards to my therianthropy, from a purely psychological level it’s a product of early imprinting and conditioning, as well as ego-identification with Canis lupus. However, that doesn’t negate the spiritual/totemic aspects, or the mythological/metaphorical aspects. It’s not a situation of either/or. It’s one of both/and.
I think that one of the shortcomings of the Otherkin community is that as a group we’ve* too often bought into the rational OR metaphorical argument. Since what we believe about ourselves is often challenged anyway, we scramble for the most “solid” explanation we can come up with, which is usually reincarnation; those who don’t have past life memories often beat their heads against brick walls for years because they feel that’s what they *must* exhibit in order to be “legitimate”. And because we live in a society that demands as much literal proof as possible, and since reincarnation is the closest we have (since people with past lives almost always see them as literal, linear events that actually happened in this reality), people sometimes fear “diluting” what literal proof they do have.
However, that’s buying right into the overly literal/rational perspective that dominates modern post-industrial thought. Sometimes we want so badly to be accepted that we’re willing to play by the mainstream’s rules, even if it cuts us off from other possibilities.
When I espouse a metaphorical perspective on Otherkin, I am not saying that you have to give up whatever other views you have in order to embrace it. Rather, I encourage people to look at themselves on multiple levels–in fact, reincarnation can easily be seen as a part of one’s personal mythology, specifically the mythology we tell about ourselves. “Mythology” has unfortunately been given the connotation of “not true”, because it may not be literally “true”–but IMO, that doesn’t make that a correct assessment. Metaphor is true–it’s simply true on a different level of reality. Therefore, while reincarnation (as an example) can be literally true in that one believes that somewhere in linear time one was incarnated in another life, it can also be metaphorically true as a part of one’s personal mythology that helps one to understand the macrocosm in relation to the microcosm.
* Should also add that when I say “we” I mean the community in general, with the understanding that individuals’ mileages may vary.
Heh–I’m feeling just a little silly. Sleep dep’ll do that to me now and then.
Just as a side note, while it is my amazing and great intention to post here every single day at least once, if it doesn’t happen, it’s not because I don’t love you 😉 Mainly it’s going to be due to either A) too much stuff happening (e.g., work, taking a vacation from teh intarwebz) or B) not enough stuff happening (e.g., can’t think of anything to write about, ebb in spiritual/magical activity for a few days).
Now, to the post itself.
I’m nowhere near being the biggest fan of omens. I like Occam’s razor; it’s a good tool to have on hand when dissecting spiritual experiences. To put it very briefly, it states that the simplest answer is the most likely. Therefore I tend to look askance at the idea that because you see a crow outside your house every morning, that must mean that Crow is your totem. (Have you asked your neighbor where all that bird food is going?)
So when confronted with sightings of animals, I tend to look less at the esoteric meanings of said critters, and more at where their closest habitat might be, whether they’re known to be territorial, etc. A common example I like to use to illustrate this point is the hawk. Raptors in general have gained in numbers, especially in the past couple of decades, thanks to the ban on DDT. For those who aren’t aware, DDT was a pesticide in use until it was banned in the early 1970s. DDT would wash into the waterways where fish would absorb it. Certain species of raptor, including some hawks, which ate fish would absorb the DDT, which then caused thinning of egg shells, leading to fewer successful hatches. Hawks are territorial as well, and are somewhat adaptable to urban areas (or at least the suburbs, though I once saw a hawk down a pigeon near the baseball stadium in downtown Pittsburgh). So if you start seeing hawks regularly, chances are good you have a mated pair whose territory includes your home.
Ironically enough, it was a hawk that sparked this post. Since I moved to the Pacific Northwest, I’ve seen very few hawks–only one in Seattle, and until recently, none in Portland. I’ve actually seen more bald eagles than hawks. However, yesterday as I was walking from work to the train station, I saw what looked like a juvenile Northern harrier (marsh hawk) fly right overhead. Now, this isn’t surprising–though I work in a suburb of Portland, it still has a lot of greenspace, including some wetlands, perfect for more adaptable species. I’ve seen muskrats in the grass right next to the sidewalk, less than a yard away from me, and there’s a blue heron in the marsh near my building. So a hawk isn’t surprising.
However, the reason it made me take notice was that in my elemental totem ritual this past weekend, one thing that Hawk, my East/Air totem, specifically mentioned the fact that I hadn’t seen very many physical hawks here, compared to the Midwest, where I saw redtails all the time. It was a nice reminder that Hawk was still here, even though of all the directional totems, he’s the one I’ve worked with least on a magical level.
However, more importantly than that, it was a reminder of something from that ritual. I was told to spend some time this month (every day, preferably) observing the interplay of the elements (Earth, Air, Fire, Water) in my life in different environments. Now, while I mean well, I can be a procrastinator, and I also have a spotty memory–which means I don’t always do what I’m told, not because I’m being willfully argumentative, but because I either forget it or don’t get around to it. So the vivid vision of the first hawk I’ve seen in Portland was a good mnemonic for this.
Ordinarily, I would have just seen the hawk as a hawk, and considered it a cool thing. However, because of the temporal proximity to the ritual and the nature of Hawk’s conversation, and the fact that the sighting triggered a specific response (hello, Pavlov!) I considered it to be an extraordinary experience. Do I think that hawk materialized only to remind me of Hawk-like things? Nope. However, I do like the idea of synchronicity, and this was a vivid example.
It reminded me, reflecting on it at the bus stop this morning, of something I read in Lon Milo DuQuette’s The Chicken Qabalah of Rabbi Lamed ben Clifford*. DuQuette, speaking through the fictional (though no less entertaining and educational) Rabbi Lamed ben Clifford, makes the point that everything in the world is a message to him from G-d. Now, there are several ways this could be interpreted. One way is the “Everything is an OMEN!!!!” (in an omen-ous voice, no less!) method, in which anything even remotely out of one’s usual routine is seen as important (and often negative). Then, of course, there’s the option of just ignoring everything (but where’s the use in that? You need to pick up the phone at some point.)
I tend to see things as variable in importance. Looking at the beauty of Nature, that’s the Divine saying “Hey, look at me–I’m gorgeous! And balanced! And you’re a part of this, too, remember!” And being with my mate is “Love is a wonderful thing, and it bestows blessings (even if there are occasional curses)”. These are important, but relatively everyday. Occasionally there’s something more specific, a “Wake up and pay attention!” kind of thing. And that’s how I saw the hawk yesterday–not as something that was manifested solely for my benefit, but as part of the interwoven complexity that is the Divine.
This doesn’t mean I never get premonitions, of course. I’ve had those times when my intuition went *ping*, and I knew something big was in the offing. But I don’t generally get them through as indirect a means as seeing a hawk fly by–usually the experience is anything but ambiguous, and there’s no doubt in my mind.
And sometimes it’s nice to just enjoy watching a hawk wing its way across the marsh–that’s magic in its own right, as far as I’m concerned.
*Hell yes! I’m a Chicken Qabalist!
I originally posted this to my personal blog, but I thought I’d crosspost it here as well since it does deal with spiritual beliefs. I’ve met several people who believe that therianthropy (and Otherkin in general) are just those who have an odd interpretation of animistic/shamanic concepts; while I don’t think that explains everyone who identifies as Otherkin/etc., I do think it’s an angle I want to explore more for my *personal* purposes.
*************
This is quite possibly one of the most difficult parts of my personal cosmology for people who aren’t Otherkin to grasp. On the surface, it seems entirely delusional and escapist–“You believe you’re a wolf? Have you looked in the mirror lately? Maybe we should get you to a psychiatrist…” And believe me, plenty of us have gone through the belief-doubt-belief cycle.
As I’ve gotten older, though, and this odd bit of my psyche hasn’t gone away (no matter how I’ve tried ignoring and even repressing it), I’ve started looking at it from different angles. The concept of therianthropy, the idea that a person is, on a certain psychological, spiritual, or other nonphysical level, a nonhuman animal, is the concept that best explains what’s going on in a *functional* manner. Telling me I’m crazy doesn’t make me more functional. I’m already quite functional; therianthropy doesn’t hinder my ability to live a perfectly normal life, with a husband, a job, and a decent social life. However, part of that functionality comes from being able to accept myself as I am and integrating everything about myself into my life, rather than trying to play the Pigeonhole Game.
Many therians see therianthropy as a psychological/neurobiological thing. Many Otherkin in general are enamored of the idea of reincarnation, that who and what we were in previous (or alternate, depending on your view of linear space/time) lives affects who and what we are now. For myself, though, I’m gravitating more and more towards a metaphorical perspective (in addition to psychological and spiritual layers).
I like Joseph Campbell’s work, warts and all. I’m particularly fond of the concept that people need mythology in order to have a complete worldview, that mythology answers a need we have on a very deep level. IMO, rationality appeals to the left brain, while mythology appeals to the right hemisphere (and keep in mind this is very generalized). Now, granted, I can’t speak for everyone. But for myself, spirituality, and by extension, mythology, are part of my psyche’s complete breakfast. Rationality answers my need for a physical, down-to-earth, left-brain explanation of things. However, if anything, I’m canted more towards the right brain (I’m even left handed, and I’m one of those damned artsy types ;). Therefore, in order to be happy, I need the mythological/metaphorical end of things as well. (I’d make an awful rational atheist/materialist.)
Mythology occurs on two levels, IMO/IME. It occurs on a collective/community level, where a group consensus of belief is arrived at. This is where the more outward trappings of religion and spirituality come into play, as well as the cultural mythology shared by an entire group, tribe or nation of people. It’s more commonly recognized in modern American society, though in a fragmented manner. We do not, as a nation, have a cohesive cultural mythology that permeates the fabric of our society in the same way that mythology shaped, say, the ancient Greek or Norse cultures. (And even then, the collective mythology could vary according to individual culture-within-a-culture, by region, etc.) However, we do not have a national mythology (or a national religion). We are a patchwork quilt made of a number of different cultures that arrived here over several centuries, and who are still arriving. Additionally, America as a whole is incredibly materialistic and possessed of a short attention span. The closest we have to heroes and other mythological entities are the denizens of pop culture, who (with rare exception) last a few weeks, months, or years, and then drop out of existence. We worship what we see on the T.V., though it’s not conventional worship and we don’t always realize what we’re doing. Additionally, we have a rather destructive relationship with that form of mythology–we create heroes, and then take malicious joy out of knocking them down. The evening news and “reality” T.V. are testaments to our cultural fetish for watching the mighty tumble back down to our level; rather than aspiring to become better people through their examples, we revel in dragging them down to our level, made rabid by our insecurity and fear of success.
There’s also the mythology inherent in religion to consider. The most common religion in America is Christianity, but the values of that religion are largely based in ancient Hebrew society, and in some ways don’t mesh particularly well with modern American culture. Not that it can’t be done, but many of the original values of Christianity and its predecessor, Judaism, have been dropped by liberal Jews and by Christians in general–how many Christians routinely slaughter cattle as per Leviticus, or throw stones at adulterers? My point, though, is not judging whether any particular religion is right or wrong–that’s up to the individual to decide. Rather, I want to make it clear that this is in no way a Christian nation, and although the motifs of Christian myth* do permeate society to an extent, it’s not the same as Native American or other indigenous cultures, or the pre-Christian cultures of Europe–or even primarily Christian societies prior to the past two centuries or so.
Still neither pop culture nor religions make for a cohesive *cultural* mythology in America. Additionally, more than any known society before us, modern America is incredibly individual-based. This has only really cropped up in the past several decades, and while it has had some definite benefits (such as encouraging people to challenge stereotypes, prejudices, and other negative elements traditionally accepted by the status quo), it has contributed to the lower possibility of cultural mythology.
However, the rise of the individual increases the exposure of *personal* mythology, something which has always existed but has been largely downplayed in more group-oriented societies. Personal mythology is understanding reality from the microcosmic view, determining one’s own perspective, and telling the story of what the world is from a single viewpoint. It often meshes with a cultural mythology (in some cases, more than one), though it may have completely unique elements as well (as in Unverified Personal Gnosis).
And this is where my therianthropy ties in to all that stuff above this point–it is a part of my personal mythology. Part of the story I tell about myself is that, inside me, there is a part of me that is a wolf–in that respect, I am a wolf. This is something that I’ve recognized in myself for most of my life, and have found different ways to explain it. When I was a child, I called Wolf my “favorite animal” because that’s what I was told it was. When I first learned about totems, I thought perhaps Wolf was my totem (and I was right). However, therianthropy fit my experiences even more, particularly the identification WITH Wolf.
There are no cultural motifs in modern America for explaining this feeling beyond classic lycanthropy (fiction) and clinical lycanthropy (insanity). We don’t have a system of animal totemism, nor is there widespread functional belief in animal spirit guides; our totems and spirits are relegated to children’s cartoons and sports mascots. Additionally, we are detached from the concept that we, humans, are animals–some people get incredibly offended by the assertion that we share the majority of our genetic material with all other mammals (and all vertebrates, for that matter). “But we’re special! We can reason! We’re (insert deity’s name here)’s chosen beings!” That may be, but other animals are pretty special, too–could you survive in the woods if you were thrown out there naked with no supplies? Can you smell a deer a quarter mile away? Our big brains, evolutionarily speaking, are our species’ adaptation, just as more olfactory glands are the adaptation of scent-based predators such as wolves. We have gained reason, but we have lost a healthy grasp of instinct.
I acknowledge I am an animal, a mammal, a primate. Because the basic human social structure, more pronounced in hunter-gatherer societies, resembles that of wolves, and because American culture often equates the Wild (instinct, wilderness, base emotions) with wolves (werewolves being the most common shapeshifter in American culture, and in many of the cultures that shaped modern America), it’s no surprise, then, that when the instinctual part of myself, the archetype of the Wild (Wo)Man, raises its shaggy, sharp-fanged muzzle, it manifests as a wolf.
This does NOT mean that therianthropy is ONLY “make-believe” for me, that it is only metaphorical–there are also psychological and spiritual levels to it as well. However, we live in a setting where “metaphor” is taken to mean “not real” because it doesn’t manifest literally on the physical/rational. Go beyond a certain level of abstractness, and people want to delineate between what is “real” and what is “imagination”. Yet in mythology–the study of myth–metaphorical is just as real as literal. It may be real in different ways–but it has a very real effect on people. Let me say that again: metaphor is real, because it has a very real, concrete effect on how people view the world around them and how they act on that world and its denizens. Whether it’s the ancient tribe that placates the spirits of the dead to keep them from harming the living, or the anti-abortion protester who believes wholeheartedly that God wants hir to protect unborn lives, or the person who believes s/he was an elf in a past life and that part of hirself still resonates with that, the mythology we believe in is very real for us–particularly on a personal level.
And this is part of why I identify as a therian–because it answers my need for mythology, and meshes with my personal mythology. It answers questions that the rational/literal reality denies even exist, and functionally, it helps me to feel I am a more complete person. My life is enriched by this belief. On a left-brain level, yes, it’s possible that I have a weird neurobiological quirk, or a strange bit of psychological imprinting/conditioning (it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been called weird or strange 😉 But on a right-brain level, this makes sense. And rather than trying to pick between the left/literal and right/metaphorical, I choose to embrace them both as possible explanations for myself–not just for therianthropy, but for everything that encompasses my life.
The left brain is the Earth–grounded, solid, physical; the right brain is the Sky–free of hindrances, open, with breezes that carry me ever higher. As long as I am between the Earth and the Sky, things can’t be all that bad.
* No, “myth” does not equal “fiction”. However, the current subjective treatment of myth, of declaring one myth to be more true than another, sometimes makes it difficult to speak of some religions in mythological terms for fear of offending adherents.
One thing the Animal Father had recommended to me a couple of weeks back was to talk to the four directional totems (the totem animals that I call on in each quarter) and to ask them why they, specifically, were the totems who worked with me in that capacity. So since I am designating Full Moons (or close to them, anyway, depending on work schedule, how tired I am, etc.) to totem-specific rituals, I decided this would be a good opportunity.
So I went upstairs to the ritual area and got prepared. At first I had intended to just talk to Wolf, the totem of the North, and save the rest for later Full Moon rites, but as I progressed I got the distinct feeling that I should talk to all four, that Wolf wouldn’t be doing anything so intense that I had to focus only on him. So around the circle I went, talking to each totem in turn. For ritual structure, I dropped the “draw the pentacle in the air” portion of the evocation since it’s pretty much extraneous at this point, and rather than vocally/verbally calling on each totem, I drew on the internal energetic connection that I’ve formed with each of these totems over the years, doing the usual, brief energetic shape-shift as a way of calling on each one. It was quite effective, and in fact without the distraction of the pentacle and the words, was more intense. I still used my ritual knife to “pull” the elemental energy from the top of the ritual sphere to the bottom, creating a quarter sphere each time. So in the North I sat in a lush green forest, while in the East I soared through sunny, clear skies; the South was a dry, colorful desert, and West was a crashing waterfall. All of these are the usual settings for the quarters, the way I visualize each element, but they were much stronger this time. So I know I’m doing something right.
I asked each totem, “Why are you my totem of this direction?” Wolf’s reply was thus:
“Because I am the animal that represents Earth to you, and green growing things, and the grounded energy. More than any other element, you are attuned to this element, though you are attuned to the others as well. But this one strikes deeply. I am always in contact with the Earth, paw pads on cool dirt, claws digging in. I am keenly aware of the need for the Earth. Also, humanity has often treated me the same as the Earth, for good or for ill, often more than any other animal in places where I am found. and that is why I am your totem of the North.”
Then I evoked Hawk in the East; he said:
“Because I soar on the wind, and I am swift like thought. I am quick to strike, as you are intellectually, though you have learned to have more discretion since I first met you. And you love the light of the sun, the warm air, as do I. You seek to spread your mind’s wings and soar ever farther, and I am with you in that. And I am familiar to you, though my physical presence has diminished some due to where you now live. But I am still here, and I remain.”
Next I called to Fox in the South, and s/he replied:
I am magic, and I am sex. I am passion, and I am clever in my creativity. I am the Fire of Life, all the things that make Life worth Living. I am change, and magic is change, and I am passionate about that. I am the heat that crackles in your very cells, and I work with Hawk’s intellect. I ignite the fire of sex, and the intensity of my red coat is the Fire I bear. But beware the blackened paws, for fire can burn–but oh, is it worth it!”
Finally, I came around to the Bears in the West, and their answer was:
“We are of the emotions; we are here to keep your ego in check. We remind you that you are a powerful being, as are we, and that your emotions can both harm and heal. We teach you to know the difference. But we can also rage like whitewater; we are not always calm and placid. We will help you heal the body at a later point, but for now, heal yourself and those around you, and learn when harm may be necessary–but also the impact. The very water in your cells holds us. We fish in the water, but we do not live there, nor do you, just as you do not live in the air. We and Hawk balance each other out in this manner.”
Then I sat in the center, and this is what I learned from all of them at once:
“We are all of you, and we are here to surround you. We are your animals of the elements, though we are each so much more. We teach you the elements, and we want you to be aware of the elements as much as possible–the basic building blocks of life. Together, we form you, and we ask you to always call on us, not just for protection, but to remember us. The Animal Father has his own elemental totems, but we are yours. You need not dance us; simply call us at your rituals, and remember what we stand for to you. Remember us, whether you are in the wild or not. We are here.”
I felt the strength of them within and without. They welled up inside me, and I felt the immersion in the elements I feel when I am out in the middle of the wilderness. For a time, everything I sensed translated into elements–the air I breathed, the fire in my cells, the solid earth of my body, the water in my veins, as well as the things I saw around me. I was acutely aware of how they all fit together.
The totems told me not to banish them, but to go and spend the next month paying conscious attention to the elements in my life and how they are imminent. (Obviously not to the point of distraction.) So I left without banishing, and felt the totems both in the ritual area and in myself. I grounded by eating, but I still notice the elements in my everyday life. I know what they want; they want me to try to increase the awareness I get, like when I am out in the wilderness, only more frequently. It’s something I can do relatively easily; they just want me to make more of a habit of it. And it’s also not just the outer elements, but also the internal elements, both physical and nonphysical.
Admittedly, this is a pretty basic thing; a lot of newbie pagans do elemental attunement rituals of this sort. However, it’s appropriate and timely, given my refocusing and construction of a path. The directional totems wanted me to be quite aware of their presence in my life, which has intensified quite a bit since I first started working with them over a decade ago. (They’re quite insistent that they stay in my life as well, which wasn’t really an issue anyway.) But I want to increase my awareness of their presence in my life as well as the presence of the elements they represent to me. Too often I think I’ve given lip service to the elements, and not really made them imminent in my life. However, if my path is to include greater awareness of the world around me and the interconnection among all things, it’s only common sense that this would start with a greater awareness of the basic elements that compose both the microcosm and the macrocosm.
Recently I’ve answered questions for a couple of folks online about how to find your totem. This is another one of those areas where I’ve got a pretty good idea of what I think/know/believe/insert other appropriate verb here.
From my experience, your best bet is always going to be to go directly to the source–the totem hirself. I know some people like decks of totem cards. The problem with these is that they severely limit your options, mostly to Big, Impressive North American Birds and Mammals (BINABM). What if your totem is Wallaby? Or Yellowfin Tuna? Or Rhinoceros….Beetle? A couple of decks include a blank card or two, but that still heavily slants the deck in favor of the BINABM. And as for dreams and animal sightings? Sometimes a blue jay is just a blue jay. Dreams are usually symbolic in nature; rather than assuming that wolf you saw was your totem, ask yourself instead what wolves represent to you, and what that correlates to in your waking life (this may take a while, since dreams like to dredge up all sorts of fun stuff from the subconscious mind). And with regards to seeing physical animals in waking time, chances are that your territory happens to overlap with the animals’ territory (either that, or your neighbors are leaving food out for the cats again, and the possums are taking advantage of it).
I have a problem with people “reading” other peoples’ totems. Sure, it’s not impossible to be able to read others’ energy or “see” spirit guides of various sorts. However, these are filtered through the perspective of the beholder, which adds an additional layer of possible misidentification. For example, I had a friend in college who read “Horse” to me any time I saw her. However, when I asked her what her totem was, she said “Oh, my totem is Swan”.
So, IMO/IME the best way to determine what your totem(s) is/are is to go directly to the source. This also goes for when you want to find out what a particular totem you’re working with, or at least have been contacted by, wants to tell you. I commonly use the usual guided meditation to do so; it minimizes the possibility of outside interference, and it also allows me to get into contact with literally any totem, rather than whatever’s in the deck.
I created a particularly open-ended version of the meditation that I’ve used for a number of years, both for myself, and for use with totem workshops I’ve presented. It’s gotten a lot of good feedback and results, and I use it (slightly altered) routinely in communication with totems. I even customized it to contact the totems of the chakras a la the Personal Totem Pole.
This meditation was initially published in my book Fang and Fur, Blood and Bone. I excerpted it a while back for a friend who needed a meditation to give to people who were discussing the concept of animal totems. I decided to post the excerpt here, since it is an integral part of my practice and will continue to be as such. While I intend to work with deeper forms of trance, I like this for routine conversation.
Copyright Lupa, 2006. Please do not reproduce without my written permission; if you like what you see, please consider buying a copy of the book. Thanks, and enjoy!
Appendix A: Guided totem meditation
This meditation may be used to find primary or secondary totems. I have had better success using it for secondaries–if you are going to try to determine a primary with it, multiple performances should be done in order to account for any preconceived notions or unclear results. Keep in mind that you may not see any animal at first. If this occurs, give it a few weeks at least and then try again. Some folks aren’t ready to meet a particular totem; others may simply need to work with a different set of entities; still others simply don’t get much out of guided meditations and visualizations.
You may either record yourself reading this meditation aloud and play it back or have another person read it to you–preferably someone with a pleasant voice. Nothing ruins a good guided meditation like a deadpan monotone with a cold. As with any other meditation, make sure your setting is quiet and undisturbed and that you can get into a comfortable position that may be held for 15-30 minutes but won’t cause you to fall asleep in the meantime.
Make your body become completely still. Don’t move any part of your body. Concentrate on being entirely motionless. (Allow at least two minutes for this.)
Now breathe as deeply and slowly as you possibly can, in through the nose and out through the mouth. Create an even, steady flow of air. Feel the tension leave your body with each breath. (Minimum three minutes.)
Feel your body sink into the ground beneath you. If there is a manmade floor, feel yourself pass through it and into the cool Earth below. Feel your body become a part of that Earth, solid and unmovable. (One minute.)
Send the upper half of your body high into the sky. Feel the wind rush around you and the clouds brush against your skin. Feel yourself expand into that vast open space and become a part of the Sky. (One minute.)
Now feel yourself being a part of both the Earth and the Sky, solid and vast, and know that as long as the Earth is beneath you and the Sky above you, no harm may come to you on your journey. (One minute.)
Visualize a natural hole–it may be a burrow in the ground, an open knot in a tree, a space amid branches that leads to the sky above, a hole in the ice over Arctic seas. It may be as large as a stone arch or as small as a single cell. See it before you, and enter into it. (One-two minutes.)
Find yourself led down into a long, dark tunnel. You may be running, floating, flying, swimming or crawling through it. (One minute should suffice.)
At the end of the tunnel is another opening. As you pass through this opening, enter into a natural place in which you are very comfortable. It may be a large field, a forest, a snowy plain, a body of water, or the broad sky. Explore this place. Note what the natural flora is, what season and time of day it is and how you move through it. (One-two minutes.)
As you wander this place, you see an animal approaching swiftly. Note what sort of animal it is, how it approaches you, whether it seems to be pleased that you are there or acting aggressively. Pay attention to any specific characteristics such a color, size and sex, and whether it is accompanied by others. Note also if it shifts forms, even into another species entirely. (Two minutes.)
Converse with the animal. Ask it why it is there. If it has acted aggressively, make sure you inquire as to the reason. Find out what the animal has to teach you. Ask how you may strengthen the bond with it. (At least three minutes, preferably five to seven or more if desired.)
It is now time to return to the waking world. Thank the animal for its time and teachings, and promise that you will continue the conversation at a later time. If you wish, gift the animal with a food it likes or other boon. Then turn and go back to the tunnel and return back to the upper world. (At least three minutes.)
As you come back out of the tunnel, start to become aware of your body again. Begin to move slowly, starting with your fingers and toes, then working up your limbs, then your torso and finally your neck and head. Save opening your eyes for last. Don’t rush it; give yourself plenty of time to come back to physical reality. (Allow as much time as necessary for this; you don’t want to get the mental version of the bends by shocking your system with a quick wake-up.)
Once you’ve recovered, write or sketch what you saw in as much detail as possible while it’s still fresh in your mind. Don’t worry if it isn’t high-quality art or prose; what matters is that it reminds you as vividly as possible of your experience whenever you reflect upon it.
*I must give Peter J. Carroll a big thank-you for Liber MMM, which helped to hone my inhibitory meditation skills and enhanced this particular meditation quite a bit. I also have to thank numerous totemic authors, meditation guides and other folks that I’ve been able to trade ideas and experiences with for inspirations and idea that went into the creation of this meditation.
Wheee, another “Add a New Category” post!
Actually, this is one of my favorite aspects of my spirituality. I suppose it should be no surprise to me that I ended up gravitating towards totemism and animal magic pretty much from the beginning of my pagan/etc. path. I’ve always loved animals, ever since I was shoulder-high to a German shepherd dog. Though I’m not sure the adoration was always mutual–one of my earliest memories was of catching roly-polies and playing with them (and when you’re a toddler you don’t always understand the meaning of “gentle”). In fact, that early predatory instinct kept on as I grew up, and one of my favorite past times was catching (and releasing after a few days of observation) box turtles and garter snakes. I also read voraciously (as I still do today, as evidenced by yesterday’s post) and checked out every book I could from the local library.
My first book on totems, like so many people, was Ted Andrews’ Animal-Speak (I was elated when I finally got it signed by him this past February, after dragging the thing around with me for a decade through half a dozen moves and a flood). While I didn’t follow it religiously, it was formative to my early practice.
I already knew what my primary totem was. When I was about two or three (or so I recall), I had an experience where Wolf “met” me and made hir presence in my life known. After that point, everything was about wolves–wolf this, wolf that, I want to be a wolf (this was before I discovered therianthropy, by the way). I think I must have done at least one book report apiece on Jack London’s White Fang and The Call of the Wild every year from first through about sixth grade. The teacher just sort of shrugged and let it go. While totemism didn’t explain everything about the presence of lupine influence in my life (particularly internally) it did make a lot of sense once I had a better idea of what Wolf actually was.
There have been other, secondary totems that have come into my life to help balance out some of Wolf’s not-so-great aspects. Horse took over for most of my junior high and high school years, helping me cope with the harsh reality of being incredibly unpopular; she helped to take the edge off of Wolf’s hyper-sensitivity to aggression-submission displays. Cat came in at one point to teach me to be more graceful and in touch with beauty, and Fox has helped me to be more focused on magic. And I have called on other, tertiary, totems for help with specific problems–Badger, for example, has helped me land the past couple of jobs I’ve had, though I’ve also asked Beaver and Otter for help there.
Again, most of what I do is UPG-based, including the primary/secondary/tertiary denotations. Additionally, my observations have led me to come up with three basic theories as to what totems are:
–Archetypal beings that embody all the qualities of a particular species, to include natural history and human lore and myth, as well as the interaction with humans. This somewhat resembles Joseph Campbell’s concept of the Animal Master.
–Individual animal spirits which may or may not have been in physical bodies at some point.
–Psychological aspects of the self that embody different chunks of the psyche; just as entire pantheons can be a map of the psyche, so can a group of totems.
I see the validity of each of these, though I personally tend towards a combination of the first and third (as within, so without).
Now, please keep in mind–I am referring to *neopagan* totemism here. Traditional totemism, in the majority of extant cultures that still utilize the concept, see it as largely a group-based phenomenon. Totems are meant for clans, families, tribes. etc., and one of their main functions (generally speaking) is exogamy–determining who can marry whom with a minimal chance for incest (something that’s much more likely in smaller overall populations). In neopaganism, the tendency of some totemic systems to act as guides for morals, as well as the general symbolic quality and identification purposes got mixed in with the idea of an individual animal spirit guide (particularly as taken from certain Plains Native American tribes, often in a bastardized manner). Additionally, the power animal of shamanic traditions got mixed in there as well, along with the “travel down the tunnel” method of finding said animal. So what passes for totemism in neopaganism today is actually a hybridized creation.
Not that it isn’t effective, of course. We live in a much more individual-based society, and lack the community cohesion that other cultures have had. Therefore it’s not surprising that we have a much more self-centered conception of totemism. And, in my experience, the totems I work with don’t seem to mind the “unorthodox” manners in which I’ve worked our relationships into a modern, middle-class urban American neopagan lifestyle.
So how do I work with them? I include some that I’m actively working with in my prayers in the evening (and morning, if I’m awake enough to remember). I also routinely evoke (and sometimes invoke) them in magical rituals for specific purposes, and I always invite them (or whoever’s willing to show up at that time) into my ritual area for general protection and aid. Sometimes when I do skindancing (shapeshifting dance involving animal skins) I’ll invoke the corresponding totem as well as the spirit of the skin. And, as I mentioned earlier, I have totems who work with me for specific purposes; I don’t do formal rituals with Lynx, but she helps remind me to watch my words and try to remain civil, especially in the event of internet-based stupidity. And Wolf is a constant presence in my life; sometimes I’m not even sure where s/he really affects me, because s/he’s always been there.
I’ve also been reaching out to less common totems as of late. For example, I’ve been working with “food totems”, the totems of animals that are generally perceived as food in American culture–Chicken, Pig, Crab, etc. (You can see two articles I’ve written on my results so far, here and here.) I’ve also done some work with paleolithic and earlier extinct totems, including dinosaurs; later posts may include my notes from these meditations and experiences. And I’ve been working with the totems of endangered species to give an added magical boost to mundane efforts to preserve the last remaining physical members of their species (along with activism and minding my footprint, of course).
I do like the “fly through the tunnel” flavor of meditation/journeying to meet with totems outside of a ritual context, though I do it freestyle rather than with any sort of script. It’s an effective way to meet on neutral ground, so to speak (not that I worry I’ll get eaten by Bear for no good reason, Siberian dismemberment rituals notwithstanding). And I like the setting better, especially if my ritual room is the only other choice at the time–while it’s comfy and warm, blue carpet and light bulbs aren’t the same as grass and sunlight. If I can do my work outdoors, I do, and generally get the best results that way.
The totems have appreciated the increased attention as of late, though they’re patient with me, and there’s still a lot more for me to do. I’m trying to figure out ways to allow them into my daily life more often, other than observation, general presence during ritual work, and hikes in the woods. While I’m doing some exploring with different groups of totems right now, I want to start deepening my relationship with certain ones, as well as the skin spirits I dance with. Additionally, I want to step up my efforts as far as magic for endangered species’ totems go.
So I think a lot of my practice will focus on that. I’ve already got ideas for what I want to do for the equinoxes and solstices (including rethinking the way I do rituals). But I would also like to utilize the full and new moons as well–I’ve been needing regular involvement, and I need to figure out what the special occasions are. Actually, I already have had the new moon set aside for work with skin spirits, so perhaps the full moon will be time for totems. Last night was the peak of the full moon, but I consider the day before and after to also be valid. And, in this case, it’s less about lunar energy and more about reminding me of what I need to do.
I’ve been blessed by the totems’ patience in my life, and I’m glad they’ve stuck with me even when I’ve demonstrated the ability to be a supreme procrastinator and excuse-maker.
Thank the gods I’m a bibliophile.
I don’t want to try to create therioshamanism out of absolutely nothing. Believe me, I tried figuring out things entirely on my own without any help whatsoever when I was much younger. It resulted in things like “I feel energy–it must be….A PSYCHIC ATTACK!!!” and “I KNOW that if I just TRY hard enough, I’ll be able to turn into a wolf for real! Okay, I’m doing it! I think….okay, any time now….is this where I’m supposed to clear my mind of all impure thoughts….?”
I very quickly learned the value of Talking To Other People Who Have Been There. Not only did they have suggestions from their own experiences, but they often provide suggested reading material. There are, of course, advantages and disadvantages to both of these. You can’t ask a book a question, but in-person conversations don’t come pre-edited by professionals. So over time I learned how to determine which people were most likely flakes, which ones were strange but had solid ideas, and which ones were pretty close to consensus on a number of pagan and magical topics. I also figured out how to determine what sorts of books each (very general) type of person either wrote and/or recommended. (I also learned that “flake” and “consensus” could be pretty damned subjective, with people in general as well as pagan/occult folk.)
I have been talking quite a bit to friends and acquaintances about what I’m doing, playing mental racquetball by bouncing ideas off their heads. (They’re good sports about it.) However, I’ve also been reading (or re-reading) every book in the house on shamanism and related topics as a way of refreshing my memory on specific details (my memory is spotty, thanks to long-term sleep deprivation, one reason why blogging has become my friend). And I’ve been buying books as I can afford them; my husband has been pretty good about keeping me from decimating our budget by curbing my attempts to significantly reduce my Amazon wish list (to which I’ve been adding anything that’s been suggested or otherwise looks worthwhile)–and believe me, this is a tough temptation to fight off when I live a ten minute bus drive from Powell’s City of Books!
Let it be said that I realize books aren’t a perfect resource. But then again, neither are people-in-person. In fact, there’s no such thing as a perfect resource, which is why a combined viewpoint is best, as far as I’m concerned. However, given that I have three hours of commuting a day, five days a week, for the foreseeable future (or until my two and a half year contract is up) I have plenty of reading time. And I’m incredibly independent, so self-teaching isn’t a problem (with, as I mentioned, talking shop with others as a balancing point).
It’s been an interesting experience, particularly when revisiting books I’ve read before. For example, I recently finished reading Michael Harner’s The Way of the Shaman for the fourth time, cover to cover, since I got it a decade or so ago. Needless to say, I’m not as thrilled about it as I used to be. It feels incredibly incomplete; there’s something important about cultural context when it comes to shamanism, and the problem is that Harner does a shoddy job of removing the culture-specific context from the techniques. Now, granted, having been a Chaos magician for a few years (and still being influenced by it to some extent) the idea of boiling magic down to its bare-bones components isn’t unusual. However, Peter J. Carroll did a much cleaner job of it.
One book that I’ve thoroughly enjoyed, and that will probably be a good guidebook for me is Piers Vitebsky’s The Shaman. It’s an anthropological look at shamanism in traditional societies worldwide. He does a good job of showing just how diverse the practices included under the umbrella of “shamanism” really are. For example, while he covers cultures that use soul-flight (such as the Siberian shamans), he also looks at the Sora of India, who utilize mediumship and channelling. Additionally, unlike Harner and other neoshamans, Vitebsky demonstrates how shamanism is for more than just healing, and how thoroughly enmeshed the shaman is in the community s/he lives in. While I don’t think I can become an uber-1337 shaman by reading this book a hundred times, it is *one* good model that I want to work with in creating my own (neo)shamanic system.
I have a number of other books, of course, on the reading pile. I want to re-read Hillary S. Webb’s Exploring Shamanism to see if I like it as much as I did last time; it’s neoshamanism, but the author is quite honest about that. I also recently got a copy of Graham Harvey’s Shamanism: A Reader, which I’m looking forward to digging into.
Not everything will be incorporated, of course. I recently gave a two-star review to The Celtic Shaman by John Matthews. And I’m not even going near people like Lynn Andrews or Brooke Medicine Eagle. I did get a copy of The Teachings of Don Juan by Carlos Castaneda, mainly to say that I’ve read something of his cover to cover (I still don’t think I’ll be impressed, though, given all the evidence pointing toward don Juan Matus’ questionable existence).
I’m actually not looking for how-to books in specific. From what I’ve seen they tend to be primarily 101-level books that go over the same basic techniques. Rather, I’m interested in concepts. I have enough experience with magic in general (to include neoshamanic practice) that I can generally figure out how to do something even if it isn’t described in step-by-step detail. A good example of this is Eligio Stephen Gallegos’ The Personal Totem Pole. Gallegos is a psychotherapist who created a method of therapy involving meditating to find the totem animals of each of the seven chakras and having conversations with them to find out the roots of various issues. The book itself is actually a case study meant for other professionals to use, and doesn’t have any how-tos in it. However, reading through, it’s pretty easy to figure out what to do.
This doesn’t mean I don’t know everything. A recent experience with trance possession reminded me that there are certain techniques that, while I may know the general concept, require more than just flying by the seat of my pants. Which is where I start looking for more specific books–and start talking to people who have had this sort of experience. The sort of thing, though, that requires this kind of action is less likely to be found in how-to books, and more in discussions and studies. You can only go so deep with how-tos; when I write my own books, for example, I don’t give step-by-step instructions. Rather, I give the concepts, anecdotes that illustrate how I used them, and then some suggestions on how the reader might try incorporating the concepts into their own practices. And that’s what I’m basically after for myself.
(And yes, I am open to suggestions.)
Therioshamanism 
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