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My Huichol Experience: Memories and Reflections from a Shamanic Healing Journey

By Joyce C. Mills, Ph.D.

How does one begin to write about a life-changing experience? It was five weeks after returning

from Mexico before I was able to record a single word. Not because I didn’t want to, but

because of a serious ruptured disc that left me immobile and in extreme pain. As it is with all

challenges, it was forcing me to grow and look at the messages woven within the discomfort. I

am still learning.

Beginnings –

My first recollection of how the journey began brings me back to January 2004, having lunch

with Dr. Carl Hammerschlag, a dear friend, colleague, and someone I call “brother.” Carl told

me about meeting a wonderful man named Fernando Ortiz-Monasterio while on what Carl calls

a “Boy’s Trip, in Baja, California. It seems Fernando, an engineer who has been working with

the Huichol people for over fifteen years, was instrumental in bringing back the sacred white

tailed deer to the people, and building a much needed bridge over one of the rivers in Huichol

territory. Upon learning that Carl was a psychiatrist, who had spent a lifetime working with

Native Americans, and that he had seen such possession, Fernando told Carl about a serious

problem that plagued the children and the community for some 10 years. The problem

manifested as a type of hysteria, whereby the children or community people would hallucinate,

become violent, run away, and were extremely difficult to physically restrain. Fernando asked

Carl if he thought he could help in some way, to which Carl responded by saying, “Maybe” and

offered to correspond.

Carl sat back in his chair and asked me what I would do in such a situation, and if I thought that

an effective intervention could be made in such a just a week’s time. For some inexplicable

reason, I immediately replied by saying “yes,” and went on to share some of the natural healing

approaches I used to help the children and families heal after a fierce hurricane whipped

through the tiny Hawaiian island of Kaua’i in 1992. I said that I didn’t know for sure if all of the

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approaches would work, but I was confident that rather than trying to see everyone

individually, community healing was the way to go when there is mass devastation.

The next afternoon I received a call from Carl asking me to join the American team, which

included John Koriath, a research psycho-physiologist who was also on the “Boy’s Trip” with

Carl when he met Fernando. Knowing John for close to twenty years, I felt a kindred spirit of

shared healing beliefs with him as well. Carl told me that Fernando was organizing the team

from Mexico which would include his brother Pablo, who is a photo journalist and would be

responsible for taking the pictures throughout the trip. We chose a date and I immediately felt

an energetic wave flash through my body…a feeling I cannot explain other than to use the word

“numinous.”

A week or two after Carl’s invitation, I began to experience a gripping pain clutching the back of

my thigh. Being someone who is not used to physical pain, I thought I could ignore it. But by

mid-March it became increasingly uncomfortable, so I zipped myself off to the chiropractor and

received treatment and acupuncture. I told him about the upcoming trip and he reassured me

that I would be okay. However, the pain continued and at times increased. Still thinking it was a

sprained muscle, I engaged in mild exercise, massage, and continued chiropractic treatment

until it was time to leave for the trip. I was worried about it, but nothing could have prevented

me from going. My heart was already there.

In the meantime, I learned more and more about the Huichol people, their history, beliefs,

customs, rituals, and sacraments related to the deer, maize, and peyote (hikuri). Carl, John, and

I had two conference calls and numerous emails with the intention of sharing whatever we

learned. Along with sharing informative emails with Fernando, Carl, and John, I also started to

communicate with Marta, a Mexican woman who was going to be part of the team Fernando

had organized in Mexico. A healer in her own right, Marta shared the ways of the Huichol

women and what would be appropriate for me to take and wear in the village. I already had a

picture of what I would do with the children, but remained opened to suggestions and

possibilities.

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Aggie’s Shawls

About a week prior to leaving, I called Aggie Todechine, a woman I call “sister” from the Navajo

(Dine’) tribe. I told her about the upcoming trip and what I had learned about the Huichol

people. I told her that I had a dream that I should bring shawls made by Aggie on the trip. One

would be for Marta for helping me, one would be for the village to be used as a healing blanket,

and one would be for me. I wanted a new shawl to begin this journey.

As it turned out, Aggie made four beautiful shawls, all with fringes and Navajo designs: one

shawl was turquoise, one was a deep rose-pink, a very large one that was maroon with fringe

made out of ribbons. Aggie said that she never made such a shawl. We both agreed that this

shawl would be given as the healing blanket. The fourth shawl was small and yellow, which

Aggie said she made for a child. I knew that while we never met the Huichol people, it was a

shared way of prayer and use of sacrament that was bringing us all together. After talking about

the upcoming trip, the Huichol people, and the shawls, we rolled a tobacco smoke, burned

cedar, and prayed for healing and a good trip. Little did I know at this time that Aggie’s

children’s shawl would become a pivotal part of our Healing Journey.

The Journey

On the morning of April 25th, Carl, John, and I eagerly boarded an America West plane, and a

few hours later landed in Guadalajara. After going through customs we were greeted by our

Mexican “angels” as I like to think of them, Marta, translator and exceptional healer, Pablo, our

poet and journalistic photographer, and Fernando, engineer and known as “the driver.” Our

connection had been forged with smiles, hugs, excitement, and trust.

Fernando, Pablo, Marta, and Jesus, a

Huichol man in traditional dress led us

to the large white bus-like van that was

packed to the gills with suitcases,

duffle bags, a table, chairs, cooler and

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such. Every inch of the van was utilized to the max. We climbed into the van and off we went to

the town of Huejuquilla, where we would have our first night’s sleep. After ten grueling hours

of driving over a cattle-track road, we poured ourselves out of the van and crashed in a local

hotel.

After a good night’s rest, we were up very early the next morning, ate a sumptuous Mexican

breakfast and off we drove to the first village. Marta and I sat in the last row of seats and

talked, talked, talked. It was as if we had known each other all of our lives. In the meantime,

the pain in my leg was already increasing in severity, but at this time I felt I could deal with it. I

was more focused on the trip.

As we arrived at the entrance to the remote homeland of the

Huichol people, I began to feel the ancient spirits beginning to sing

their songs. This had been their homeland for some 30,000 years

and it was clear that being here is a gift of spirit. We all got out of

the van and said a prayer for our purpose and for the people.

When we got to the village,

Pablo, Fernando, Marta,

Carl, and John began to

unpack our mountain of

gear and supplies. At the

same time, we noticed that

our presence brought out a playful curiosity from the local

children. One by one, I saw their beautiful faces peeking

out from behind pueblo buildings. In order to begin to

bridge a relationship with them, I searched my duffle bag

and found the turtle puppet I had brought along and

began to play with them. First, by pretending the turtle

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was shy by bringing its head within the shell, then slowly peeking out from the shell, and then

letting it look around at the children. Wide eyed and smiling they began to come closer from

every direction, each wanting to be touched and even kissed by “BT” (my turtle puppet’s

name). We chased each other, laughed, hugged, and played until all of the gear was unpacked.

After all our supplies were brought into the room that was provided for us, we each arranged

our individual sleeping areas. Having a room to sleep in was an unexpected treat, as we all

thought we would probably just be camping outside. With this in mind, I spontaneously

commented, “We’re at the Ritz Carlton. This is more than wonderful.” While seeming

humorous at the time, I truly meant it. There was no place I would have rather been.

There was a huge tree in the

center of the village which

seemed to be the perfect

gathering place. Some of the

villagers brought us chairs on

which to sit so that we could all

meet and talk about why we

were there. They shared what

they have been going through

over the years and what they

hoped we could do for them. Soon more and more people began to gather, and openly talked

about the pain, fear, and despair they felt for years. They also mentioned that they thought it

was particular Maracames (shamans) who caused the problem. As we spoke, more people

began to gather and further introductions were made.

Fernando translated while Carl spoke first. He talked about why we were there and our heart-

felt hope to be able to be of help in some way. Carl also told the story of the two-headed fear

snake, with the message that we can never run faster than our fear. We must find ways to face

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the fear in order to heal. While the parents and elders listened intently, Carl started to explain

that the problems they were facing were what could be called a conversion disorder, but

perceptively John picked up that a more understandable term would be to call their problem an

“Inside/Outside” disorder and told them that fear has to be faced directly in order for healing to

take place. What was inside needed to be brought outside and only then can something from

the outside come inside. This explanation matched Carl’s story perfectly and it seemed to sew

the seeds of hope for the people. We knew that the Huichol people were facing two forces,

light and dark, good and evil, and that in order for healing to take place, the two forces needed

to be brought together in full circle.

After Carl finished addressing the community, we each introduced ourselves with the help of

Fernando’s fluid and sensitive translation. We agreed that we would all be here to meet under

the tree to talk with them whenever they needed to talk. Carl also said that he would be there

to meet with anyone who needed to be seen for a medical concern. We decided to transform

our sleeping quarters into “the clinic,” a private place where people could share their medical

concerns and be examined.

After a sumptuous dinner prepared by Fernando, Marta and a local family, we met with all of

the children in their school yard. Once again, Carl repeated his fear-snake story and also

performed some magic. The children

remained engaged throughout Carl’s

presentation. Then John and I spoke,

letting them know that in the

morning we would be meeting with

all of them and we would do special

drawings that would help them

“draw out” the intense fear and bring

in feelings of joy.

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When we all settled in our room, I opened the huge duffle bag I had packed with toys, paper,

crayons, miniature animals, bubbles, mini-pinwheels and such. Everyone shared their ideas of

how to work with the children and use the toys. I was clear about the approaches I had

envisioned, but remained open to unforeseen shifts that could occur. As I saw it, each child

would be given two pieces of blank paper and three or more crayons. They would be asked to

draw their fear and then those drawings would be collected. We would then ask them to draw

what makes their hearts happy, to draw their joy. They would keep those drawings. I felt a bit

of fear myself and sensitivity to the enormity of the task at hand. The faces of the parents,

elders and children seemed to dance through my mind until I was finally able to sleep.

The Draw-Bridge to Healing

As a delightful surprise, Fernando awakened us with a beautiful song and a delicious cup of

coffee…ah drink from the Gods. I commented again how this was definitely the Ritz with room

service and entertainment. We laughed, dressed, and ate breakfast.

Before we left for the school, I gave Marta the shawl Aggie had made. I told her about Aggie,

how we prayed over them when she gave

them to me, and about the spiritual

significance of the shawl. We each

wrapped ourselves in our shawls as if

wrapping ourselves in colorful butterfly

wings and proceeded to walk down to the

school.

On the way, Marta said that she didn’t

really work with children; however, I had no doubt that her innate healing energy and tender

presence spoke more than words. There were approximately fifty-five adolescents gathered in

a large classroom, along with their teachers. Marta and I introduced ourselves again. While the

paper and crayons were being distributed, we explained about the purpose of the drawings.

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Marta’s flowing gift of translation seemed to help the children clarify any of their concerns. We

also agreed to begin with a Heart-Meditation, first asking them to put their hands over their

heart, take some slow deep breaths, and guiding them on an inward healing journey. Working

with Marta was seamless. It was as if we had known each other for years. I am sure that her

melodious voice and Spanish translation communicated my words to reach a much deeper level

than I could have imagined.

When the children opened their eyes, they began drawing their fears and worries. Each child

was focused and intent on transmitting the symbols of their struggles onto the paper. As they

drew, it remained quiet for some time. Then they talked with each other, sharing their

drawings, and asked many questions.

When the children were finished with their drawings of fear, I asked them to take out the

second, blank sheet of paper and draw what made their hearts happy…what brought them joy.

Some of them started to giggle, and we knew they were thinking about something sexual. I

commented that it was okay to draw “that” also. The smiling continued. As they drew, a chant I

had sung many times with my Native American relatives came to my mind and I began to sing.

When I finished, Marta told me that the children liked it and wanted me to continue chanting.

Of course, I did so.

When they were finished drawing, I asked them to look at the first picture and notice what they

experienced when they looked at that picture. One after one, they talked openly about feeling

afraid, pain, and worry. They talked about how it affected their bodies as they looked at the

wolves, snakes, trees with arms, and other hurtful symbols.

I then asked them to look at their “Joy picture” and notice what they experienced. Again, each

teenager talked about happiness, the pain was gone, good feelings. They drew such symbols as

flowers, hicuri, deer, maize, and birds. One girl asked what they should do if the disorder came

back. I suggested that she was holding the healing in her hands. By doing the drawings, she

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would be able to release the fear and by drawing the joy, she would awaken the healing

“medicine.” I also told the teens that they could keep the drawings of joy along with the

crayolas.

We collected all of the drawings of fear and repeated that we would be taking them to Teakata,

the Holiest of Holy ancient places and offer them for their healing. I told them about the

children’s shawl Aggie made and that the drawings would be wrapped in the shawl for

protection. I also said that the chants that I sung were sung in the tipi as medicine songs.

The children were visibly more relaxed and happy. They expressed their feelings and asked me

to end with another chant, which of course, I did.

After a short break, Marta went to help Carl in the clinic. Pablo and John came down to the

school to work with me and the elementary school children. We were told there were about

175 plus enrolled. We were given permission to use the library, which was a large room with

round tables and chairs. We distributed the paper before the children arrived, but held off with

the crayons until they were in their seats. There were also three teachers their lending their

support and invaluable help. We needed everything translated from English to Spanish to

Huichol. As we prepared, we noticed

the faces of mothers, fathers, elders

and little children peeking in the

windows.

All of the elementary school-age

children then came into the room

and were guided to seats. After all

were seated, many other younger

children came streaming into the

room and sat on the floor around Pablo, John and me. We were surrounded by a sea of shining

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faces with flashing dark eyes. The energy was very strong and I could feel the emotions welling

up in my heart.

The crayons were distributed and I began once again telling the children what we were going to

do. I was quite demonstrative in my actions as Pablo translated in Spanish and the teachers

interpreted what he said in Huichol.

The children began drawing their fear pictures

without hesitation. Each drawing was more gripping

than the other. One boy took careful time to draw

the wolf that haunted him in his visions to such an

extent that he garnered the attention of the other

boys around him. All of the children took their time

and drew. I began to chant again letting them know

that these were healing songs. Pablo encouraged

me to keep chanting throughout the process. The children became engaged talking to one

another about their pictures. After giving them a short time to share their images, we collected

their fear pictures and assured them we would be taking them to the sacred Holy place as an

offering for their healing.

The children were then asked to draw their pictures of joy on a second piece of blank paper.

Again, the children drew, talked amongst themselves, and shared their drawings with their

friends. The little ones in the front drew as well. The themes and symbols were relatively the

same with these children as they were for the adolescents with

whom we were with

earlier that morning.

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After the children finished their joy pictures and shared their feelings, something quite

unexpected happened. They began to come up to me and give me their drawings. I asked Pablo

to tell the children that they are to keep these drawings. They were to remind them of

happiness and joy in their hearts. Pablo looked at me and said, “No, Joyce they are giving them

to you as a gift. They want you to have them.” Pablo, John and I looked at one another and

could see tears in our eyes. Then all of the children (over two hundred) rushed up to hand me

their pictures. It was an ocean of beautiful faces I shall always remember.

After we finished working with these children, Pablo, John, and I walked back up to the tree

where we would gather and share some food. Carl and Marta were coming out of the house

and joined as well. Upon seeing their faces, I broke down crying. Knowing that these children

were entrusting us with the enormity of their fear and pain, along with the gift of their joy, was

overwhelming for me to deal with. We all sat together and comforted one another as we each

shared our personal experiences of working in such a profound way. Each one of us expressed

our feelings through tears and sobs. All the while, I also was dealing with the pain that seemed

to be increasing down my leg. Will I be able to go to the Holiest of Holy places on Friday? I

wondered quietly.

After a very late lunch, Carl and Marta went back to their clinic to continue their healing work

with the long line of people who were patiently waiting to be seen. John, Pablo, Fernando and I

stayed by the tree. Soon a mother and a little girl around seven years old came over to where

we were sitting. The mother said that her daughter Carlina was afraid to go back to school

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because of the illness. She asked if we could help her the way we did with the children in the

school. Of course, we said yes and proceeded to give Carlina two sheets of paper and crayons. I

explained about drawing the fear and pain on the paper. She covered her face with the sleeve

of her blouse and began drawing in secret. As she was drawing, her older brother Emilio, came

by with a few of his friends. He was about eight or nine years old. With a strong voice, he

announced that he had done the drawings in the school, but felt there was still some fear. I

gave him some paper and crayons and asked him to draw anything else he saw as fear. Emilio

immediately began drawing and talking at the same time. Among the many symbols he drew

was a tree with arms trying to hold him, a Marakame holding him down, drew a cross in his

chest, threatening his family and trying to make him eat Kieri (bad medicine) and putting cactus

spikes into him, a devil, and a wolf trying to kill him. With each symbol he drew, the boy said

“NO, you can’t hurt me. You can’t hurt my family!” to each of his attacker’s threats. John and I

looked at one another and realized this was the classic Hero’s Journey, mythologist Joseph

Campbell described so well. We reiterated each ordeal back to the boy along with his strong

response of “NO!” I said he had a strong heart and John continued by telling the boy, “Yes, you

have the heart of a lion.” And then pulled out a small toy lion and gave it to the boy. With eyes

wide and a big smile, the boy accepted the gift. He then asked, “What if the fear comes back,

what if they come back?” John got closer to the boy and said there is one thing to remember,

one thing that will work. Do you want to know what it is?” Still wide eyed, and with his friends,

mother, and sister still watching, he said “Si.” John bellowed a hearty deep-gutted laugh, “HA!

HA! HA! and told the boys to laugh with us. We all laughed and laughed together.

In the meantime, his sister Carlina was finished drawing. I gave her a little spring butterfly and

as I spread the wings, I told her that she had the heart of butterfly who could fly so high and

touch and be touched by all of the beautiful flowers. She took the butterfly and gave me a hug.

Her mother had tears in her eyes and thanked us. Carlina said she could go back to school now.

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Later that day little Carlina found me while I was taking a walk. She extended her little hand and

looked up at me with soft dark eyes saying “Mi Amiga. Mi Amiga.” It was a gift I shall forever

hold dear.

After a long day of healing work stretching well into the night, we talked about the possibility of

meeting with the Marakames mentioned in the children’s drawings. Fernando made the

necessary arrangements for us to go to visit with them the following morning.

The Visit

I thought it was to be a short hike and felt I would be okay to go. However, soon into the hike, I

found it very difficult. I held onto my walking stick and a Huichol man, Marcos, who was helping

me. I was walking as fast as I could to keep up with the group, but I was already concerned that

I was holding them up. Suddenly, while walking down a steep incline, I lost my footing and fell

on the jagged rocks. My right forearm immediately began to bruise and swell. My right thigh

was also bruised, but I felt okay to continue on. However, by now I was inwardly questioning if I

would be able to go to the Holiest of Holy places on Friday, because the pain that was searing

down the back of my left leg was getting worse.

After over an hour of hiking very difficult and steep terrain, we entered Eutimio’s (the

Marakame’s) ancient family compound of adobe homes and sacred temples. We were

welcomed into the ceremonial center by the 81 year old shaman and his son. We gathered to

sit in a circle, while the women and children watched nearby as Fernando introduced each of

us. Carl was sensitive and caring as he shared our deepest respect and hopes for healing for the

children. He said that this was not about blame, but instead to find a way to heal what has

separated them and bring blessings to the people. We each shared what was in our hearts for

healing. Then John brought up the children’s drawings in which Eutimio was named as one of

the Marakame’s who inflicted the illness. Eutimio immediately got upset and walked away. His

son was also upset and began saying why would his father do such a thing? He has fourteen

children, eighty-seven grandchildren and forty-eight great-grandchildren. He mentioned how

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his father had been recently imprisoned and some had wanted to hang him. The moment grew

tense, but it was this very confrontation that brought deeply felt issues to the surface. As John

called it, a good-cop, bad cop scenario.

The focus came back to healing not blame, and our

purpose of being there was in hopes of him giving us an

offering to include in a ceremonial bundle that we could

take to the “Holiest of Holy.” Eutimio and his son looked

visibly calmer. It was then he took off his sacred hat and

gave it to Carl. Carl then took off his baseball cap and gave

it to this beautiful old shaman. He then invited Carl and

Pablo into his sacred private temple. When they came out,

Eurtimio gave Carl a Muvieri, a prayer stick with feathers

attached and tied it to his hat.

After they emerged from the temple, Eutimio wanted Carl

to examine him, which he did. He asked Carl to look into his eye. Carl did so and shared his

heartfelt and medical thoughts. The trust between two healers was forged. Before we left, he

wanted us to chant for him; which we did with joy and spirit. I felt tears well up in my eyes as

we sang. To be invited to sing in such a sacred place engendered feelings beyond words with

the memories forever etched in my heart.

We hiked to the second Marakame’s compound from there and received a warm welcome once

again. After a short time with him, again sharing the hope for healing for his people, he gave us

an offering for the ceremonial bundle to show his hope for healing as well.

The hike back was agonizingly difficult for me. I could barely take more than five steps without

having to stop. My breathing was shallow and I needed to drink water at every stop. My sweet

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group remained continuously supportive and loving as I struggled. I don’t like feeling like I was a

burden, but that is how I was feeling.

After returning back to Nuevo Colonia, I had planned to do more creative healing work with the

children, but it was just not possible. I could barely take off my hiking boots myself. It was then I

noticed that the soles of my boots were coming unglued. I saw this as a clear sign not to go on

the upcoming intensive hike to the Teakata, especially since I had just had the boots repaired

and received assurance from the shoemaker that they were fixed.

In the early evening, one by one, Carl, Marta, John, Pablo and Fernando came to where I was

lying down and talked to me about the hike to the Teakata. They each said it was much more

treacherous than today. I told them that I understood what they were saying and that I was

praying for the right decision.

Later that night Fernando came and told us that there was something very special happening

and we had to go. It was a very special ceremony honoring Christ and their way of prayer. We

entered an old structure with a large alter in the front. The room was filled with villagers. The

people were lighting candles, making offerings, and praying. The Christ was dressed in a

traditional Huichol skirt. I kneeled down with my candle, gave an offering, and prayed for

strength and clarity. I was then offered a sweet cocoa drink and enjoyed this ceremonial

evening with my sweet brothers and sister.

Giveaway

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Thursday morning we all gathered around the sacred tree. We told everyone about the meeting

with the two Marakames, their offerings, and about our plan to wrap the children’s drawings in

the yellow shawl. Then wrap all of the offerings in a

large red cloth including the yellow shawl and take

it to Teakata and offer it in ceremony. The

community expressed themselves, sharing feelings

of gratitude and hope that the healing continues.

One elder man said he believed they are going to

be alright again. He had tears in his eyes as he

spoke. My eyes and heart were filled with tender

appreciation for his ability to speak up for what he wanted and felt

he had received … healing.

Then all of the children and teenagers in their colorful traditional

dress gathered in a huge circle. We expressed our gratitude to them

for their generous gift of spirit. We showed them the shawl in which

all of their drawings were wrapped and would be taken as a central

part of the offerings to their Holy of Holiest places. As we went

around to each one of the children, we shook their hands,

exchanged hugs, and handed them a small toy to hold onto as a

symbol of their healing. Each smiling face reflected what was in their heart and became the gift

I shall carry within my heart for a lifetime.

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To close, we presented the

school’s director with the large

maroon, ribbon fringed shawl

that Aggie had made. While John

and Marta helped me hold up the

shawl for the village to see, I told

him that it can be used as a

“healing blanket” for anyone who

got scared or worried. They could

wrap themselves in the shawl and

they would hear the chants, feel the prayers, and they would feel good.

He graciously accepted the gift. We went around and shook the hands of all of the parents and

elders, and with tears in my eyes left for the Grandfather village of Santa Catarina.

The Meeting for Permission

After another grueling two-hour ride down a steep and winding canyon road, we arrived in the

village of Santa Caterina. Upon entering the Village, we immediately were aware of this being

the most ancient of places. Fernando had a special letter introducing us to the “Governor,”

whose name is Jesus. We were led in the Community room through a low wooden doorway

into a large rectangular shaped room, in which there were wooden benches all around the

perimeters of the walls. I sat next to Marta, while Fernando presented the letter to the

Governor. Within a few minutes, people from the village started pouring into the room. A few

of the men were carrying rifles. We were asked to bring the offerings in and place them on the

long wooden table in front of the Governor and the others seated on either side of him. At this

point, I noticed a jail cell at the end of the room and later found out that this was where the old

Marakame had been incarcerated.

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The conversation became very tense. Would we or would we not be given permission to go to

the Holy of Holiest places and leave our offering? A woman spoke asking if we thought the

offering from the Marakame was good. She was afraid he sent it for evil. Carl explained that we

are not here to accuse, but instead to heal; to bring kieri and hikuri together in a healing circle.

Then they asked to open the children’s shawl. Fernando encouraged me to tell them about

Aggie, the shawl, and the drawings. I did as Fernando requested.

The room was packed with villagers, each one expressing him or herself. One man began crying

while he spoke. His sincerity and pain was easily felt. They each poured over the children’s

drawings witnessing their pain, fears, and illnesses all illustrated before them. They also

became intensely concerned about the offering Eutimio gave us. They thought that perhaps it

was not a good offering, but something that could do harm. They asked Carl what he thought

and what he saw when he looked in Eutimio’s eye. Fernando continued to translate the ensuing

conversation about the question and Carl responded with a soulful explanation that seemed to

quiet their concerns.

Finally after what seemed like hours, the Governor announced that he thought it was a good

thing for us to take the offerings and that he would send some of his “soldiers” with us to make

sure everything was done right. Carl and I were then asked to chant.

It was almost sunset, my heart was pounding and the clawing pain in my leg was intensifying.

The Taxi

It was now close to dinner time and I knew what I had to do. I was aware that I had to tell the

group what they already knew, that I could not go with them tomorrow to Teakata, the Holy of

Holiest places. I hobbled over the rocky terrain to the edge of the Sierra Madre and felt the

tears streaming down my face with each shaky step. Overlooking this vast ancient land I sobbed

out loud asking, “Creator why is all of this pain happening?’ I felt angry and confused at the

same time. With fists clenched I shouted “Why did YOU bring me all of this way only to keep me

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from the final destination? What did I need to learn?” I made a prayer and knew that it was

time to go and tell the rest of the group of my decision.

They were just coming out of our sleeping quarters on their way to dinner when I asked them

to stop for a moment. Choking on my tears, I proceeded to tell them of my decision.

Collectively, they huddled me in their arms and said that no matter, I would be there with them

in full spirit. That the work with the children was a central part of the offering and that it would

be given with love and prayer. Carl asked me to roll a smoke for them to take to Teakata, along

with my cedar bag, sage, sweetgrass, and salt from Kaua’i. I felt as if my heart was breaking, but

I knew it was the right thing to do.

The pain in the back of my thigh was burning as we sat and ate dinner. I was hardly able to get a

bite down and excused myself from the group. I walked out to the Madre’s edge once again and

prayed. Carl joined me and shared some personal thoughts and beautiful blessings.

We walked back to the room and I rolled a prayer smoke, and prepared my offering. I hardly

slept that night. When I awoke, the group was rousing and preparing for the ordeal that lay

ahead of them. Each came over and hugged me and offered kind and loving words in their own

way. I told them that sometimes a decision has to be made and it feels terrible, but inwardly

one knows it is the right decision. This was one of those times.

We went off to breakfast and again, I didn’t want to stay or eat. In his own inimitable way

Fernando asked if I want to go, because if I do, he said that he found a “taxi” to take me.

Incredulously, we all stopped and looked at him. Stunned, I said, “A taxi? Where in the world

could you find a taxi here?” Fernando smiled and said that he found the only boy in the village

with the only mule, and he agreed to take me on the mule if I wanted to go.

This was unbelievable, and without a moment’s hesitation I exclaimed, “Yes!” I gave no thought

to the pain I was feeling and knew this was a sign to go forward. Fernando explained that the

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mule could only go so far, to what is called the “Mother Cave,” and they would go the rest of

the way with the offering to carry out our mission. He asked if that was okay with me, and

again, I quickly responded “Of course.”

We all laughed and I cried. I asked sweet Fernando why he went to such lengths when there

was so much for him to attend to at this time. I told him that I would have been okay to stay

back. Fernando said it was because I was willing to sacrifice something so important to me for a

greater purpose. He said that he didn’t want me to stay behind. John said it reminded him of

the biblical story of Abraham and Issac. Carl laughed and said don’t get carried away.

A few hours later I found myself on the mule, holding the horn, being led by the boy, followed

by Governor Jesus and his wife, traversing the challenging pathways and steep cliffs deep into

the heart of the Mother, the Sierra Madre. I felt no fear, only the deepest sense of awe and

gratitude. The whole scene felt surreal. Looking out at the vast beauty before me, I felt a chant

emerging from my heart. I began to sing and continued throughout the ride. The funny thing

was that I had no awareness of any pain while I was riding.

After at least an hour, the boy helped me dismount as we were to walk the rest of the way to

the Mother Cave. The governor’s wife took some branches from certain trees and blessed me

as she led the way walking through dense brush, over rocks, and into an open space of cliffs, a

ravine, and the Mother Cave. We all sat together for a short while and then Jesus’ wife and the

boy went on to meet the rest of the group in the Holiest of Holy places, leaving me with the

Governor. Neither of us spoke the other’s language, but we talked for almost two hours by

using symbols, drawing in the sand, and a heart understanding. We told each other stories

about our families and beliefs. He told me that where we were sitting was the beginning place

for the Huichol people….The “Madre Terra.” It is amazing how we can communicate through

spirit and heart.

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Another boy came through the brush and they both asked me to go with them to the Mother

Cave. They assured me that they would help me with the climb and I would be fine, so I

followed with a bit of concern as the pain had not subsided. Upon entering the cave, I could feel

the intensity of prayer and see the many offerings that had been left there for centuries. The

hundreds of offerings told their own stories of those who have come before. Jesus then

reached for a gourd bowl and filled it with water that was flowing from an opening in the cave.

He told me it was “Madre Agua,” and blessed me with it and asked me to bless him and the boy

who was with us. Jesus then asked me to chant again. I can remember the sound reverberating

through my whole being. We stayed in the cave for some time and then climbed back to the flat

area near the cliff.

The boy went on while Jesus lay down and rested his head on a rock. Lying on my back, I

looked up at the cliff wall before me and it was then I saw the petroglyphs. The story was clear;

it was the Creation story of the Huichol people; the deer, the maize and hikuri (good peyote)

being one. There was a drawing of a deer with antlers from which hundreds of people emerged.

I felt a deep sense of humility to be in a place of such reverence.

After about two hours, we were joined by a few of the men who had been with our group,

followed shortly by Carl, John, Marta, Pablo, Fernando, and the rest of the Huichol guides. We

sat together and each of my precious brothers and sister shared what had occurred on their

journey to Teakata, about the ceremony and how the offerings were buried so that no one

could ever find them. They were exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. Clearly, I would

not have been able to make the journey, as it was extremely treacherous and physically

demanding. We ate lunch, talked, cried, and rested together for about an hour. Before leaving,

Jesus invited them into the cave. I heard Carl chant and felt the awesome power of this very

sacred and ancient place. It was time to go back to the village.

I mounted my four-legged “taxi” once again and they began their long hike back. As much as I

was thankful for being able to go as far as I did with the help of the mule, I couldn’t help but

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wish my body would have allowed me to go all the way. I truly wanted to be at the site where

the offering was placed, but also understood it was not possible. I remembered a story Carl

told many times about a time he wanted to climb to the top of a mountain in Arizona after

recovering from back surgery. After climbing a distance, he was halted by intense pain and

learned “Maybe this is the top,” from a man who was nearby his stopping point. The story

brought me comfort and I smiled. Maybe this was my top.

I reached the village first and waited patiently for everyone to return with a watchful eye. I

knew it was a difficult climb and prayed for their safety. We embraced as they came back into

the village. Totally exhausted, they each rested for a short time.

Fernando (the driver) then announced that we would be leaving that night and drive to the first

town we stayed in, sleep, and then go the rest of the way to Guadalajara the following morning.

So after a full day of hiking and mule riding, eating another gourmet dinner prepared with love

by Fernando, Marta and another Huichol family, we met with Jesus and his wife to say goodbye.

I decided to give them my rose-pink shawl. It was clearly to be left with them as we had done at

the school. I told them about Aggie and then presented it to them. Jesus’ wife and I hugged and

shed tears.

Our Return

With packed belongings, we loaded our exhausted selves into the mini-bus, and began the long

ride to Huejuoilla. Marta moved to the front with Carl and Fernando to give me room to lie

down and stretch my leg out in the back seat. Throughout the hours of driving over some of the

most treacherously bumpy road conditions I have ever been on, the pain was beyond

excruciating. While the joke became “we only had twenty more minutes and we’d be there,” as

much as I wanted to, I wasn’t laughing at this point.

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During the drive, John thought this would be a wonderful opportunity for each of us to share

our recollections about the trip and offered the digital recorder he brought along for just such a

purpose. The memories flowed until we reached our destination after ten hours.

After checking into the hotel, we went out for a bite to eat at the push-cart by the town square.

We ate tacos and burritos and boy, were they yummy.

We were awakened very early the next morning by Fernando and were on the road within half

an hour. We stopped in a small town along the way for a scrumptious breakfast and then on to

our final destination of Guadalajara, where Fernando and Marta had arranged for us to all stay

in a luxurious hotel, enjoy a delicious dinner, and meet with another healer before we returned

to Phoenix. Many things happened that night, but the pain I was experiencing gripped not only

my body, but also my mind. There was no way I could consciously participate in the

conversation or contribute to what was being shared.

Mule Wisdom

When I returned, I went for an MRI and found out that I had a seriously ruptured disc. Within

the next three weeks I had two epidurals, went for physical therapy, and had a medicine

healing from my Uncle Jerry, a Roadman from the Dine’ tribe. I was pain-free and enjoyed

returning to my normal activities. I knew there was a great meaning in all of this, but as it is

with all life-lessons, the meanings reveal themselves when it is time.

While trying to fall asleep one night, I thought about my “taxi,” the mule, sacrifice, and

wondered what it all meant. The next day I was on the phone talking to a good friend who was

going through very difficult cancer treatments. Sandra Hedke had been a vibrant, self-sufficient

woman, and a play therapist who dedicated her life to the healing of children. Now she was

tearfully expressing how she was feeling like a burden to everyone. I looked up and saw the

miniature mule I have sitting on a shelf over the desk on which I do my writing. It was then that

this teaching came to me and I shared it with my friend.

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I believe that in life we need mules to help carry us when we need to be carried. They help us

traverse the land that is rough and challenging when we cannot do it ourselves. They remind us

that there is support when we need it. As healers, we have to decide to be the mule, to supply

support to those in our care and help them get to wherever they wish to go. We cannot take

them to where we want them to go, but instead, must listen carefully to where they wish to

travel on their life’s journey. We also need to know when it is time to ask for our own mule to

carry us in times of need. Yes, sometimes we truly need to be the mules, and sometimes we

need our own mules. I am forever grateful for mine and for those who are in my life in so many

ways.

I ended the conversation with my friend by saying, “Let me be your mule.”

Mi Takuye Oyacin – To All My Relations

Joyce

Special appreciation and acknowledgement is given to Pablo Fernando Monesterio for his permission to use his photographs in this article. They are not to be used in any form without his express permission. pmonasterio@mac.com

Special note: Over the years since 2004, each of us on the team has reflected on or written about our collective experiences. My narrative is from my personal recollections of the journey itself and what I ultimately learned. Dr. Carl Hammerschlag has written about this journey as well: See The Huichol Offering: A Shamanic Healing Journey (2008/2009) J Relig Health 48:246-258. www.healingdoc.com Portions of this story will appear in the revised edition of Therapeutic Metaphors for Children and the Child Within. Scheduled release 2013/2014 – English & French.