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Spirit Talkers

Spirit Talkers

North American Indian Medicine Powers

By William S. Lyon

Prayer Efficacy Publishing Kansas City

Copyright © 2012 by William S. Lyon

All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced in any form, in whole

or in part, beyond that copying permitted U.S. Copyright Law, Section 107,

“fair use” in teaching or research, Section 108, certain library copying,

or in published media by reviewers in limited excerpts, without written

permission from the publisher.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012917385

ISBN-13: 978-0-9848546-0-8

Published by

Prayer Efficacy Publishing

P.O. Box 11275

Kansas City, MO 64119

Book design, typography and ebook conversion by David Forester.

Cover painting by Katrina Pruett.

Cover photography by Gerry Fierst.

Cover typography by Gale Leitch.

Back cover author photo by Trevor Forney

Author Contact:

http://spirittalkers.com/

email: [email protected]

Printed in the United States of America.

First Edition

13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 / 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2

Dedication

This book is dedicated to all the American Indian medicine people who

persistently serve to bring hope and peace of mind to humankind, and to

Prem Rawat, recognized “Ambassador of Peace” to the world, for doing the

same.

Spirit Talkers vii

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements ............................................................ ix

Preface .............................................................................. xi

Introduction ...................................................................... 1

Chapter 1 – Superstition—but whose? .............................. 11

Chapter 2 – The Work of the Devil .................................... 46

Chapter 3 – The Heart of the Matter ................................. 84

Chapter 4 – Medicine Ways .............................................111

Chapter 5 – Walking the Good Red Road .........................146

Chapter 6 – The First Men on the Moon .......................... 195

Chapter 7 – Healing and Harming Medicines .................. 234

Chapter 8 – Beyond Belief............................................... 282

Chapter 9 – Breaking the Superstition Barrier ............... 338

Appendix ....................................................................... 371

End Notes ...................................................................... 407

Bibliography ................................................................... 447

Index of Nations ............................................................ 523

Index ............................................................................. 526

Acknowledgements ix

Acknowledgements

There have been many American Indian medicine men and women

along the way—in particular Ernie Rainbow, Wallace Black Elk, Godfrey

Chips, Martin High Bear, Brave Buffalo, Francis Mitchell, Kot Lotah,

Marcellus Bear Heart, Rolling Thunder, Adam Fortunate Eagle, Thomas

Banyacya, Eagle Sun, Marilyn Young Bird, Sun Bear, Steve Red Buffalo,

the Turtle brothers, Twylah Nitsch, Archie Fire Lame Deer, Rick Thomas,

Edmore Green, and Mato—whom I have met and learned from over the

past four decades. To all of the medicine people who have taken the effort

to teach me something, I am most grateful. As you probably know, the

opportunity to attend sacred ceremonies is rarely made possible to an

anthropologist. The impetus for those invitations came actually by way of

their spirit helpers. So it is also to their spirits that I owe my deepest grati-

tude. Without those ceremonial experiences, I could never have crafted

this work.

In addition, I am particularly indebted to three professional Bay Area

colleagues whom I called upon many times over the years for guidance.

The late Dr. Ruth-Inge Heinze was a well-known expert on Southeast Asian

shamanism and associated with the Center for South and Southeast Asia

Studies at the University of California, Berkeley. She was overly generous

with both her time and advice for over 20 years. Her long-time, personal

work with a wide range of shamans from many different Southeast Asian

cultures gave her a keen insight into understanding their reality and paral-

leled my own work. My second indebtedness goes to Dr. Michael Harner,

one of the world’s foremost experts on shamanism, for his willingness to

share with me his ever-developing views within this field of study. As a

former anthropology department Chairman turned full-time researcher

and Director of The Foundation for Shamanic Studies, Dr. Harner has

acquired a formidable knowledge of the workings of shamanism. Finally,

there is Prof. Stanley Krippner of Saybrook University, America’s foremost

parapsychologist, whose encyclopedic knowledge I have called upon many

times, always resulting in a fast, informative, and utterly gracious reply.

I also wish to pay special homage to the late Dr. Evan Harris Walker.

It was under his expertise and advice that Chapter One was written. My

views on quantum mechanics are based on his groundbreaking work,

The Physics of Consciousness, published in 2000. For those wanting an

x Spirit Talkers

in-depth coverage of the interplay between human consciousness and

reality, this is the book to read. No other physicist has dealt with this

subject for as long as Dr. Walker. He was already attempting to enter

consciousness into quantum mechanics equations in the early 1970’s,

long before the proof of that necessity was established.

Finally, I wish to extend special gratitude to Godfrey Chips for clari-

fications on the history of his family, to Katrina Pruett for her orignal

cover art work, to Dr. E. Theodore Lechner and Dan Early for their helpful

editing of the manuscript, and to David Forester for his many hours spent

formatting and preparing this book for publication.

Preface xi

Preface

The sources in this book come from many different historical and

ethnographic accounts. Much of the material gathered here lies outside

the usual sources produced by scholars of the American Indians, a fact

one might expect given the earliest records predate such studies. Many of

the references are from early writings by trappers, traders, missionaries,

travelers and explorers. Other references cited here are drawn from rela-

tively obscure newspapers or magazine articles, now long forgotten. In

these early accounts details are often lacking to such an extent that they

serve only to demonstrate the American Indian’s utilization of medicine

powers. Greater detail appears in the later ethnographic accounts, but

even these are of somewhat limited value due to the secrecy that usually

surrounds the performance of medicine-power ceremonies. The task at

hand is to put this fragmentary data over time into a coherent overview.

Because this is an introductory coverage of American Indian medi-

cine powers, no effort has been made to cite all the possible references

that may apply to any footnote. In many cases, only one author is given

by way of example where many others could have been cited. That is to

say, the bibliography is more of an overview of the subject and would be

much longer if this book were intended to be a strictly scholarly manu-

script. Many applicable and worthwhile publications are not included

here. Nevertheless, the view set forth here will hopefully set into motion

different lines of inquiry regarding their medicine powers and the bibliog-

raphy should aid in that regard.

I have relied heavily on quotations throughout the text, letting others

speak in their own words. In some cases I have inserted a word or expla-

nation to help clarify a quotation. This is especially true of the earliest

accounts where the writer used terms and assumed perspectives no longer

familiar to us. For example, “juggler” was the earliest common term used

for Indian medicine people. To distinguish certain notations of my own

from the quoted material to which they have been added, I have used

brackets […], while interpositions by the original author are contained

within parentheses (…).

Introduction 1

Introduction

This book is unlike any book ever written on the American Indians. It

is an alternate approach that calls for a 180° change in the way we view

the very heart and core of American Indian cultures. I began working on

this book in 1992, thus it has taken many years to manifest before the

eyes of the general public. The view I have taken is based on four decades

of personal participation in traditional Indian ceremonies led by powerful

medicine men, many years scouring through the historical records on

Indian medicine powers of the past, and a recent monumental discovery

in quantum physics. The subject at hand is American Indian medicine

powers of North America, from earliest contact times through the present.

Many books have been written on Indian medicine people, but there has

never been an in-depth coverage of all their medicine powers per se. Most

readers will be surprised at the variety and extent of their use. More

importantly, I take the opposite view generally held and approach their

powers with the assumption they are real. Using this approach I believe it

provides a clearer understanding of exactly why medicine people do what

they do. This is another first in respect to Indian medicine powers.

One might wonder why, after over a century of studies on American

Indian cultures, no book has focused only on their medicine powers.

After all, the Indians themselves held their medicine powers in such high

regard that attention to them influenced nearly every daily activity that

took place. Furthermore, nothing occupied more constant attention than

following the sacred rules of life that enabled them to wield such powers.

Nothing took up more of their time and effort. Nothing was more sought

after. The sheer diversity of their medicine powers clearly informs us to

what extent they touched daily life. They were so very important that I

see them as nothing less than the heart and deepest core of every Indian

nation.

The answer for this void is simple. Medicine powers are seen as unreal.

That assumption has been around for so long, that it eventually came

to be seen as fact. However, any assumption turned into fact is really

nothing more than a superstition. The real fact is any notion that medi-

cine powers are merely superstition is based on faith instead of evidence.

So why did I choose the opposite view? The answer is, the “skeleton in the

2 Spirit Talkers Introduction 3

closet” of physics changed my view. Chapter 1 makes clear the direction I

have taken and why.

The “superstition” explanation for medicine powers gave rise to a taboo

that is still alive in academia—it is forbidden to view Indian medicine

powers (magic) as real. If you do, you are certain to come under attack.

For example, during the 1980’s Canadian anthropologist David Young

undertook a government-funded study on the efficacy of a Cree healer

in Alberta, named Russell Willier. When it was discovered that taxpayer

money had been used to study a “superstition” there was a public outcry

from leading Canadian scientists.

I met with a similar fate in attempting to publish this manuscript.

Originally this book was a 700-page manuscript submitted to the

University of Oklahoma Press. It was no surprise to me that Director John

Drayton approached the manuscript with a great deal of caution. After

all, I was taking a taboo point of view, but I had physics on my side.

Consequently, they were open-minded enough to submit it for reviews.

Normally that means two scholars familiar with shamanism and outside

their university must approve the scholarship of the manuscript. However,

my manuscript went through five reviews stretched out over a three-year

period—first three scholars, then a nuclear physicist, and finally an

American Indian. All five reviews came back approving the manuscript for

publication with the last reviewer being the most enthusiastic. Confronted

with these reviews the press finally accepted the manuscript for publica-

tion. However, within a week, their Faculty Review Committee refused to

allow it to be published because of the view taken. Academic freedom has

its limits.

Then I decided to submit it to the UC Press at Berkeley, a university

filled with radical ideas. After all, they were the first to publish Castaneda’s

The Teachings of Don Juan. They passed as well. Then I cut the manuscript

in half and tried submitting it to private presses—they passed, agents

passed. Finally, I submitted the manuscript to the National Museum of

the American Indian in March 2010. Having no decision from them by

August 2010, a Lakota medicine man and friend asked his spirits, during

a sweat lodge ceremony, what was up with the delay. Typical of spirits,

the answer was simple and curt, “Go in another direction!” By December

a staff member of NMAI notified me that they really liked where I was

coming from, but all their funding was tied up in collection projects. That

is the short version of a decade-long publishing journey this book has

been on. It then took several more lodges to figure out just what direction

the spirits had in mind for this book. They eventually confirmed it was

to be published as an eBook and also how it was to be introduced to the

public. Perhaps they see the Internet as getting the word around to a wider

audience at the speed they move.

It is important to point out that this book is not to be taken as a scien-

tific proof that Indian medicine powers are real. Rather it merely contends

that there is more evidence to assume they are real than to assume

they are not. Here is nothing more than a new hypothetical approach

that strives to better explain why shamanism has so many cross-culture

similarities. Why are there core similarities to all their power ceremo-

nies? Why do shamans do what they do during ceremony? So proof is

not the concern here. Before one can prove medicine power to be real or

not, scientists must first come up with a scientific means for measuring

human consciousness. Until then, proof is a moot question.

Medicine power ceremonies are a combination of art and science. In

fact, shamanism is best seen as the first form of science practiced by

human beings. That is, if you trace the roots of any science back to its

origins, you will find they all began in prehistoric shamanism. In a bit of

irony, physics has returned us to the original view held, namely that we

live in a fluid reality, not a solid one.

Chapter 2 provides a brief history of our dealings with Indian medicine

powers since first contact. Naturally “first contacts” spread over nearly

two centuries as we expanded westward. Consequently, our views have

differed over time and also among different sectors of our culture.

Chapters 3 and 4 are an application of the view developed in Chapter

1 to the realm of humans. Here I discuss how the activation of medicine

powers is directly related to the quality and quantity of focused human

consciousness present at any medicine power ceremony. Indian medicine

people are well aware of this necessity, and have many different cultural

ways of dealing with it. All of their efforts have to do with focusing one’s

consciousness down to a single point of intent and then applying that

intent in ceremony. The power of human will is the cornerstone of success

of any ceremony. That application comes mainly in the form of prayers

and songs that must come from one’s heart. These two chapters serve to

give reason to ceremonial preparations and actions.


The remaining chapters deal with the many different ways in which

medicine powers are known to have manifested. Given no one has ever made

a study of medicine powers, there is no recognized classification system

for them. Consequently, I have simply grouped their powers according to

their use—powers for war, for hunting, for finding lost persons, for weather

control, for healing, etc., even though in this system there are still many

overlaps among shamans. For example, weather control medicines are

often used in warfare as well as for crops. Furthermore, any shaman can

have different powers for numerous uses. Although every individual medi-

cine power differs in how it is acquired and how it must be used, there

is continuity in how all of them are activated. It has long been known

that shamanism around the world exhibits certain core features, such as

trance-induction. Many of these core features are clearly related to the

interplay between consciousness and matter. Consequently, in choosing

examples of the many different types of medicine powers for this book I

have tended to select those examples that best document this interplay.

A word of caution about just how much we can rationally understand

about these powers. Let me begin by pointing out that Indian medicine

people were never interested in understanding how their powers worked.

They were regarded simply as a mystery. Their focus has always been on

what does work, not how it works. Our own understanding of such powers

is limited in part by the nature of our language. We know that the way

in which we use words plays a significant role in how we view reality. I

recall a Hopi woman once warning French-born Robert Boissiere, “Words

are only boxed-thoughts.” I believe it was Alfred Korzybski who coined the

phrase “the map is not the territory” that expresses this same warning.

It means we frequently fall prey to essentially fake explanations where a

boxed-thought serves as an explanation for something. For example, to

say that medicine powers are merely the result of superstition is not an

explanation for medicine powers. It is merely the application of a boxed-

thought. In many cases boxed-thoughts have been misapplied. Another

example is Indians seen as being very religious, yet they have no orga-

nized religion in our sense of the word. Basically, there is no such thing as

an “Indian religion,” there are only conglomerations of medicine powers.

Therefore I also deal with our problems of understanding. My own view is

that our language is currently void of the necessary words and concepts

to fully understand medicine powers. One goal here is to simply arrive at

a better understanding of them given what we do know and are capable of

expressing in words.

The use of medicine powers is still found among traditional-living

American Indians, but today they are extremely rare compared to a

century ago. Currently there is but a remnant of Indian medicine people

left as compared to former times. However, their powers are never in

danger of extinction for the simple reason a medicine power once lost can

be regained at any time by another person through visions or dreams. It is

a current tragedy that most Indian medicine people are held in contempt

and live in abuse, whereas in former times they were well respected by

their own people. I have heard from more than one medicine man that

he has the hardest time with his own people. In fact, the internal strife

that arose on reservations between traditional medicine people and those

who adopted a western lifestyle became very intense in the 19th century,

especially after our government declared traditional ceremonies illegal

to perform. This lengthy conflict between “traditional” versus “progres-

sive” American Indians is discussed in Chapter 3. Unfortunately, it has

resulted in a lack of any cultural protection or preservation efforts for

Indian medicine people, at least at the national level. There are countries,

such as Japan, that view their shamans as rare national treasures.

I would like to comment on my own experiences with Indian medicine

men. They began in 1972 when I met an Apache medicine man named

Ernie Rainbow (aka Ernest P. Rodriquez). Early in life he had spent five

years living completely alone in the Trinity Wilderness area of northern

California. During those five years in isolation from civilization, he

learned more than most men learn in a lifetime. Throughout his entire

adult life Ernie never lived with the comforts of running water, electricity,

telephone, indoor plumbing, and the like. He preferred to live the old way.

He was a most humble man and never spoke of himself as medicine man.

Eventually he led an annual Sun Dance in southern Oregon up until his

untimely death in 1992 at age 61.

As an anthropologist, Ernie intrigued me from the onset. As time

passed we became the best of friends and he began to teach me of his

world, a world that my graduate training never embraced. I still remember

my first lesson—a tree-hugging session. Over the years I came to know

that he wielded abilities our scientists said were not possible.


In August of 1978 I first met Wallace Black Elk, a Lakota medicine

man from the Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota. By then he was

living in Denver, Colorado. During the course of the next decade he thor-

oughly convinced me of the reality of medicine powers. Wallace began his

shamanic training at the early age of five and had been assisted along the

way by eleven “grandfathers,” one of them being the now famous Nicholas

(“Nick”) Black Elk of Black Elk Speaks fame. From this humble and kind

medicine man I gained a formidable knowledge of Indian medicine powers.

I documented his intriguing life and use of medicine powers in Black Elk:

The Sacred Ways of a Lakota. The works of John Neihardt, Joseph Epes

Brown, Thomas Mails, Richard Erdoes and others have documented the

reality of Lakota medicine powers as well.

Working with Wallace I realized early on that my research efforts

were being scrutinized by his spirits. At one point I made a journey to

Los Angeles with Wallace, his wife Grace Spotted Eagle, and others for a

healing ceremony. We needed two cars to accommodate everyone, driving

there during the winter because it was too cold on the reservation to hold

the ceremony. In the other car was Steve Red Buffalo, who was conducting

the ceremony, along with his ceremonial assistants. We set up camp in

an isolated site in the mountains just north of Los Angeles that had a

cabin on the property. There were about fifteen people in the camp, among

which were only two white men, myself and a Los Angeles songwriter

named Duncan Pain. By then I knew enough not to sit in a ceremony and

take notes as most of the early anthropologists had done. So I did my note

writing in private on the following mornings.

On the morning after the first night of our four-night healing ceremony,

I sat alone in the nearby woods to work on my field notes. Part of my notes

included a drawing of Steve’s ceremonial altar, but I could not remember

all the details. That night I saw what was missing from my drawing.

The next morning I was having breakfast with Wallace and Grace

before going off to work on my notes. At one point Wallace suddenly said,

“Those spirits. Those spirits came in there last night. They said that white

guy is drawing a picture of that altar. They didn’t say his name, just said

white guy. He’s putting all that stuff there on paper. He’s going to put that

picture in a book. He probably shouldn’t do that. Someone might see that

picture and put up that altar. They could hurt themselves that way. (Long

pause.) Must be that Duncan guy.” Naturally, I was too stunned and horri-

fied to say anything, but at least I did throw my drawing into a fire that

day. So there are no secrets being told here.

By the 1990’s I began working closely with Benjamin Godfrey Chips,

Sr., a fourth-generation Lakota medicine man of great power. His great-

grandfather, Woptura (eventually known as “Old Man Chips”), was an

adopted brother of Crazy Horse and responsible for Crazy Horse’s invulner-

ability to bullets. His grandfather, Horn Chips, brought the yuwipi healing

ceremony to the Lakota. Today it is their most powerful shamanic healing

ritual. It can also be used for other purposes as well, such as finding lost

objects (covered in Chapter 6). My work with Godfrey has continued to the

present. So you can expect to hear accounts of my own experiences with

Wallace, Godfrey, and other medicine men over the years throughout the

text. The most important thing I have learned through these experiences

is that in order to understand medicine powers one has to understand

that reality is not fixed. Wallace often told his audiences, “You people need

to make a 180° turn.” It was his way of saying we need to understand that

reality is fluid, not solid.

In 1991 I read physicist Fred Alan Wolf’s notion that shamanism

and quantum mechanics were interrelated. Although I didn’t agree with

most of his contentions regarding shamanism, things began to click. At

about the same time I started on another project that involved an inten-

sive review of any and all published materials that pertained to American

Indian medicine powers. It was designed to document the diversity and

range of their medicine powers. That effort resulted in the publication of

the Encyclopedia of Native American Healing (1996) and Encyclopedia of

Native American Shamanism (1998). Throughout this research period it

became obvious to me that the historical reports based on direct observa-

tion gave much more credibility to medicine powers than is found today.

The records also confirmed that shamanism contains core characteris-

tics that are related to quantum mechanics, but the scientific proof for

those relationships was still undergoing tests at this time and were not

completed by physicists until 1998.

It is important to understand that medicine powers and spirits go

hand-in-hand. One early description notes, “There can be no question but

that as a race the Indians are born mystics, and it is the mystic conscious-

ness—in trance and vision—which is the most impressive feature of their

religious life.” There is little doubt that their contact with spirit powers

was indeed what really made their cultures so very different from our own.


Medicine power was the common ground that linked every Indian culture

across the barriers of language and space. Furthermore, there is a core

understanding among them about dealing with such powers. Indeed, this

understanding is what allowed medicine powers to be exchanged between

cultures in the first place. Because medicine traditions are at the very

heart and core of every Indian culture, to disregard them as merely super-

stition is to lose sight of the basic nature of traditional American Indians.

We should allow, as well as encourage, traditional American Indian

life styles to exist within our own culture. On purely Darwinian grounds,

such diversity enhances the probability of our survival in these uncer-

tain times. On a deeper level, their fundamental view of reality renders

a unique wisdom and understanding that can contribute to our own

cultural enrichment and enhancement. We would be better off with an

understanding that would not only embrace this mystery aspect of all

American Indian cultures, but would rightfully return the dignity and

respect to all medicine people they deserve and formerly held. And, yes,

there will be condescending assaults from those who have never witnessed

a shamanic ritual in their life. But those of us who have been fortunate

enough to witness their medicine powers, facts are facts. Real shamans

can do exactly what they claim they can do, regardless of our current

lack of a scientific explanation for how it is done. Hopefully, this book will

provide sufficient evidence for readers to justify such a view.

I fully understand that what is being presented here is a view of

our American Indian cultures that will be highly controversial, mainly

because it involves a radical change in our view of reality. Presented here

is a reality we no longer believe in, so much so, that we find it difficult even

to imagine. Nevertheless, it is a reality in which all traditional American

Indians flourished for thousands of years and a reality that still exist.

Once accepted, this view also redefines human potential. It speaks to a

mystery that resides deep within each person, beyond words to describe.

Traditional Indians know of this personal connection to the Great Mystery.

Much of their daily life involved aligning themselves, in one way or another,

with the powers of the Great Mystery. This is expressed today through

such terms as “walking the Good Red Road,” “following the Sacred Pipe,”

or “walking in Beauty.” These expressions indicate that being “Indian”

has more to do with the way you live your life than the color of your skin.

Therefore, on a deeper level, this book is about all human beings.

One might say that I have spent nearly four decades preparing to

publish this book. Along the way Wallace was given a Lakota name for me

by one of his helping spirits—Hohu sha, which means “Red Bone.” He told

me that it meant that I looked like a white man, but on the inside thought

like a red man. So, again, I am indebted to the many American Indian

medicine men and women that have seen fit to patiently teach me about

their ways.

Over the course of this book hopefully you will come to understand

why the American Indian’s use of medicine powers is both art and science.

In a reality seen as fluid and filled with spirits, one is compelled to deal

with medicine powers. However, what we have come to think of as “magic”

turns out not to be all that magical. Instead it involves a tremendous

amount of concentrated effort, so much so, that one may wonder in some

instances if such effort is even worthwhile. Nevertheless it gave them a

world filled with hope, where magic was an everyday affair. What we call

their taboos actually reveal their rules for handling medicine powers.

Be assured that many misconceptions still abound about shamans and

their powers, and there is still much to learn about this human phenom-

enon. However, if we are to ever fully understand our American Indians,

I believe we must begin with the assumption that their medicine powers

are a reality.

Chapter 1 Page 11

Chapter 1

Superstition — but whose?

Our laws of men change with our

understanding of them. Only the laws of

the Spirit remain always the same.

— White Wolf, Crow

Bending the Rules of Science

“I decry supernaturalism in all its forms,” declared Richard Dawkins

in his attack on belief in God.1 Most contemporary scientists adhere to

this view of supernaturalism, an assumed view that came to dominate

science during the 19th century. Carried through time, the assumption

that supernatural events are impossible eventually came to be seen as

fact. Today this view of supernaturalism is a virtual requirement of profes-

sors in almost all major American universities. Among the general public

we even have those who see themselves as professional “skeptics” or

“debunkers” whose task it is to dismiss any accounts of supernaturalism.

One might wonder how it came to pass that this mere assumption about

reality came to be seen as fact. On one level all Dawkins is really saying

is, “I declare my assumption.” Something here is amiss.

To unravel how this situation arose one needs to start with the philos-

ophy of science, the basic rules of how science is done. When it comes to

the supernatural, it would seem that scientists have distorted the ground

rules. Nevertheless, scientific inquiry does have rules of procedure. One

begins with an observation about external reality. In the case of super-

natural events there are an overwhelming number of recorded observa-

tions that have been made throughout history. No one really questions

that. Is it not a “miracle” that bestows priests and nuns sainthood among

Catholics? The history of the world is replete with detailed, eyewitness

accounts of supernatural events. Among the North American Indians,

supernatural events were a daily affair. Obviously, that’s not the problem.

The problem, then, has always been something else: namely, “How do I

scientifically explain a supernatural event?”

Spirit Talkers Chapter 1 Page 13

Eventually shamans came to be seen as evil, and we entered a witch-

burning phase of history. As our scientific, ever-outward quest expanded,

materialism became the predominant philosophy. So confident was the

scientific community in their search for the laws of nature that by the

early 1800’s they were convinced that all such laws would be discov-

ered by the end of that century. Unfortunately, Madame Maria Curie’s

discovery of radium discredited that notion. Nevertheless, the contempt

for shamans remained such that the practice of shamanism still merited a

death sentence in many lands. Even as late as the 20th century shamans

were put to death for their practice in Russia and Central America. Here

in North America, as soon as the American Indians gained U.S. citizen-

ship in 1924, Herbert Work, the former president of the American Medical

Association, called for the authorizing of the States to license Indian

doctors as a means of eliminating them.3 Soon thereafter Indian medicine

people were prosecuted for practicing medicine without a license.4 This

assault on shamans has wiped out any memory concerning their former,

widespread ability to wield medicine powers. Once most of the shamans

were either destroyed or driven into hiding, we began to believe that

such powers were never real in the first place despite the many, recorded

accounts to the contrary.

Supernaturalism has always been a part of human history in North

America. When the first humans set foot on this continent, medicine

powers were already in hand, and they remain here to this day, albeit

in only a few secluded areas. So how did it come to pass that the scien-

tific community rejected supernaturalism with such vehemence that an

assumption came to be seen as a fact? I see it mainly as the result of

the 19th century spiritualist movement. Few people remember that during

the early 1800’s scientists began to debate seriously the reality of spirits.

Those who believed in the existence of spirits were labeled “spiritualists.”

Therefore, a belief in Indian medicine powers meant you believed in “spir-

itualism.”5 This debate had little to do with the spirits called upon by

American Indians and their medicine powers. The focus was mainly on

local white mediums, who would go into trance in order to contact the

spirit world. Many of them turned out to be fraudulent, while some were

not. As the debate became more intense, more scientists began to investi-

gate mediums. Naturally, other interested persons sought them out as well.

Some of the more prominent 19th century investigators who became spiri-

tualists include Cambridge-educated mathematician Augustus De Morgan

Now the rule of science in this case dictates that if you cannot scien-

tifically explain supernatural events, you cannot declare them to be real.

No problem there. However, that is only half of the rule! It is the other

half that scientists have chosen to ignore. That part says that you cannot

dismiss any observed phenomenon until you prove that it does not exist.

In the same manner then, there is no scientific proof that supernatural

events do not occur. Consequently, without scientific proof either way,

one can only make assumptions. You can either assume supernaturalism

is not real or you can assume that it is. In either case, your belief is

based on faith, not fact. In both cases you only have a working hypoth-

esis. Most scientists have taken the assumption that supernaturalism is

not real for nearly two centuries. After such a long period of time this view

has become so entrenched, they now take their assumption as fact. For

example, I have never read of an anthropologist declaring that spirits and

their powers are real because science cannot prove their non-existence.

That sounds absurd. Equally absurd is the notion that spirits do not exist

because science cannot prove they do.2

There is a certain irony in all of this. If you trace the history of science

back to its very beginning, you’ll discover that shamans, the masters of

the supernatural, were really the first scientists. This is evidenced by

the fact that there is a core set of procedures to shamanism that crosses

all cultures throughout time (discussed below). This means the practice

of shamanism is an art instead of merely random acts of superstition.

Furthermore this art has been successful for at least 20,000 years. From

shamanism we first reached out to the stars, which gave rise to astronomy

and astrology; then came mathematics, alchemy, chemistry, physics, and

the many other new and specialized ways of viewing nature at all her

various levels of operation. Over the course of the last 3000 years, begin-

ning mainly with the Greeks, science became ever more concerned with

controlling the material world around us rather than tapping into the

powers of the shamanic realm that lie within the human body — a looking

ever more outward over time rather than a looking inward to control the

world. Socrates’ repeated Greek admonition to look within (“Know thyself.”)

grew ever more faint on our ears and the rites of renewal at Delphi that

connected initiates to the other world eventually disappeared forever. As

we left the shamanic world behind, our disdain for supernaturalism grew.


the British Society for Psychical Research was formed, and Mark Twain

(Samuel Clemens) was among its members.10

The scientists demanded scientific proof for the existence of spirits, but

over many years of investigation they continually failed in this regard. As

for Indian medicine powers, there were plenty of spirit accounts on record,

but no explanation for them. With no scientific proof forthcoming, most

scientists turned to ridicule to silence the spiritualists. Any scientist who

believed in the reality of spirits was automatically tagged as delusional

and his research discredited. Once this attack began, it did not let up. By

the end of the 19th century this ridicule served to create an atmosphere

of fear among scholars. No longer would a professor be free to express any

belief in the supernatural without having his career destroyed. What had

begun as a point of view, an assumption, had now turned into an abusive

superstition that served to suppress academic freedom.

During the 20th century, this form of suppression became ingrained

into American universities, where it remains to this day. Professors are

not allowed to express a belief in supernaturalism—an assumption which

has become taboo. You cannot request a grant to study the efficacy of

an Indian healer, because no granting authority will allow funds to be

used for something that is seen as merely superstition in the first place

(discussed below). Moreover, university professors are not allowed to

publish books that express a belief in the supernatural. They may write

about the supernatural belief of others, but cannot express such a belief

themselves.

In 1995 one such case received national attention when a Harvard

professor’s book, published by a private press, caused him to come under

investigation by a Harvard faculty committee. John Mack, a tenured

professor, was a psychiatrist at the Harvard Medical School, where he

was treating patients who had been abducted by aliens. In his 1994

Abductions: Human Encounters with Aliens he expressed the opinion that

some of his patient’s experiences were real. Even though his opinion was

published in a private press, Harvard responded by launching an inves-

tigation into possible “misconduct” on his part. In the September 1, 1995

issue of the Skeptical Inquirer, the headline read: “Harvard launches John

Mack attack: abduction psychiatrist’s scholarship questioned.” The inves-

tigation dragged on for one year. In the end Prof. Mack was not fired, “but

was given an unusual public warning by medical school Dean Daniel

Tosteson not to let his enthusiasm for UFO research get in the way of

who became Dean of University College in London; Robert Hare, M.D., who

was a Professor of Chemistry at the University of Pennsylvania; Nassau

William Senior, Professor of Political Economy at Oxford; Lord Chancellor

Lyndhurst; New York State Supreme Court Justice J. W. Edmonds; Oliver

J. Lodge, Professor of Physics at Liverpool University College; Johann C.

F. Zöllner, Professor of Physical Astronomy at University of Leipzig; and

Professor Challis, the Plumierian Professor of Astronomy at Cambridge,

to name but a few.6

It was a strange state of affairs. In the one camp were the spiritualists.

They had conducted many investigations and had become convinced of

the ability of mediums. In the other camp stood those who had never both-

ered investigating the matter and those who had studied fake mediums.

Alfred Russell Wallace, co-discover with Charles Darwin of natural selec-

tion, authored the above list of spiritualists. Perhaps the most famous

scientist among the spiritualists, he had conducted his own experiments,

much to the embarrassment of his colleagues. In 1874, he wrote:

I am well aware that my scientific friends are somewhat

puzzled to account for what they consider to be my delusion, and

believe that it has injuriously affected whatever power I may have

once possessed of dealing with the philosophy of Natural History…

Up to the time when I first became acquainted with the facts of

Spiritualism, I was a confirmed philosophical skeptic…I was so

thorough and confirmed a materialist that I could not at that time

find a place in my mind for the concept of spiritual existence, or

for any other agencies in the universe other than matter and force.

Facts, however, are stubborn things…The facts became more and

more assured, more and more varied, more and more removed from

anything modern science taught or modern philosophy speculated

on. The facts beat me. They compelled me to accept them, as facts,

long before I could accept the spiritual explanation for them.7

Wallace was keenly aware that the scientists who were most quick to

denounce spiritualism were also the very ones who had never bothered

to investigate the matter.8 In addition, one can conjecture that Wallace’s

interest in spirits derives from the four years (1848-1852) he spent

among Amazonian Indians, participating in their ceremonies.9 By 1882


a clear indicator the writer does not hold such a belief. Nevertheless, a few

did not remain silent.

Perhaps the most famous anthropologist of the last century to struggle

under this academic taboo was John Reed Swanton, who was very famous

in his time. Swanton joined the Smithsonian’s Bureau of American

Ethnology in 1900 and remained there for forty-four years.16 At that time,

an appointment to the Bureau was considered the most prestigious career

position for any anthropologist in the U.S., outranking professorships at

the best universities. This is because the Bureau anthropologists were

full-time researchers who never had to teach classes. Swanton grew up

attending the New Church, which followed the writings of Emmanuel

Swedenborg, who was a spiritualist. For this reason he retained a life-long

interest in Swedenborg’s theosophical works. As a Harvard undergraduate

student he had also taken classes from William James, who shattered the

basis of mechanistic materialism for Swanton. James had served as the

President of the British Society for Psychical Research from 1893 to 1895,

and was routinely insulted by his colleagues for his belief in spirits.17

Swanton continued to pursue privately his interest in “spiritualism”

throughout his life, publishing a book of Swedenborg’s views on evolution

in 1928. However, to avoid the antagonism of his colleagues, “Swanton

thought it appropriate to sever his connections with the more austere

scientific bodies to pursue this inquiry.”18 That is, he kept silent about his

belief in spirits around other anthropologists, lest they try to damage his

reputation and end his professional work. Swanton’s long career brought

him into contact with many Indian shamans of the Southeast area, where

his belief in spirits was undoubtedly reaffirmed.

During the 1940’s Swanton followed J. B. Rhine’s classic work on

“extra-sensory perception.” Rhine’s research was based on mathematical

probability, and it served as the foundation for the contemporary field

of parapsychology. Finally, after retiring from a brilliant career at the

Smithsonian, Swanton, at the age of seventy-seven, and much to the

surprise of his colleagues, finally decided to speak out concerning his

beliefs in the supernatural. In 1950 he privately published and distributed

a 96-page booklet entitled, SUPERSTITION—BUT WHOSE? In Swanton’s

own words it was his “reply to those individuals who, though they some-

times believe fervently in the reality of supernatural events which took

place two thousand years ago, cannot conceive that anything of the kind

could have occurred in modern times. The evidence is, in fact, abundant.

standards expected of the faculty.”11 Again, these “standards” of behavior

dictate that a professor cannot express a belief in supernaturalism in any

form. John Mack violated the spiritualist taboo, and that was the primary

reason he came under fire.12 I suspect Mack was eventually not fired due

mainly to the intense media coverage of his case and the fact that he was

already a Pulitzer Prize-winning author.

Harvard’s warning did not prevent Mack from publishing a second book

in 1999 on the same subject (Passport to the Cosmos: Human Encounters

with Aliens). By then he had analyzed enough cases to establish the

core features of alien encounters. He also interviewed Indian shamans,

including Lakota shaman Wallace Black Elk, whose UFO experiences

I had published.13 In the end Mack concluded that an alien abduction

experience was similar to those of shamans experiencing the spirit world.

That is, it was a contact with the “unseen world.” “Like shamans…they

are brought by the experiences into non-ordinary states of conscious-

ness in which space and time lose their defining power and a world or

worlds of nonhuman spirit beings become manifest…Further, the altered

consciousness and traumatic ordeals that experiencers undergo seem in

some ways like the harsh and ecstatic elements of the shamanic journey

and its encounters with animal spirits and other levels of reality.”14 “Aliens”

were simply one of endless forms taken by spirits.

Alfred Russell Wallace was correct in that scientists who scoff loudest

at supernatural abilities are also the very ones who have never investigated

them. Perhaps the best example from that early period was Sir William

Crookes’ setting out to debunk the best-known 19th century study-subject,

D. D. Home, well-known for his supernatural abilities. Instead, Crookes

reported back that Home was authentic, and his outraged colleagues

insisted that Home was doing the impossible. Crookes merely replied, “I

never said it was possible. I said it was true.”15 Anthropologists who study

Indian cultures face the same situation. Any non-believing anthropolo-

gist, who manages to attend a series of Lakota yuwipi healing ceremonies,

will end up becoming a firm believer in the supernatural. This is bound

to happen to anyone who spends time around an authentic shaman.

Nevertheless, anthropologists have been subjected to this taboo of silence

as well. The way they have dealt with it is to preface any ethnographic

account of the supernatural with phrases like “he believed that...,” “suppos-

edly the…”, “the informant stated…” and other such phrases that serve as


Does God Play Dice With the Universe?

One of the great ironies of 20th century physics was that “the very

man who from 1928 onward was to say so many times, ‘God does not play

dice,’ was the first to show that ‘God does play dice.’”22 What most people

probably don’t know is why Einstein made this claim in the first place. It

was not a scientific fact, but rather his end of a philosophical debate with

physicist Niels Bohr, and other physicists, about the nature of the universe

based on the data coming from quantum mechanics research. This debate

began in the late 1920’s. By then Einstein had proved that time and space

were interrelated such that absolute time did not exist, and in so doing he

had opened up a vast, uncharted territory in physics that had given rise

to quantum mechanics and the theory of relativity.

Einstein’s theories also proved that Newton’s laws of motion were appli-

cable only for small velocities, and he came up with a new law of motion.

However, in so doing, Einstein arbitrarily chose to set the limit of speed in

the universe at the speed of light in a vacuum. He made this assumption

in order that Maxwell’s electromagnetic equations would not be violated.

Both Maxwell and Einstein favored a mechanical view of the universe.

Therefore, Einstein’s declaration was based mainly on his desire not to

abandon a materialist view of the universe, which was the core issue of the

Einstien-Bohr debate. This assumption was later proved erroneous with

the propagation of superluminal light.23

It was in the fall of 1927, at the 5th Solvay Congress for physics in

Copenhagen, that Niels Bohr, Erwin Schrödinger, and other colleagues set

forth what became known as the “Copenhagen interpretation” of quantum

mechanics. Based on their findings, it was their belief that there is an

interplay occurring between an event that manifests into reality and any

observations being made on that event. This interplay became known as

the “observer effect,” the impact of observing a process while it is running.

In other words, quantum level events do not occur without an observation

being made on them in the first place, and, more importantly, that there

is a direct connection between an observer and what is being observed.

This view postulates that one’s observations on reality can play a role in

bringing events into being. Immediately, a red flag went up. Proposing a

connection between matter and consciousness would entail the largest

change ever to occur in the history of science in how we view reality.

If matter and consciousness are somehow interrelated, it would put an

It is merely being smothered by a widely spread will to disbelieve.” Needless

to say, Swanton realized that a disbelief in the supernatural had become a

superstition among scientists.

Another notable scientist who came to believe in the supernatural was

John Neihardt, whose Black Elk Speaks became the most popular book

ever written on an American Indian. First published in 1932, the book

flopped, and Neihardt had to return some of his advance to the publisher.

The University of Nebraska Press published a paperback edition in 1961,

and it became an instant success in 1971 after Neihardt’s appearance

on Dick Cavett’s television series.19 Today it has been translated into

many different languages and still remains in print after half a century.

However, most people do not know that Neihardt began his career as a

scientist, graduating from Nebraska Normal College in 1896 with a degree

in physics. Early on in life “he invented clever devices, such as a cut-off

switch for the streetcar power cable release, and a new type of turbine

engine, before he turned to the writing of poetry.”20

So what happened when this physicist-turned-poet encountered the

likes of Lakota medicine man Nick Black Elk in 1931? Medicine powers

peaked his curiosity. Neihardt became very interested in mind-over-

matter phenomena, but initially kept silent. Later on, like Swanton,

Neihardt followed Rhine’s research. Finally by September of 1961

Neihardt went public with his belief in the paranormal. Then a professor

at the University of Missouri in Columbia, he gathered together at his

home, Skyrim Farm, a small group of amateur researchers interested in

conducting parapsychological experiments. In particular, the focus was

on telekinesis, sometimes called “macro-PK” (macro-psychokinesis), the

ability to move objects with one’s mind. They adopted the name SORRAT

(Society for Research on Rapport and Telekinesis). There, over the next

twenty years, they conducted their experiments. They observed, as well

as photographed, many instances of objects moving around the room via

telekinesis. Consequently, Neihardt not only believed in medicine powers,

he researched them as well.21

Why is it that so many scientists vehemently hold to the assumption

that the supernatural is not real? The answer is simple. They do not want

to give up their view of materialism, a mechanical reality in which the

universe is governed by a set of ordered laws. However, the truth of the

matter is that from the cornerstone of all sciences, physics, a proof has

recently emerged that this is not the case.


This is known as the collapse of the wave function because the

hump in the wave function representing the possibility that did not

occur, collapses. It is necessary to look into the box [the “observer

effect”] before either possibility can occur. Until then, there is only

a wave function.26

If the Copenhagen interpretation was right, it ended the notion of a

mechanical universe. Einstein certainly disliked a view of reality that

involved “spooky actions at a distance,” as he dubbed it.27 To him, and to

most physicists, it sounded absurd. Einstein’s opposition was expressed

the following year, 1928, when he wrote: “Who would be so venturesome

as to decide today the question whether causal law and differential law,

these ultimate premises of Newton’s treatment of nature, must definitely

be abandoned?”

Thus began a long-standing, philosophical debate among physicists,

with most of them siding with Einstein, given the fact that the Copenhagen

interpretation conjured up a universe too difficult for a rational mind to

grasp. Those siding with Einstein set out to find the “missing variable” in

quantum theory that would let them do away with the Copenhagen inter-

pretation. Einstein never relented. On September 4, 1944 he sent a letter

to his friend, physicist Max Born, in which he wrote:

You believe in the God who plays dice, and I in complete law

and order in a world which objectively exists, and which I, in a

wildly speculative way, am trying to capture. I firmly believe, but

I hope that someone will discover a more realistic way, or rather a

more tangible basis than it has been my lot to find.

Even the great initial success of the quantum theory does not

make me believe in the fundamental dice-game, although I am

well aware that our younger colleagues interpret this as a conse-

quence of senility. No doubt the day will come when we will see

whose instinctive attitude was the correct one.28

Neither Einstein nor Bohr lived to see this debate settled, and for many

years most physicists believed it impossible to devise an experiment in

which the oddities of quantum mechanics could be tested. It was not until

1964, 36 years after the debate began, when Irish mathematician John

end to the cherished mechanical view of the universe. No wonder Bohr

perturbed Einstein—and other physicists as well.

Let’s also not forgot what happened the last time science demanded

such a radical change in our view of reality. History makes it very clear

that we had an extremely difficult time adjusting to the notion that the

sun, planets, and stars did not rotate around the earth. When Giordano

Bruno put forth Copernicus’ notion that we were not in the center of the

universe, he was put to death for it, and Galileo was threatened with death

as well.24 The change was so radical that it took the general public over

a century before the belief that the sun rotates around the earth disap-

peared. Now, once again, the Copenhagen interpretation demanded an

even greater change in our view of how reality operates, a view that is

definitely much more difficult to visualize. It was already hard enough

trying to grasp how it is that clocks run slower the faster one travels. As

one physicist later put it, “the whole cloth of the materialistic picture of

reality must now be rejected.”25

Schrödinger, who postulated the observer effect (along with De Broglie),

came up with his famous Cat-in-the-Box “thought experiment” to explain

how it operates. Physicist Gary Zukav restated it as follows:

A cat is placed inside a box. Inside the box is a device, which

can release a gas, instantly killing the cat. A random event (the

radioactive decay of an atom) determines whether the gas is

released or not. There is no way of knowing, outside of looking into

the box, what happens inside. The box is sealed and the experi-

ment is activated. A moment later, the gas either has been released

or has not been released. The question is, without looking, what

has happened inside the box.

According to classical Newtonian physics, the cat is either dead

or it is not dead. All that we have to do is to open the box and see

which is the case. According the quantum mechanics, the situa-

tion is not so simple.

The Copenhagen interpretation of Quantum Mechanics says

that the cat is in a kind of limbo represented by a wave function

which contains the possibility that the cat is dead and also the

possibility that the cat is alive. When we look in the box, and not

before, one of these possibilities actualizes and the other vanishes.


agreement with the observer effect.31 The future of a materialistic view of

the universe was growing dimmer with each subsequent experiment.

The final nail in the coffin came in a March 1999 article in Nature enti-

tled, “Bell’s Inequality test: more ideal than ever.” In this one and a half

page article, Alain Aspect, from the University of Paris-South in Orsay,

France, announced the conclusions of his team’s experiment, conducted

at Innsbruck, that most closely aligned with the requirements of Bell’s

theorem. Again, the results were in favor of the observer effect. These

findings now tell physicists “that something about the way we had imag-

ined the world to work must be wrong...We must recognize that objective

reality is a flawed concept, that state vector collapse does arise from some

interaction with the observer, and that indeed consciousness is a nego-

tiable instrument of reality. Our entire conception of reality must now be

rethought.”32

A universe that is continuously manifesting from the underlying

quantum level of reality calls for a change in our concept of objects as

solids. Physicist David Bohm had an interesting way of visualizing how

objects manifest from his implicate (quantum level) to the explicate order

(our material reality) of being. Imagine that there is a ball of ink suspended

in glycerin; the ink does not dissolve. Now you slowly begin to stir the

glycerin. You will see the ball of ink slowly disappear as the ink stretches

out in the glycerin into a thin, swirling string. If you stir in the opposite

direction, the string will go back into forming a ball. In the same way,

our reality is merely the stringing and unstringing that is going on at the

quantum level. In turn, our observations on this stringing process can

affect the outcome at the explicate order of things. Here again, in line with

quantum mechanics, Bohm did not see objects as solids.33 I find it inter-

esting that the Hopi language carries this same view of reality. A Hopi will

say “that appears to be a tree” rather than to say, “that is a tree.” They see

objects as fluid events, as processes, and not as solids.

We were taught that objects are composed of molecules, and these in

turn are made up of atoms consisting of “elementary particles.” These early

concepts no longer really suffice. When we “look” at an atom, we see mostly

empty space. If the nucleus at the center is the size of a baseball, then the

orbit of electrons around it is the size of the baseball stadium, with lots of

empty space in between. Atoms are actually 98% emptiness. Their elec-

trons are something in constant motion. They are not tiny objects. When

we look at the “elementary particles” that go to make up the nucleus of an

L. Bell published the first mathematical proof that could put the debate

to experimental tests. It was a tremendous breakthrough in physics, now

considered by many scientists to be the largest in the 20th century. Known

as Bell’s inequality (or Bell’s theorem), it would determine if Einstein and

most physicists had been right. If Einstein were proven correct, the experi-

ment would not reveal the sought after hidden variable, it would only

prove that the Copenhagen interpretation was wrong. Needless to say, Bell

was certain that experimental tests of his proof would vindicate Einstein.

That is, Bell did not believe that consciousness had any role in reality.

Professor Henry Stapp, a particle theorist at UC Berkeley and an

authority on the implications of Bell’s theorem, has called Bell’s work

the most important discovery in the history of science.29 To this state-

ment physicist Even Harris Walker more recently added, “The experiment

that John Bell conceived is now recognized as one of the most important

experiments ever done in the history of mankind.”30 What is implied here

is that all the very strange concepts we have learned to adjust to since

Einstein—a universe in which clocks run slower as one goes faster; the

mass of the sun bends space such that our earth travels in an ellipse

while at the same time actually going in a straight line through space; the

atom bomb transmutes matter into pure energy; quantum tunneling runs

rampart; and other strangeness occurs—are merely the tip of the iceberg.

The pressing question all along has been, “Is the observer effect real?”

Once Bell’s theorem was published, the race was on to solve the debate.

It took only eight years before the first experiment on the theorem was

designed, led, and performed by Professor John Clauser at UC Berkeley.

Clauser had conceived his experiment in 1969 while a graduate student

at Columbia University, and was subsequently brought to Berkeley to

undertake it. This first experiment, using calcium atoms, was completed

in 1972. The results shook the world of physics: reality is based on an

observer effect. This finding sent physicists around the world scurrying

to come up with the opposite result by placing greater controls on the

experimental tests. Holt and Pipkin repeated the experiment in 1973, this

time using mercury atoms, which was repeated by Clauser in 1976—both

showed conclusively that the observer effect is real. In 1975 physicists at

Columbia repeated a 1974 experiment done in Italy, again confirming the

observer effect. In 1976, Lamehi-Rachti and Mittig at the Saclay Nuclear

Research Center in Paris carried out another experiment, which again gave


Parapsychology

Despite the overwhelming evidence for paranormal phenomena, para-

psychological studies initially faced this same denial. As noted earlier,

scientific proof for the “extrasensory” (supernatural) abilities of humans

first began primarily with J. B. Rhine’s work in the 1940’s. Subsequently,

it was mainly Prof. Stanley Krippner’s extensive publications on the

subject that spurred full recognition for this field of study. However, that

did not happen until 2002, when The American Psychological Association

bestowed on Krippner their coveted, annual “Award for Distinguished

Contributions to the International Advancement of Psychology,” which

is usually limited to a single scholar per year. This means it took over

sixty years before this field of inquiry received official recognition by

psychologists.

Dean Radin’s meta-analysis of parapsychology experiments also

contributed to the recognition of parapsychology.35 “Meta-analysis

combines and analyzes many studies simultaneously, and can therefore

discern [detect] trends that individual experiments easily overlook…Meta-

analysis of all (clairvoyance) studies revealed odds against chance of more

than a billion trillion to one. Since experimental odds of one hundred

to one are often considered sufficient to establish a phenomenon, these

results are obviously astronomically high. Analysis of remote viewing has

also been highly positive. In 1995, the CIA commissioned a review of all

remote viewing research that had been sponsored by the United States

government. Even the skeptic on the review team acknowledged that the

results could not be dismissed as mere chance.”36 It is an interesting coin-

cidence in that at the same time Radin’s findings were being published

physicists were putting the final touches on the testing of Bell’s theorem.

Anthropologists meet with the same resistance noted earlier when

they get involved with paranormal studies. Joeseph K. Long was most

influential in bringing parapsychological research under the umbrella of

anthropology during the early 1970’s. His efforts led to the formation on

May 25, 1980, by a small number of anthropologists, of the Association for

Transpersonal Anthropology. The society immediately met with resistance

from the American Anthropological Association, which continually denied

them recognition. It was a ten-year battle that was finally won in 1990,

but only after the society had consented to be renamed the Society for

atom, we end up with different repetitive wave patterns, called “quantum

wave functions”. At the quantum level these waves are essentially “vibra-

tions of probability,” or “state vector potentials.”34 Being “non-material”

these waves also act in bizarre ways. For instance, elementary particles do

not really move from one location to another in space, rather they jump or

translocate. There is a “quantum leap” in their energy states. Given every-

thing we now know, it is more correct to see “mass” as an ongoing event

rather than as a solid object. It was simply the materialistic language of

physics that caused us to “see” the tiniest events of reality in terms of tiny

solids of something, an extension of our mechanical view of the universe.

Ordinary reality is perhaps best seen as a continuous process of events

at the quantum level that are constantly manifesting into space and time.

Reality arises from processes occurring at the quantum level. Objects

are events in progress. When the Hopi says, “that appears to be a tree,”

he is well aligned with quantum mechanics which would hold that tree

is a continuous process of events. If the process is altered, the tree will

change.

The experimental data is in and Einstein was wrong. God does play

dice with the universe. This does not mean that the Creator is uncaring,

but rather that we can have a certain say in how reality comes into being

from moment to moment. That has to do with the intent and intensity of

the observation, to be discussed later. More importantly, for the first time

in history, we also have a new view of reality that has the potential finally

to give us an explanation of how American Indian medicine powers, and

other supernatural events, operate. Can this new view make clearer to us

why shamans do what they do in ceremony? If this is possible, it means

that the actions of shamans are no longer to be seen as mere superstition.

Acceptance of this new view of reality will not come with ease. Despite

the hard evidence from experiments, most physicists are still holding out

on acknowledging the results of these tests on Bell’s theorem in hopes

that some other explanation will be found. For example, John Bell himself

never relinquished his siding with Einstein on this issue despite the

evidence to the contrary. Given the difficulty physicists themselves are

having, you can anticipate the general public will have an even more diffi-

cult time adjusting to this new view of reality. I suspect most people are

not even aware that “the biggest discovery in the history of science” has

just occurred.


the question of where to go with this new discovery. How do you construct a

consciousness meter? How do you enter consciousness into the equations

of quantum mechanics? There is no language in physics for dealing with

such a realm of reality. The traditional concepts of physics, like electron,

prove troublesome. If you ask an electron if it is a wave, it will answer yes.

If you ask it if it is a particle, it will answer yes. Thus concepts like atom,

location, etc. that are useful in Newtonian physics are often not applicable

to the quantum level of reality. So there is a current need for finding new

concepts to bridge the gulf between the world of quantum mechanics

and our own space-time reality. Interestingly enough, there have been a

series of conferences held annually in New Mexico to this end. They are

in the form of an open dialogue between American Indians, knowledge-

able in medicine power practices and physicists. The idea is to explore

Indian views of the “unseen world” in order to come up with new, mean-

ingful concepts about the nature of reality that can be applied to quantum

mechanics. You could call it a physics language-building venture.

Although Time magazine saw fit to select Einstein as the leading scien-

tist of the last century, I suspect that history will show that it was John

Bell who set the stage for the most spectacular discovery of that century.

As mentioned, his scientific revelation is already being hailed by some

physicists as the “greatest discovery in the history of science.” Of course,

the reason this discovery does not make headline news is that it is impos-

sible to explain what it really means at this point in time. We have yet the

ability to place it into a rational framework simple enough to visualize.

Nevertheless, it does give us reason to be open-minded about looking for

possible connections between the observer effect and the supernatural.

That is what good science is all about.

My approach here is limited to the medicine powers of the North

American Indians. Nevertheless, the shamans who wield such powers are

to be found in every culture on the planet, certainly in a historical context

if not at present. Furthermore, it is a known fact that there is a set of core

characteristics common to shamans of all cultures. They include “such

features as possession by denizens of a spirit world, however conceived;

speaking in tongues; the ecstatic [trance-induction] techniques to which

Eliade refers; and not the least, curing.”41 Among the American Indians

“speaking in tongues” manifests either as the spirit’s voice speaking

through the shaman or the shaman’s speaking in a special “doctor’s

the Anthropology of Consciousness. They now publish a journal entitled

Anthropology of Consciousness.

Two major problems arose from anthropologists not being able to

view Indian medicine powers as real. First, it eliminated the possibility of

ever conducting a study on the efficacy of shamanism. As noted earlier,

an applicant would never receive a grant to study something that does

not exist in the first place. David Young ran into this problem when he

conducted a study on the efficacy of a Cree healer in Canada in the

1980’s.37 There was an outcry from Canadian government official that

funds had been given for such a study. Secondly, that caused anthropolo-

gists to focus on descriptions of various Indian rituals and ceremonies in

contrast to focusing on their role as a means of contacting the spirit world.

Consequently, much time has been wasted among anthropologist merely

arguing about classification terminology.

Today, we are faced with the fact that human consciousness is somehow

an integral and participatory aspect of our reality. “Space, time, matter,

and energy—the very stuff of objective reality, as it turns out—depend

on the perceptual participation of the observer” as Walker points out.38

That is to say, “the way things appear to us has become something of the

substance of what they are.”39 Physicist John Wheeler echoed this view as

well: “In some strange sense this is a participatory universe.”40

Despite the overwhelming evidence from parapsychology and physics

that demands a change in how we view reality, the hard-core disbelievers

will not be quick to disappear. Most likely the same tactics will be used:

attempts to trivialize the results of research, finding fault with the design

and running of experiments, declaring their results unreliable, and even

suggesting fraudulent experiments, all in the name of holding tightly to

a materialist view of reality. You can be certain that they have never read

the literature nor conducted any research on supernatural (paranormal)

events. These distracters are best seen as simply being very superstitious.

Physics and Shamanism

Quite frankly, most physicists did not want reality to turn out the

way it has. I see that as the main incentive behind their repeated, ever

improved experiment-based testing of Bell’s inequality. They wanted a

mechanical universe and didn’t find it. Even more problematic has been

Spirit Talkers Chapter 1

or C. Before the measurement it is in all three collectively [as was

Schrödinger’s cat]. Only after a measurement is performed can one

state that the atom was in state A, B, of C. Before the measurement

it is in all three collectively. This view of physical reality is entirely

at odds with our commonsense conception of the physical world,

but this is the correct picture of reality.43

It should be noted here that Walker opts for Heisenberg’s mathe-

matical language when discussing quantum mechanics versus that of

Schrödinger. As he explains it, “Heisenberg’s matrix mechanics predates

the mathematically equivalent wave mechanics of Schrödinger. Although

wave mechanics is mathematically simpler, the Heisenberg formulation is

formally more elegant and more compatible with the present theory of psi

[parapsychology]. The Heisenberg formulation depicts alternate solutions

as states in Hilbert space. Any one state is potentially like our ordinary

physical space, but Hilbert space contains many of these possible states,

many alternate states. Although the Heisenberg picture is difficult to visu-

alize, it is easier to speak of state selection in psi phenomenon than to use

the language of wave mechanics.”44 To this Walker adds, “In the Hilbert

space picture, what exists before observations is a collection—often infi-

nite in number—of the realities-that-can-be. These are potentialities.

They exist, but they are not the same as the physical realities we see on

observation. These potentialities connect one observation state to the next

and observation brings one of these into being…these potentialities all

exist as observable states, and they can interfere with one another.”45

The fundamental point is an observer of a system composed of many

alternative potential states has the possibility of biasing the probabili-

ties of any particular state vector selection. When an alternative obser-

vation is made it interferes with the ongoing state selection. The mani-

festation of any alternative state into our space-time universe is known

as the collapse of the state vector (Schrödinger’s collapse of a “wave

function”). Which component state of the vector becomes the physical

reality on collapse is in some way mediated by observation. This fact is

further substantiated by our knowledge that the human brain operates

on a quantum mechanics basis. The relationship between our brain and

state vector collapse is beyond the scope of this book, and readers are

referred to Walker’s detailed description of it.46 This suggests that reality

language.” Therefore, what applies here to American Indian shamans will

more than likely apply to shamans anywhere in the world.

The first step is to adopt the assumption that their medicine powers

are real—the taboo point of view. From there we look for correlations

between the observer effect and the actions of shamans. That is, can the

observer effect be used to hypothesize why shamans do what they do in

ceremony? Even if it can, this must not be mistaken as a proof for the

existence of medicine powers, but simply a hypothetical means for better

understanding their nature, a way to explain them rather than simply

assuming them to be the result of “magical thinking” as anthropologists

are fond of saying.

I am certainly not the first person to take a look at the possible rela-

tionships between shamanism and quantum mechanics. The origins

of my own inquiry began in the early 1970’s when Evan Harris Walker,

long before it was established through experiments on Bell’s inequality,

began to assert that consciousness plays a viable role in reality.42 Then

in 1973 Joe Long, as mentioned, began to introduce the field of parapsy-

chology into anthropology, due mainly to his own discovery of Walker’s

work. Recall that Long is the father of the contemporary Society for the

Study of Consciousness, now a branch of the American Anthropological

Association. In Long’s 1977 Extrasensory Ecology, Walker outlined the

physical bases for paranormal events:

In classical mechanics the solution to any physical problem

yields one solution, or ‘state,’ if all the boundary conditions are

specified. In quantum mechanics, however, many states are

possible. No physical condition or restraint exists to cause a single

state that the system will be found in when a measurement is

carried out. As a result, until a measurement is carried out, the

system is properly described by a state vector, which is the linear

combination of all possible states of the system. For example, a

radioactive atom can in many cases decay in more than one way.

Starting with atom A, after an interval of time, this atom may have

decayed into an atom of type B or C, or it may not have decayed.

Thus the proper state vector is the sums of the separate state

descriptions for A, B, and C collectively. Only after a measurement

is performed can one state that the atom is now in state A, or B,


The ability of drumming to induce trance states has been scientifi-

cally confirmed. Experiments during the 1960’s revealed that repetitive

sound patterns (sonic driving), such as drumming or rattling, at a certain

frequency can induce altered states of consciousness (i.e., an SSC).53

Rattling alone can contribute to a trance-induction,54 but most often

rattling accompanies drumming.55 Ceremonial assistants must learn a

particular drumming rhythm in order to facilitate a shaman’s trance-

induction. If the assistants “misbeat the drum, the shaman just becomes

normal right away (i.e., comes out of the trance).”56 The simplicity of this

technique is what makes drumming the preferred trance-induction tech-

nique among shamans worldwide. Singing and dancing often accompany

the drumming to facilitate the trance-induction.

The very nature of medicine power ceremonies dictates they include

some form of trance-induction. The shaman in an SSC is to be seen merely

as a conduit through which the spirit can act. The spirits are only able

to enter this realm through the shaman. For this reason it is common for

people to report that the spirits work through the shaman.57 Once this

core trait of shamanism was recognized, our initial studies took the form

of trying to categorize different states of consciousness. That effort has

led to more confusion than understanding of what is going on during a

power ceremony. For example, there is a regular trance and a full trance.

In the regular trance the shaman speaks to his helping spirit, while in

the full trance the shaman’s spirit takes over the shaman’s body and

speaks in an altered voice through the mouth of the shaman. In the full

trance the shaman does not remember what was said. Such categorizing

of different altered states based on physical symptoms tells us nothing of

what is really going on here. Consequently, I prefer to use the concept of

the SSC simply to designate a state of being in which the shaman is able

to communicate with spirits.

Not everyone uses drums. The Takelma and Klamath of southern

Oregon, and the Wishram of southern Washington, had no drums.58

Instead, they rested one end of a notched stick on the ground and rasped

it with another stick. The point here is that we are dealing with sound

rhythms. Even the South America ceremonies that use psychotropic plant

mixtures to induce the SSC are filled with some form of “sonic driving.”

We are dealing with processes that involve rhythms, what physicists call

waves.

is held steadfast due to our shared view of reality, but that observation

can change that flow (discussed below).

What we experience as the flow of time is really the flowing of events.

State vector collapse is a rapidly repeating process at the quantum level

of reality that appears as solids at our space-time level. From this point of

view, an object is not really “solid.” Rather, it comes about via a continu-

ously repeating state vector collapse at the quantum level.

The first serious attempt to look for relationships between shamans,

per se, and quantum mechanics did not come about until 1991. Physicist

Fred Alan Wolf emerged from the jungles of South America with a new view

of shamanism.47 Wolf’s hypothetical views were based on his personal

visionary experiences among South American shamans. He came up with

nine working hypotheses. However, Wolf is a physicist and not an anthro-

pologist, so his hypotheses concern mainly the perception of reality by

shamans while my concern here is to explain how their ritual actions affect

reality. Consequently, Wolfe provides little, if any, useful new information

in regard to explaining why shamans do what they do. Furthermore, his

interactions were with shamans who use psychotropic plants to induce

the necessary trance states that enable a shaman to deal directly with

the quantum level of reality in the first place. This means his data is a

bit skewed, since those in this category represent only about ten percent

of the shamans found worldwide. Most shamans use natural techniques

to induce an altered states of consciousness. Nevertheless, several of his

hypotheses serve as a useful starting point for the approach taken here.

Wolf’s third hypothesis states: Shamans perceive reality in a state of

altered consciousness.48 This hypothesis was well established prior to

Wolfe’s work and is crucial to any understanding of shamanism. Mircea

Eliade’s classic cross-cultural work on shamanism first established the

fact that all shamans utilize an altered state of consciousness.49 Eliade

defined shamanism as “techniques of ecstasy,” where “techniques” refers

to different forms of trance-induction, and “trance” does not mean being

unconscious. In an ecstatic trance he feels better than he has ever felt in his

normal waking state.50 Subsequently, Michael Harner coined the phrase

Shamanic State of Consciousness (SSC) to refer to the shaman’s trance-

like state-of-being during ritual.51 The most common form of inducing the

SSC is through drumming, a form of “sonic driving.” Consequently it is

not accidental that the singular, most important ceremonial instrument

among the North American Indians is the drum.52


as the implicate order [of reality]. This order is normally invisible but yet

contains all the possible phenomena that can be experienced. When an

experience occurs, the order is changed. The new order he calls the expli-

cate order. Thus what is explicate is what is observed.”65 Wolf sees the

explicate order (our space-time reality) as controllable (to some extent) by

the shaman’s choices (the observer effect), which Bohm never did. Another

way to say this is that shamans are capable of generating a specific obser-

vation that directly affects the manifestation of the explicate order of

reality—an observation that selects for a specific state vector collapse, to

use our terminology. That is, the SSC gives them access to the implicate

order of reality, and thus power over the explicate order. Then by changing

their view (Wolf’s “choose what is physically meaningful”) of a holographic

universe, they in turn change the universe. However, it should be pointed

out that once Bohm was proven wrong via the tests on Bell’s theorem he,

like Bell, never did accept the view that consciousness was interrelated to

reality, although he even made a study of psychic Uri Geller, and found

that he was capable of producing PK (psychokinesis)—the movement of

objects via the mind.66

Nevertheless, it is the “universally connected” aspect of Wolf’s hypoth-

esis that is more important to us. Tests on Bell’s theorem indicated that

the underlying level of reality is completely interconnected. Specifically it

revealed that when two particles of matter interact (or come into contact)

their potential state vectors become entangled such that, after separating,

any effect on one particle instantly produces a simultaneous effect on the

other particle, regardless of their distance apart from each other. (This

finding also violates Einstein’s notion that nothing travels faster than the

speed of light.) This “invisible” connection throughout the quantum level

is referred to as “non-locality.” The way it is spoken of is that when two

particles interact they become entangled such that their entanglement

remains forever regardless of their subsequent separation in space. In that

sense, one of our space-time illusions is the separateness of objects. At the

level from which they manifest, everything is interconnected. However, at

this level, once two objects come into contact that contact also somehow

remains intact. For example, it is for this reason that psychics will often

want to hold an object you wear in order to “tune in” to you, a practice

known as “psychometry” in the field of parapsychology.

I want to make it very clear at the onset that using plants to induce

trance states does not result in random hallucinations, especially in a

controlled ceremonial environment. Tobacco is the most widely used plant

in North America associated with trance-induction (covered in Chapter 3).

The Indian variety of tobacco, Nicotiana rustica, is capable of rendering

one unconscious. It is not the same variety that is used in cigarettes today.

For example, “in late January 1843 Jason Lee observed Cascade natives

swallowing tobacco smoke, which intoxicated them: ‘smoking themselves

dead’…(as the Indians expressed it),’” where “various forms of altered

states of consciousness are described by native observers as varieties of

‘death.’”59 However, other plants were used as well, albeit not often. The

use of the Sacred Thornapple (Datura wrighti), often called Jimson weed

(Datura stramonium) by mistake, is found among the nations of southern

California, Arizona, and New Mexico such as the Chumash, Cahuilla,

Gabrielino, White Mountain Apache, Hopi, and Western Keres.60 Among

the Mountain Cahuilla it is known as manet, “grass that could talk.”61 It

is also found among the Southern Paiutes.62 However, for the most part,

North American shamans did not use psychotropic plants. The use of

peyote is a recent introduction into North America (covered in Chapter 3).

More fundamental to our understanding here is that there are two

very different realms of reality to be dealt with, each having its own rules

of engagement: our ordinary reality and the “unseen world” of spirits.

In order to interact with the supernatural level of reality, humans must

access a trance state. For example, when a spirit being comes into an

Indian ceremony some people can see it and others cannot. This differ-

ence is due to their different states of consciousness. Those in the SSC

are the very ones who all see the same spirit. There are numerous reports

confirming that shamans in ceremony all hear the same thing from the

same spirit. For example, from the early 1600’s there is a report of twelve

Powhatan shamans all holding a discourse with the same spirit.63

Wolf’s fifth hypothesis is also useful. It states: Shamans choose what is

physically meaningful and see all events as universally connected. Wolfe

contends that shamans view reality in terms of “a gigantic hologram.”64

I suspect this view is more of an extrapolation of physicist David Bohm’s

view of reality, postulated in the 1960’s, than something that is espoused

by an Indian shaman. However, Bohm was very much in Einstein’s camp,

and his theory was fundamentally a philosophical attempt to get around

the Copenhagen interpretation. In Bohm’s view this “hologram is known


in order to understand just what capabilities the will possesses.

The will is indeed a part of our mind, but it has other aspects as

well…[will] is caught up as part of our brain’s function and is also

tied to exactly the central point tested by Bell’s theorem. Nothing

we have done, nothing physics has proved, takes the events of the

physical world out of the domain of quantum mechanics and puts

them into the realm of that billiard ball physics of the classical or

objectivistic conceptions of reality. It is by means of the quantity W

[Will stream] that we as observers determine state vector collapse

in the things we observe, and conversely, those external events are

tied to the states our brain becomes.70

Shamanism is a complex process whereby a human being (or one’s

helping spirits) generates an observation at the quantum level, such that

the ritual being performed will alter the course of ordinary reality by

causing a specific state vector collapse. What shamans must do during

ceremony is follow the “spirit rules.” To deviate in any manner from the

given rules always results in failure of the ceremony. The question here

is to what extent are these rules based on quantum mechanics? In the

quote at the beginning, White Wolf declares that these laws do not change.

With this in mind we need to take a particularly close look at what Indian

shamans do across the board during ceremony, regardless of what culture

they are from. Once we have a clear notion of what those actions are, we

need to see if they follow the rules of quantum mechanics that serve to

activate the observer effect.

Scientific Inquiry

Historically, quantum mechanics is still quite new, and this recently

confirmed interplay between matter and consciousness will form the

direction of future inquiry. At this early point the best I can hope to do is

to provide a view of shamanism that fits with the known facts of quantum

mechanics, given the limited language of physics in this regard. Even the

use of concepts like “state vector collapse” gives us a skewed notion of

what is transpiring. As we have seen, it is impossible to describe fully the

quantum level of reality using concepts developed for Newtonian physics.

Nevertheless, that need not keep us from trying to come up with a better

My sense is that the SSC allows a shaman to access many different

levels of reality. Shamans certainly access a level of reality that allows

them discourse with spirit beings or spirit helpers, as they are termed.

These often appear in dreams or visions in the form of an animal that

changes into human form.67 For example, among the Penobscot such

animal forms are called baohi’gan, “means by which magic is performed.”68

Between our world and the world of spirits there are many different levels

of organization in nature, and it is quite probable that shamans can

access any of these levels of reality as well. For example, Swiss anthro-

pologist Jeremy Narby published a very convincing account of how South

American Indian shamans acquire a molecular view of reality through

their use of ayahuasca, a psychotropic plant mixture used to induce the

SSC. He concluded that “what scientists call DNA corresponds to the

animate essences that shamans say communicate with them and animate

all forms of life” and “that a human mind can communicate in defocal-

ized consciousness [the SSC] with the global network of DNA life.”69 To

prove his contention he showed how some of the drawings by shamans on

ayahuasca accurately depict molecular and DNA activity.

Wolf’s work does demonstrate how contemporary quantum mechanics

can begin to provide a working understanding of how shamanism oper-

ates, although he provides little insight into the actions of shamans given

his focus is on how shamans view reality. I doubt Newtonian physics

applies to shamanism. It is the quantum level of reality that shamans

tap into with their consciousness via trance-induction techniques. This is

quite consistent with Indian views of reality where there is a spirit-world

(non-ordinary reality) and there is this world (ordinary reality). To put it

another way, shamans have mastered the art of altering their conscious-

ness to attain an SSC within which they are able to “view” and operate

within this underlying level of reality. In so doing, the content of their

“view” and the intent put to it (the will of the shaman) are what serve to

select quantum level probabilities.

It is important to point out that “will” is not being seen here as a philo-

sophical concept, rather it is a quantifiable aspect of quantum mechanics.

[Will] is something that has been thrust upon us as a result of

our efforts to understand consciousness. This means that we have

to look at how this aspect of the mind ties in with physical processes


continue to review them on a regular basis. However, in shamanism this

same process is compacted into a singular point in time that manifests

as a sacred power ceremony. For example, one observer of Navajo peyote

ceremonies reported that the practitioners “create an image of what they

wish to accomplish weeks beforehand. They think about this accomplish-

ment to the exclusion of all other thoughts.”72 From the Navajo perspective

“thought is the power source of all creation, transformation, and regenera-

tion.”73 This begets among the Navajo a quantum view of reality whereby

“language is not a mirror of reality; reality is a mirror of language.”74

Medicine power ceremonies also require an intense amount of very

focused, concentrated consciousness. For example, among the Fort Nelson

Slave, a medicine man’s power is known as inkonze, which one informant

translates as “will power.”75 Inkonze requires a greater input of human

consciousness than normally attained. Alice Fletcher noted the same for

the Omaha, where the dominating force in life

was conceived to be that which man recognized within himself as

will power…We trace the Omaha’s estimate of his own will power

in the act called Wazhindhedhe (wazhin, directive energy; dhedhe,

to send), in which, through the singing of certain songs, strength

could be sent to the absent warrior in the stress of battle, or

thought and will be projected to help a friend win a game or a race,

or even so to influence the mind of a man as to affect its receptivity

of the supernatural.76

Here human will power is seen as an actual force that can empower

any observation being made. The amount of personal will differs with

the wish (observation) desired. In wishes that merely involve, say, the

shaman’s finding the location of a lost object, such as a horse, relatively

little input of focused consciousness may be required. This is a spatial

location problem that can be easily solved when the shaman goes into the

SSC and travels about to find the lost horse (which will be covered in more

detail in Chapter 5). Parapsychologists call this act “non-local viewing.”

However, if the wish includes physically bringing the object back to its

owner, then one would expect more consciousness to be required as the

shaman is now moving mass as well. That is, the more any wish entails

changing ordinary reality, the more consciousness the wish-fulfiller needs

understanding of exactly why shamans do what they do in ceremony. I

believe we can make sense of the shaman’s actions in terms of the observer

effect. For example, when making a journey to non-ordinary reality via the

trance state, time itself becomes elastic. When visiting the spirit world

time often seems to pass more quickly than here, but the reverse can also

be true. That is why medicine people are often called upon to “see into the

future,” a process known as divination. They simply take a plunge within

themselves to where time doesn’t exist in the usual sense, and then report

back on what they “saw” there. What they “see” is a probability of what

is to come. In quantum terms, they report back on the most likely prob-

ability of what is to come. For example, among the Kootenai “if a shaman

gains information from the spirits, this information applies to the future

of the material phase of the world and allows the Kootenai certain advan-

tages: bad outcomes can be avoided and good ones seized.”71 Divination

has many other uses, as we will see.

Every shamanic ceremony is in essence a scientific experiment, crude

as it may appear to our eyes. At the onset no one knows whether the cere-

mony will be successful or not. However, my sense is that their ceremonies

rarely fail, and it is the efficacy of their art that has caused it to stand the

test of time. American Indians have always been too pragmatic to waste

their time on difficult undertakings that failed. The primary piece of labo-

ratory equipment is human consciousness, and it has to be used with

great precision. A sustained personal will (observation) is what forms this

precision. Hence the route of scientific enquiry in this connection went in

a great circle. It began with shamans utilizing their consciousness and

eventually came back around to our discovering that consciousness and

matter are intertwined.

So how does the conscious will of a shaman work on reality? A simple

way to understand this is to see a medicine power ceremony as a wish-

fulfillment process. We are already somewhat familiar with this tech-

nique. It appears in a milder form via “daily affirmations”: that is, the

writing of a particular wish on a piece of paper every day until it is real-

ized. Or you may have a special time each day you set aside to say your

wish out loud. It may take years to achieve, but you simply persevere. This

is a somewhat diluted version of wish fulfillment that many people in our

culture swear by. Focusing on attaining specific future goals by writing

them down is another form it takes. For example, business courses will

often teach students first to put their business goals in writing, and then


On the other hand, shamans and their helping spirits are not limited

when it comes to giving out information—knowing what is going on

anywhere in the realm of space and time. Again, the reason for this is that

a mere revealing of information does not involve changes in reality. We

have here a viewing process in contrast to a process that involves altering

ordinary reality. The fact that such information is accessible stems from

the non-local or interconnected nature of non-ordinary reality in the first

place. The shaman is merely tapping into this realm via trance. Such a

process also appears to require less energy; only the induction of the SSC

is necessary and it does not require the use of spirit helpers. With this

in mind, it is not surprising to find that the ethnographic records clearly

indicate that answering questions is the most common activity in any

shamanic practice. That is, shamans get called upon much more often to

discover things and answer questions than they do to change ordinary

reality.

Putting this all together, you can expect to find that shamans and

their helping spirits are all-knowing, but not all-powerful.81 This is indeed

what the ethnographic records reveal. For example, medicine powers

could not stop the advance of civilization upon them, but they could assist

in individual warfare. American Indians seem to have an inherent under-

standing of this limitation to medicine powers, although it is not openly

expressed in such terms. This, in turn, is related to their training of how

to behave during a ceremony. For example, when listening to Indians pray

for help during a ceremony, you most often will hear them asking for small

favors, small wishes, such as help for a sick relative, for someone who

has been jailed, or for someone who has been drinking. On the other

hand, Westerners who come to these same ceremonies don’t have this

understanding or training. Therefore you will hear them pray for things

such as world peace, an end to environmental pollution, and other unob-

tainable goals. From the American Indian’s perspective, such prayers are

wasted effort, if not a little foolish. However, being humble, an Indian won’t

mention this fact.

in order to bring about the desired result. When the amount of conscious-

ness required is more than the capacity of an individual shaman, cere-

monial assistants, other shamans and/or additional spirit helpers are

brought into play to augment the power (conscious will) of the shaman

who is conducting the ceremony.77 In essence, the more prayers being said

for a patient, the more likely a ceremony will succeed. For this reason, it

is common to hear of the shaman’s telling the patient to invite his friends

and relatives to his healing ceremony. However, every spirit helper usually

comes with a singular ability to exercise medicine power. Put into quantum

terms, this would suggest that each spirit is associated with a particular

aspect of the state vector (probability amplitude) collapse. Consequently

one always needs to find the shaman who has the particular power one

needs before he goes into ceremony. Quite often the proper shaman is

sought out through a divination or spirit-calling ceremony.

Shamans will not ordinarily talk about limits to the power of their

spirit helpers. They are much more apt to say their spirit helpers can

do anything. I believe this standard response is more out of respect for

their spirits, not wanting to insult them. Shamans seem to feel it is disre-

spectful to quantify or judge the abilities of their spirits. Such a viewpoint

also keeps the doors open for the possibility of a spirit helper to produce

additional powers. However, there are limitations to medicine powers. One

common limitation arises when a patient has been diagnosed as “too far

gone” to be healed. In addition, healing ceremonies are usually limited to

one patient at a time. For example, there are accounts of Indian shamans

curing cases of smallpox78, but these shamans were unable to save entire

villages. It takes a large amount of consciousness to alter a small amount

of mass. Consequently, you also never read accounts of their moving large

objects. Another limitation is the shaman’s ability to control his spirits.

Generally speaking “a spirit is regularly conceived as an inherently malev-

olent being that is dangerous to people.”79 It is the task of the shaman to

gain control of a spirit in order to make it a helper. When first acquired,

a spirit usually needs to be “tamed.” For example, “If the spirits which he

[the shaman] inherits are weak and few, he need only sing every week or

ten days; if they are powerful and many, he may have to sing almost every

night, for a time at least. Gradually the spirits are tamed, and become

more and more friendly to the man.”80


community who could demonstrate this same feat, once having seen it. So

Layritz decided to test his class. He first showed them a film of Uri Geller

bending a fork. Then he let his students try it. To his surprise, 8% of them

could perform the fork-bending feat.82 So it appears to be a matter of what

observations are being made on the universe at any time in any location.

Consequently, believing that an event can take place appears to be inte-

gral to it taking place.

Again, these types of “paranormal” changes in reality are the result

of observations being made on a continuous stream of events at the

quantum level. Walker’s view of how this happens is as follows: “Objective

reality actually exists as a collection of potentialities [Einstein’s “dice”

possibilities] like pages in a book…these states are selected as whole

pages non locally, irrespective of spatial relationships...this state selec-

tion process (the pages pulled from the book) is caused by observation,

which ultimately means the consciousness of the observer. And we have

seen [via research in neurophysiology] that the [human] consciousness is

a quantum mechanical process that has associated with it a will channel

that connects our consciousness experience to those events in the outside

world to bring about state vector collapse. The will selects the state of the

brain that we consciously experience, and the global nature of quantum

mechanics of necessity links this brain state to the external event that

occurs.”83 Thus, it is the “hidden variables of our consciousness and of our

will that do the state selection—that create the events of the next moment

we see.”84 Shamans are masters at the art of manipulating these hidden

variables, the art of changing local reality. Again, the main tool is human

consciousness. The ceremony through which it is activated is the appa-

ratus used in the experiment. As already pointed out, this apparatus must

be operated according to very strict rules.

Reality coming into being at every instant “is a process in which a

collection of alternative realities is poised on the brink of coming into

being. It is a vision of potentialities cascading from the depths of our

own brain’s quantum machinery or spilling from the turbid sea of atomic

uncertainties suddenly coming into being through the action of observa-

tion, at once individual and universal, unbounded by limits of either space

or time.”85 This “universal” aspect of human observation is based on “the

fact that about 1/10 of 1% of what we are in our mind’s being is shared; it

is identically the same as the mind-being of all others who exist. This is

an incredible realization.”86 It is this “universal” observation that makes

Reality and the Observer Effect

Knowing that the observer effect is real raises the question of how

it operates. What is the interrelationship between what is observed and

how you observe it? What does it have to do with anyone else who is also

making an observation? Let me give one example of how this seems to

work. In 1977 I attended a conference in Tokyo on “psychotronics”, the

international word for parapsychology. One of the invited guests was a

man from the Netherlands who could move objects with his mind, known

as “telekinesis” or “psychokenisis” among parapsychologists. We all gath-

ered in a large room, about a hundred of us, to watch his demonstra-

tion. Also in attendance were numerous TV news crews with cameras.

Russell Targ, an American parapsychologist, stood at his side to insure

no trickery occurred. The demonstrator forewarned us that he would see

the object move before we saw it move. We all began to watch intently

as he attempted to move a small cube of clear Plexiglass (plastic), about

2-inches square, across a sheet of glass. Our eager anticipation went on

for nearly fifteen minutes, with no movement occurring. Nevertheless,

the demonstrator kept a continuous, fixed stare on the block, without

ever looking away, while his hands and arms kept pushing at the block

from a distance. Finally, everyone got a bit bored watching his antics, our

attention waned, and we started talking to each other. The room became

noisier and most of the audience was no longer watching the demonstra-

tion when we suddenly heard him yell out, “There it goes!” We all looked

back, and indeed the small block moved about 10-inches across the glass,

defying the laws of Newton. My point here is that it was our combined

observations that kept the block from moving in the first place. That is,

our doubts concerning his ability to move the block constituted a strong

observation. It was only when our attention was diverted that he was able

to generate a strong enough observation that selected a series of state

vectors capable of moving the block.

At that same conference there was a report from a German school-

teacher, named R. Layritz, who had become interested in Uri Geller’s fork-

bending feats. As you may recall Geller became an international celebrity

known for his ability to hold a fork or spoon in one hand and causing it

to bend using only his mind. That he was able to do so in public indi-

cates a strong will on his part. Layritz noted that after Geller visited a

locality, the local newspapers would often report on other people in the


I began this chapter with Dawkins’ disbelief in the supernatural. The

assumption that the supernatural is nothing more than superstition has

been around for a long time now. It was never a suitable explanation.

It could not account for the cross-cultural core characteristics found in

shamanism. In attempting to explain American Indian medicine powers,

it was also at a loss. Point in case is Charles F. Lummis, who at the turn of

the last century wrote numerous books on the Indians of the Southwest.

In his 1892 Some Strange Corners of our Country he describes some of the

Navajo and Pueblo “magicians.” His assumption that medicine powers

were superstition forced him to view medicine men as performing tricks.

He begins by pointing out that their magicians work under much more

stringent conditions. They are closely watched by observers who have very

keen eyes, and the audience sits right next to the performer. They do

their tricks with sleeveless shirts, on dirt floors, and with no mirrors,

wires, or other contraptions used by American magicians. However, before

proceeding, he is obliged to point out that “superstition is the corner-stone

of all the strange aboriginal religions.” He then goes on to tell of a hot fire

being built on the bare floor upon which their magicians

dance bare-footed and bare-legged in and upon the fire, hold their

naked arms in the flames, and eat living coals with smacking lips

and the utmost seeming gusto. There can be no optical illusion

about this—it is plain as daylight. Of course there must have been

some preparation for the fiery ordeal, but what it is no one knows

save the initiated, and it is certainly made many hours beforehand,

for the performers have been in plain sight for a very long time.88

Lummis also tells of a storm within a ceremonial chamber where

...they hear the low growl of distant thunder, which keeps rolling

nearer and nearer. Suddenly a blinding flash of forked lightning

shoots across the room from side to side, and another and another,

while the room trembles to the roar of the thunder…Outside the

sky may be twinkling with millions of stars, but in that dark room

a fearful storm seems to be raging…How these effects are produced

I am utterly unable to explain, but they are startlingly real.89

objects appear to us as solids. It is what makes them retain their shape

over time. (Newtonian physics contains no laws as to why objects retain

their shapes; there are no boundary laws.)

This grip of the universal observation is broken when a more powerful

observation is made on the cascade of possibilities. Let me give an example

of this in the form of a question. How many medicine men does it take to

bend a tree? David Lewis saw this happen as a child during the last gath-

ering of the most powerful Creek medicine men, circa 1940 in Oklahoma.

They took a break and then they were standing outside on the

porch. One little short man was teasing this tall guy. He pointed

out a bent little tree, a young sapling out there, and he was telling

this tall one, “You’re beginning to look like that tree, you know.

You’re humped over.” He was teasing about the other man getting

old. “You’re beginning to look like that little tree over there.”

So, they teased each other awhile and then some of them

smoked, some of them chewed nearly all day. They came back and

washed their mouths, spit all this out, then they went back into

the house to sit down to do their talk…[Then] they all came outside

and just before they left, another little short one—it wasn’t the

same one that had been teasing before—said, “Let’s go talk to that

tree.” And nothing was said; they all went out to that tree and they

put their hands on that tree.

I was crowding in between legs and getting up in there, too.

Little kids want to do what the older people do. They put their

hands up on that tree. And this little tree was so bent over that one

limb was on the ground. It was just an ugly little tree, sickly little

thing. They put their hand on that tree. All of them were saying the

same thing [my italics]. They were telling that tree to stand tall and

straight. And the little tree and limb popped and cracked upward

as if it was reaching for our Creator. They told the limb to get off

the ground and point toward the Creator. And while they had their

hands on that little tree, you could hear it popping. You could

actually hear it snapping. From being bent over, while they were

still standing there with their hands on it, it slowly stood straight

up. And the limb that was down there on the ground, they were

bracing it up. It came up into a beautiful tree.87


out; and by sunset it is a mature and perfect plant, with its tall

stalk, sedgy leaves, and silk-topped ears of corn! How the trick is

performed I have never been able to form so much as a satisfactory

guess; but done it is, as plainly as eyes ever saw anything done,

and apparently with as little chance for deception.94

To see medicine powers as tricks is merely to sweep them under the

rug, because there is no possible way to explain these tricks. Does it not

seem more feasible, especially in light of a relationship between conscious-

ness and matter, to assume they are real? Only when we do see them as

real, will we begin to look for the cross-cultural actions of medicine people

that serve to produce a strong observer effect. Therein rests our expla-

nations of how these powers come to be activated. Even though it is not

possible to visualize clearly the observer effect, this need not inhibit us

from exploring relationships between this effect and the use of medicine

powers. You don’t need to understand the physics of medicine powers in to

use them. You only need to know the “laws of the Spirit” for dealing with

the unseen world. Consequently, one goal here is simply to present a new

viewpoint that enables us to understand better why medicine people do

what they do.

Then there is the Navajo feat of making a feather stand on end “in a

flaring, pan-shaped basket, and dance with it as a partner. The Indian—

in this case sometimes the dancer is a very young boy—dances in proper

fashion around the basket; and the feather dances too, hopping gently up

and down, and swaying in the direction of its human partner. If he dances

to the north, the feather leans northward; If he moves to the south, the

feather tips southward, and so on, as if the quill were actually reaching

out to him!”90

More difficult to explain is the “seed-giving” trick. Here each medicine

man takes into his hands his sacred “Mother”—a perfect ear of white corn

with white downy plumes bound to the head. “Now, as all in the audience

rise, the chief shaman and his assistants shake their ‘Mothers” above the

heads of the throng in token of blessing; and out pours a perfect shower of

kernels of corn, wheat, and seeds of all kinds, in a vastly greater quantity

than I would undertake to hide in ten times as many of those little tufts

[of down plumes].”91

The most remarkable Pueblo feat is a special ceremony where their

shamans “turn themselves at will into any animal shape; and where a

moment before had stood a painted Indian the audience sees a wolf, or

bear, or dog, or some other brute!”92 An equally remarkable Navajo feat

“takes place in the medicine lodge at night—the time of all official acts of

the medicine-men. At the appointed time a sun rises on the east (inside

the room) and slowly describes an arched course until at last it sets in

the west side of the room, and darkness reigns again. During the whole

performance a scared chant is kept up, and once started dare not be inter-

rupted until the sun has finished its course.”93

However the most remarkable feat is when

[The Navajo] magicians is the growing of the sacred corn. At sunrise

the shaman plants the enchanted kernel before him, in full view of

his audience, and sits solemnly in his place singing a weird song.

Presently the earth cracks, and the tender green shoot pushes

forth. As the magician sings on the young plant grows visibly,

reaching upward several inches an hour, waxing thick and putting

out its drooping blades. If the juggler stops his song the growth

of the corn stops, and is resumed only when he recommences his

chant. By noon the corn is tall and vigorous and already tasseled-


Chapter 2

The Work of the Devil

Here on Medicine Hill Plain

Again we walk together!

San Juan girls and San Juan boys,

Again we walk together

Where lies the Road of Magic!

— Tewa Song (recorded in 1912)1

The Coming of the Dust Eyes

Before we begin to look at the interrelationships between the observer

effect and medicine powers, it is informative to look briefly at what the

historical records have to say about our early contacts with Indian medi-

cine people. It has long been forgotten that when the Spaniards first

arrived on our shores they considered the “savages” of this land to be

“beasts,” like ordinary animals. Animals had no souls, and no doubt the

Spaniards used this view to justify their barbarous treatment of Indians

they encountered. Killing a savage was no different to them from killing

a deer, bear, or any other soul-less beast. However, the final judgment as

to whether these savages were beasts or humans was in the hands of the

Pope, not the King of Spain. When Pope Alexander VI, on May 4, 1493

issued his bull Inter caetera granting Spain the larger part of the New

World, he probably assumed these people would be capable of accepting

the Catholic faith, but made no decision on the matter at that time.2 As

we know, the Church’s interest in them never waned. In the years that

followed there were more than three hundred pontifical decisions issued

regarding the American Indians.

By the early 1500’s several priests who had visited the New World

attempted to persuade the Pope that American Indians did indeed have

souls. Among them were an unnamed Dominican priest as early as 1517,

then Julián Garcés around 1535, and lastly Bernadino de Minaya in

1537.3 Finally, forty-five years after Columbus, Pope Paul III, on June 9,

1537, issued the momentous bull Sublimis Deus. The Pope decreed that,

“We, who, though unworthy, exercise on earth the power of our Lord and

seek with all our might to bring those sheep of His flock who are outside

into the fold committed to our charge, consider, however, that the Indians

are truly men and that they are not only capable of understanding the

Catholic faith, but, according to our information, they desire exceedingly to

receive it.”4 Furthermore, the Pope ordered that the Church should follow

Christ’s admonition to “Go ye and teach all nations,” and that the “Indians

and other peoples should be converted to the faith of Jesus Christ.”5 With

this decree the American Indians first obtained official human status.

Ironically, it was not until 1879 that our judicial system also dealt with

their status as a human being. It was the U. S. District Court in Omaha

that was first to rule: “that an Indian is a ‘person’ within the meaning of

the laws of the United States.”6

Pope Paul III gave the authorization to send missionaries to America,

but not without some human rights concern. In this same bull the Pope

declared that “the said Indians and all other people who may later be

discovered by Christians, are by no means to be deprived of their liberty or

the possession of their property, even though they be outside the faith of

Jesus Christ; and that they may and should freely and legitimately, enjoy

their liberty and the possession of their property...nor should they be in

any way enslaved; should the contrary happen, it shall be null and of no

effect.”7 The royalty of Europe paid no heed to the Pope’s decree. Their lust

for gold, gems, and other New World sources of wealth far outweighed their

fear of excommunication by the Pope. The history of the Americas is filled

with plunder of land and wealth from all Indian cultures by force and ploy.

One interesting example was the 1911 scheme devised by Superintendent

Young, head of the Department of the Interior, to get the Yakimas’ land.

Lucullus McWhorter exposed the scheme in 1913 and the Yakimas were

infuriated. Louis Mann, one of the targeted victims declared, “Let me go

to hell as I am if I ever under any law sign away my little allotment...It is

a shame that this government would try to bribe and blackmail us in this

way. But the white man has no shame. He is blind to all good and like a

wolf is hungry for our little homes.”8

Naturally, one might wonder where the Pope got his notion that the

American Indians were very eager to become Catholics. I suspect that

this “eagerness” was more on the part of the priests who had visited their

newly found “savages.” The priests quickly noted their innocence and

trust. However, what impressed these early priests the most was not only


the amount of praying the American Indians did on a daily basis, but also

the intensity and sincerity with which their prayers were delivered. Such

deep devotion is typical in Indian communities, and one can’t help but

believe that the missionaries anticipated this same deep devotion towards

Catholicism to arise in their converts. Father Pareja wrote in 1614 that his

Timucua converts in St Augustine, Florida, were better Christians than

were the Spaniards.9 Sometimes, however, their devotion got too intense

for the priests. For example, in 1673 Father Allouez, a Jesuit missionary

to the Fox, “had to exert special effort in order to prevent his young male

converts from blackening their faces and fasting in the chapel in order

that God might appear and speak to them in their dreams.”10 I believe it

was the priest’s general recognition of this intense devotion that was one

of the main reasons why the first missionaries were very eager to carry out

missions in North America.

The French Jesuits were the earliest missionaries in North America,

settling mainly among the different nations along the northeastern coast.

They were also the first westerners actually to live among these strange

people. Therefore their writings give us our first insights into not only the

customs and lifestyles of the times, but also details of their religious life

and medicine powers. Most of their missionary records are contained in

the seventy-one volumes of Thwaites’ Jesuit Relations.11 Initially, their

converts were usually written off as “ignorant, foolish savages” with

“untutored minds.” Indian medicine powers were often viewed in a derog-

atory manner and shamans were seen as charlatans. “They feign to be

inspired by the spirits...Cunning, deceit, shrewdness, a little knowledge

and a great deal of juggling trickery, form the foundation of their renown”

wrote missionary Emmanuel Domenech.12

Indian medicine power ceremonies are intensely active, this being the

result of their deep sincerity and devotion. This behavior astonished early

whites, given their more subdued religious actions, and they frequently

described their ceremonies as being hideously bizarre. A 17th century

report speaks to the “great vehemency in the motions of their bodies,

in their dances.”13 There was good reason for this intensity, although it

might seem merely wild to us. It empowered an ongoing observation. The

following description of a Tlingit shaman curing a child in 1886 is typical

with regard to the shocking nature of a ceremony: “His long hair, always left

uncut, was streaming behind him. He was shaking his charms, throwing

his body into contortions, uttering shrill cries, hissing and extending

his arms, groaning, and breathing through his clenched teeth, jerking

himself meantime in convulsive starts in cadence to the music.”14 In addi-

tion, a Tlingit “shaman never cut his fingernails or his hair, and, when he

performed, wore a roughly cut hide apron from which was suspended deer

dew claws and puffin bills, a crown of spikes that aggressively projected

up towards the heavens, and a necklace of carved and uncarved ivory

and bone charms. Sometimes he shook bird-formed rattles, and by doing

so, called the spirits to his side. Sometimes he donned a series of masks,

transforming into an assortment of supernatural beings.”15 All this lavish

costuming, singing, and dancing are now to be seen as the necessary

ingredients for bringing forth a powerful observation, aided here by a

“cadence” in the music designed to induce an SSC.

At this point I need to clarify my use of the term “medicine.” It has

nothing to do with prescription drugs. The original meaning of the word

dates back to the French fur traders of the 18th century. It was the French

who first dubbed Indian healers as hommes médécines (medicine men).

George Catlin explained it in more detail:

The Fur Traders in this country, are nearly all French; and in

their language, a doctor or physician, is called “Medecin.” The

Indian country is full of doctors; and as they are all magicians,

and skilled, or profess to be skilled, in many mysteries, the word

“medicine” has become habitually applied to everything mysterious

or unaccountable; and the English and Americans, who are also

trading and passing through this country, have easily and famil-

iarly adopted the same word, with a slight alteration, conveying the

same meaning; and to be a little more explicit, they have denomi-

nated these personages “medicine–men,” which means something

more than merely a doctor or physician.16

The understanding that the term “medicine” was best translated as

“mystery” became well established in the 19th century.17

Among the American Indians medicine was also associated with “holy,”

“unknowable,” “sacred,” “wonderful,” “mysterious,” etc.18 For example,

“medicine horse” was a phrase used for the early locomotives, “mysterious

iron” for a gun and “medicine water” was often used for whiskey. Each,

in its own way, was mysterious to American Indians—one mysteriously


moved with great speed and power, one killed in unknown ways, and

the other one made you act in mysterious ways. Among the Lakota the

horse was a “mysterious dog.”19 A “medicine power” is a magical ability,

and a “medicine man” is a shaman, at least in the context of this book.

Anthropologists, not believing in medicine powers, have always been in a

quagmire of endless debates about how to differentiate between a medi-

cine man, herbalist, shaman, etc. for the simple reason that they have

always focused on materialistic details of ceremony, costume, etc. to clas-

sify shamans. On the other hand, the American Indian classification is

simpler: anyone can have power; some people have no power; those who

have greater power than normal are medicine people.

Initially the missionaries paid little heed to the claims they heard from

Indians regarding the supernatural powers of their medicine people. Their

focus was on conversion, and to that end their New World Catholicism

included “many changes to adapt them to the intellect and capacity of

the Indians.”20 Their main concern was to determine whether or not these

“savages” were capable of viewing reality as being ruled by a single Creator,

what philosophers call “monotheism.” Of course, monotheism is nothing

more than a form of philosophical speculation where American Indians are

concerned.21 Nevertheless, the priests had to instill this perspective into

their converts. Otherwise, the god of Christianity would be seen merely as

one of many gods (spirit helpers). I would conjecture it became even more

problematic with those Indian cultures that already had a belief in a Chief

Spirit.22

Monotheism was a continuous teaching from the first contacts during

the early 1600’s through the 1800’s as settlers spread westward making

first contacts with other new nations. These “dust eyes,” as the Hopis called

their missionary priests, understood that if you couldn’t get the “savages”

to believe in the Christian god, then you had no chance of converting

them. So there was a definite bias for their great concern in this regard.

The standard solution to overcome this problem was to convince their

converts that there was indeed a ruler of all the different spirits. To this

end they would usually seek out the most powerful local spirit, and dub

that one the “Great Spirit.” However, true to their basic view of reality,

most American Indians still prefer the phrase “Great Mystery” or “Great

Mysterious” to “Great Spirit” for the Creator.

Without a doubt there was heavy competition between the Catholic

and Protestant missionaries for converts.23 This became an additional

difficulty because Indians, when discussing religious differences, never

showed any signs of bigotry or intolerance for other ways.24 There is no

need to argue over something that everyone agrees is a mystery. However,

their greatest difficulty was the “Indian priests,” as the missionaries called

them. The early Jesuit records are particularly condescending toward

medicine people. Understandably, shamans were the greatest adversaries

faced by missionaries.25 The very existence of medicine powers hampered

conversion. A report on the Hopi claimed, “The medicine men caused them

more trouble than everybody else combined.”26 Rev. Whipple declared

them to be “bitter opponents to Christianity. The venerable Medicine-man,

Shadayence, was the most cunning antagonist that I ever had among

the Indians.”27 David Brainerd, a Methodist missionary from 1743 to

1747, recorded such frustrations in his diary. In speaking of a shaman he

wrote, “So that when I instructed them respecting the miracles wrought

by Christ, and mentioned them as evidence of his divine mission, they [the

Indians] have quickly observed the wonders of that kind which this man

[the shaman] had performed by his magic charms; whence they had high

opinion of him, which seemed to be a fatal obstruction to them receiving

the Gospel.”28 Any strong belief in medicine powers became a force that

defied most efforts to convert them. It was their “spirituality, a wellspring

of inner strength not easily affected by superficial change. As long as

independent religious vitality survived, it filled Indians with a sense of

their own identity and cultural importance, with a power that defied alien

control.”29 Here again, it is this intensity of belief that serves to form a

strong observer effect.

As mentioned previously, the earliest missionaries had little interest

in the stories they were being told about marvelous medicine powers.

They usually shrugged them off as folk tales or tricks. Consequently, the

French Jesuits in their written records commonly used the term jongleurs,

as in a circus act, for medicine persons. The English followed suit and

made use of the terms “jugglers” and “conjurers.”

They are those servants of their Gods [spirits], whose duty it

is to announce their wishes, and to be their interpreters to men:

or, in the language of Volney, those “whose trade it is, to expound


dreams, and to negotiate between the Manitto [spirit], and the

votary.” “The Jongleurs of Canada,” says Charlevoix, “boast that

by means of the good spirits whom they consult, they learn what

is passing in the most remote countries, and what is to come to

pass at the most distant period of time; that they discover the

origin and nature of the most secret disorders, and obtain the

hidden method of curing them; that they discern the course to be

pursued in the most intricate affairs; that they learn to explain

the obscurest dreams, to give success to the most difficult negotia-

tions, and to render the Gods propitious to warriors and hunters.”

“I have heard,” he adds, “from persons of the most undoubted judg-

ment and veracity, that when these impostors shut themselves up

in their sweating stoves [sweat lodges], which is one of their most

common preparations for the performance of their sleight of hand,

they differ in no respect from the descriptions given by the poets

of the priestesses of Apollo, when seated on the Delphic Tripod.

They have been seen to fall into convulsions [trances], to assume

tones of voice [spirit possession], and to perform actions, which

were seemingly superior to human strength, and which inspired

with an unconquerable terror, even the most prejudicial spectators

[doubters].” Their predictions were sometimes so surprisingly veri-

fied, that Charlevoix seems firmly to have believed, that they had a

real intercourse with the father of lies [devil].30

Eventually the terms “jongleur/juggler” and “conjuror” passed on to the

European public where these terms served to convince them that American

Indian shamans were charlatans—it was all a form of trickery. On the

other hand Indians adopted the word “doctor” when speaking in English

of their shamans.31 By the early 1630’s several Jesuits missionaries began

to change their views, and started to believe that some of these Indian

priests did indeed have great magical powers.32 Subsequently, several

missionaries became inquisitive enough to attend their ceremonies and

document displays of medicine powers. Their first inclination was to come

up with a rational explanation for such powers. To that end they began to

declare that medicine powers were “the work of the devil” and were to be

avoided. The word for “spirits” was changed to “devils.”33 Shamans worked

by means of “demonical possession.”34 From this perspective, it was an

illegal act.

[They] are partly wizards and witches, holding familiarity with

Satan, the evil one; and partly are physicians, and make use, at

least in show, of herbs and roots, for curing the sick and diseased.

These are sent for by the sick and wounded; and by their diabol-

ical spells, mutterings, exorcisms, they seem to do wonders...

These powwows [shamans] are reputed, and I conceive justly, to

hold familiarity with the dead; and therefore are by the English

laws, prohibited the exercise of their diabolical practices within the

English jurisdiction, under the penalty of five pounds.35

Perhaps the earliest recorded account of a medicine power ceremony

comes from a Father Pijart. In May of 1637, he observed a healing cere-

mony among the Wyandot in which one of their medicine men picked up a

glowing-red-hot rock with his bare hands, from a fire that was “hot enough

to burn the cabin [ceremonial house] down.” Pijart went on to report, “You

will be astonished that a man can have so wide a mouth; the stone is

about the size of a goose egg. Yet I saw a savage put it in his mouth so

that there was more of it inside than out; he carried it some distance and,

after that, it was still so hot, that when he threw it to the ground sparks

of fire issued from it.”36 After the ceremony was over Pijart inspected the

interior of the medicine man’s mouth and found it not burned, more than

likely much to this Wyandot’s amusement. Pijart also retrieved the stone

and inspected it. He couldn’t believe what he saw—the shaman’s teeth

prints were embedded into the stone! Pijart then sent this stone on to his

superior, Father Le June, who in turn sent it to France, where it probably

still rests on some dusty shelf. In this same year Le June as well began

to realize that some of the Indian shamans had real powers. He wrote in

his 1637 report:

If what I am about to tell you is true, there is no doubt that

the Demons sometimes manifest themselves to them; but I have

believed until now that in reality the devil deluded them, filling

their understandings with error and their wills with malice,

though I persuaded myself that he did not reveal himself visible,


and that all the things their Sorcerers did were only Deceptions

they contrived, in order to derive there from [sic] some profit. I am

now beginning to doubt, even to incline to the other side.37

Once medicine people came to be seen as “devil worshippers,” the

missionaries set out to destroy them. For the next 300 years this was the

attitude of most missionaries, albeit a few clung to the view that it was

fakery. Point in case here is a letter from Father Point, missionary to the

Coeur d’Alene from 1842 to 1846, in which he writes:

In fine, from Christmas to Candlemas, the missionary’s fire

was kept up with all that remained of the ancient “medicine.” It

was a beautiful sight to behold the principal supporters of it, with

their own hands destroy the wretched instruments which hell had

employed, to deceive their ignorance, or give credit to their impos-

tures [spirits]. And in the long winter evenings, how many birds’

feathers, wolves’ tails, feet of hinds, hoofs of deers, bits of cloth,

wooden images, and other superstitious objects were sacrificed!38

The pubic burning of medicine objects by missionaries was a common

affair and the devil’s-doing attitude continued well into the last century.39

In 1926 Father Lafortune, a missionary among the Alaskan Inuit, reported

that “during the course of the winter, the medicine men would gather the

crowd and give a few séances of black magic. There is no denying that the

devil had a part in their tricks.”40 However, there were a few exceptions.

For example, Father A. M. Beede, a Jesuit missionary, went to the Dakota

at Standing Rock Reservation in 1887. After three decades among them he

decided that their Medicine Lodge ceremony was “a true Church of God,

and we have no right to stamp it out.” He left the Jesuits, studied law, was

admitted to the North Dakota bar, and became “their permanent official

advocate in all cases involving Indians.”41

By the 1700’s Indian medicine powers had also become well-known

among the general public. Trappers and traders often returned to tell

how they had been healed by an Indian ceremony. However, when it came

to medicine powers in general, the public tended to retain the original

“it’s a trick” point of view. For example, publications continued to use the

term “juggler” for a medicine person, implying trickery. Meanwhile, the

missionaries were living among their converts, and had ample opportu-

nity actually to witness many medicine power displays, while the general

public merely had brief encounters with medicine people. The mission-

aries were seeing these “works of the devil” so much more frequently that

they tended to believe in their medicine powers. The infrequent visitors

simply tried to detect the “deceptions” of the juggler. Of course, they never

could figure them out.

Despite this prevailing attitude of trickery, there were people other

than missionaries who came to believe in medicine powers, especially in

their ability to heal. Since the earliest contact period through the present

there are numerous accounts of Indian medicine people who could not

only heal, but were successful in cases where western physicians had

failed.42 Therefore, it is also common to find accounts of settlers calling on

local medicine men or women for aid when there were no western physi-

cians to be had.43 Also, as whites came into contact with more Indian

nations, it became apparent that all of them had various forms of medicine

powers. Consequently, the existence of medicine powers became widely

known to the general public throughout the course of the 18th century.

For example, near the end of the century, around 1796, the Menomini and

Ojibwa medicine people were involved in a rising movement that involved

the display of fire-handling abilities. They called themselves the Wabeno

(covered in Chapter 8). This movement caught the attention of the public

in such a way that the word wabeno began to replace “juggler” at this time

as a common term for shamans. Thus, by the 1800’s enough westerners

had come into contact with medicine powers that everyone was talking

about them. They were becoming a common topic in local newspapers.

Take for example American statesman Lewis Cass, who had become a

brigadier general in the War of 1812. He had an encounter with medicine

powers. By 1816 President Monroe had appointed him governor of the

Michigan territory, where he became familiar with the Indians of that area.

Henry Schoolcraft, who later published five large volumes on the American

Indians, traveled as a topographical engineer on expeditions with Cass at

this time.44 Then Cass went on to become a senator in Congress, and

was eventually placed in charge of “Indian Affairs” after being appointed

Secretary of War in 1831. He was well aware of the many reports of their

medicine powers, but viewed them as mere quackery. Again, the general

population saw such powers as so much “mystic mummery.”45 In 1826


Cass mocked those whites who had attested to Indian medicine powers

by declaring:

Eyes have not been wanting to see, tongues to relate, nor pens

to record, the [medicine power] incidents which from time to time

have occurred. The eating of fire, the swallowing of daggers, the

escape from swathed buffalo skins, and the juggling incantations

and ceremonies by which the lost is found, the sick healed, and

the living killed [witchcraft], have been witnessed by many, who

believed what they saw, but who were grossly deceived by their own

credulity, or by the skill of the Indian wabeno.46

Many years later, in 1896, anthropologist Walter James Hoffman

reported an incident he had heard of several times, from both the Menomini

and the Ottawa, concerning this same Lewis Cass. It occurred during a

meeting of the Ottawa Grand Medicine Society in Michigan, obviously at

some point in time after the above 1826 speech. Cass had asked that he

be permitted to attend their medicine ceremony and watch it. This he was

allowed to do, and he watched it most of the day with “unflagging interest.”

Hoffman then reports that towards the end of the day

...as Mr. Cass is said to have observed an old Ojibwa medicine

woman, who had come up at each dance to actively participate

in the exercises, he asked someone near by why this old woman

took such an active part, as she appeared rather uninteresting

and had nothing to say, and apparently nothing to do except shake

her snake-skin medicine bag. The woman heard the remark and

became offended, because she was known among her own people

as a very powerful mitäkwe [a class of shamans]. In an instant she

threw the dry snake-skin bag toward the offender, when the skin

became a live serpent which rushed at Mr. Cass and ran him out of

the crowd. The snake then returned to the medicine woman, who

picked it up, when it appeared again as a dry skin bag.47

In fleeing it would appear that Cass completely forgot that he was

merely being deceived by his “own credulity” at that point. As maintained

from the onset, it’s one thing to believe that medicine powers are not real,

and quite another thing to experience them directly.

Nevertheless, the “it’s a trick” point of view remained firmly in the

mind of the general public during the 1800’s. This is somewhat unusual

as it was also the century in which we had the most contact with American

Indian medicine powers. Nevertheless, they remained a source of bewilder-

ment to those who encountered them. For example, fur trader Peter Ogden

had the hazardous job of charting new fur trading territories for the great

Hudson Bay Company. In 1829 he was appointed to explore the area south

of the Columbia River down to California, then Spanish territory. By then

his prior encounters with unknown Indian nations had made him come to

see all of them as treacherous, with such vices as “unprovoked murder,”

“habitual theft,” and “atrocious and unprovoked cruelty.” Consequently,

he viewed all of their actions with great suspicion, and had nothing good

to say about any of them.

By the spring of 1832 he found himself stationed at Fort Simpson,

located near the mouth of the Nass River on the Pacific Northwest

Coast opposite Queen Charlotte Island. This area was occupied by the

Tsimshians (called the “Nass” by Ogden in those days), and in April of

that year about 1500 to 2000 of them gathered in the area of the fort

for the annual spring olachen (fish) run. The local Tsimshians requested

assistance from the fort for supplies in trade to help support all their visi-

tors, and received it. This gathering was to culminate in a grand feast

accompanied by shamanic displays of power, which is the case for nearly

all such gatherings in North America during the early 1800’s. To this

end they constructed a large ceremonial house about a hundred yards

away from the fort. One morning, because of their assistance, those living

at the fort were formally invited to attend the entertainment of the day,

which was to begin around noon that day. After much discussion about

possible treachery it was decided that Ogden and the fort surgeon would

attend as representatives of the fort. To this they added six men to be

their bodyguards. Finally, to make clear they were prepared to revenge

any treachery, they aimed two cannons in the blockhouse at the nearby

ceremonial house.


Full of paranoia they arrived at the ceremonial house to find it packed

to capacity, and six “masters of ceremonies” had to make a clearance

through the crowd for them. They were lead to the front of a large stage

at one end where they were seated in a couple of chairs that had been

reserved for them. Once seated Ogden began to attempt a count of the

number present when he was suddenly stopped

...by the elevation of the curtain [across the stage] which imme-

diately followed a signal proceeding from behind it. On the stage,

boldly erect, stood the lord of the banquet, recognizable by his

lofty stature and the stately proportions which imparted a peculiar

grace and dignity to his bearing. On his face he wore a grotesque

mask of wood. More interesting still, his head was surmounted

by an emblematical [totem] figure, representing the sun, rendered

luminous by some simple contrivance in the interior. As all eyes

were turned upon him, the stage was so arranged that he gradu-

ally disappeared beneath it, bearing with him the source of light

by which our artificial little world was illuminated, and leaving us

in total darkness; a state of affairs which, knowing the savagely

treacherous characters with whom we were associated, was by no

means agreeable to us white men. The matter was so contrived,

however, that daylight presently began to appear again, until, by

slow degree, our Indian Phoebus, bearing the bright orb of day,

whose temporary absence we had deplored, stood erect before us

in all the meridian splendour of his first appearance.

Three times was this alternate setting and rising of the sun

repeated, each repetition eliciting rounds of rapturous applause,

expressed by shouts, screams, howlings, and gesticulations,

most indescribably appalling, and such as might cause a momen-

tary shudder to the stoutest heart. To do our entertainer justice,

his performance, simple as it was, was most creditably carried

through, and spoke much in favour of the native talent of its origi-

nator. The deception by which the gradual appearance and disap-

pearance of the light was imitated, was indeed most complete, and

productive of much satisfaction to us all.48

Without a doubt this was a power performance by a medicine man

(Ogden’s “lord of the banquet”). As for the magic involved, they were not

able to figure out the “deception.” Ogden, like the other whites, found

“much satisfaction” since he could not figure out the source of light. This

curiosity is what kept them coming back.

As hostilities ended and it became safer to be among Indians, more

curiosity seekers came onto the scene. A good example of this was the

annual Arikara Shunáwanùh ceremony on the upper Missouri River,

which became well-known for its public demonstrations of a wide variety

of medicine powers (covered in Chapter 8). Quite possibly these ceremonies

had been seen by trappers and traders during the 1700’s, but the earliest

written account of them appears in 1804 (quoted in Chapter 8). In June of

1811 Henry Brackenridge makes an entry into his journal concerning his

knowledge of their power displays: “Their devotion [i.e., praying] manifests

in a thousand curious tricks of slight of hand, which they call magic, and

which the vulgar amongst them believe to be something supernatural.

They are very superstitious. Besides their magic, or medicine lodge, in

which they have a great collection of magic, or sacred things, every one

has his private magic in his lodge, or about his person.”49 By the middle of

the century these “magic shows” had become well-known among whites.

“Edward Hall, a resident on the reservation since 1869, says that the

medicine lodge [ceremony] was known to the people at the various trading

stores as ‘the Opera,’ and they frequently attended the performance in

the evening, much as they might go to the theater. Each band [medicine

society] had its special type of sleight of hand, which had a connection

with the type of cures in which it specialized.”50 This means the Missouri

River settlers witnessed Arikara medicine power displays over a period of

at least seventy years. Trying to figure out just how their tricks worked

became a very popular form of local entertainment. This pattern of curi-

osity was found among many other Indian nations, and much guessing

was afoot as to how these “tricks” were executed. Again, they failed to

figure them out. Consequently, “many white people about the agencies

came to believe in the powers of certain medicine men.”51


The Coming of Anthropologists

By the latter part of the 1800’s anthropologists began coming onto

the scene, with much greater detail in their records. It was definitely

the golden age of American anthropology with hundreds of unstudied

cultures throughout the land. This is especially true from the 1880’s to

the 1920’s. This was a time when Indian cultures still retained many of

their traditional ceremonies such that medicine powers were still quite

active, even if practiced by only a few remaining shamans. After 1900

much of the recorded material was taken from elders who only recalled

from their youth having participated in ceremonies that were by then

extinct. Although more detailed than the early historical accounts, most

of the recorded material on medicine powers was still quite incomplete.

First, there was a general reluctance among traditional Indians to talk

about spirit powers. This was not so much because they were suspicious

of whites, but rather that they were simply not interested in talking to

anyone who didn’t believe in their powers in the first place. Those who had

converted to Christianity were embarrassed to say anything about their

“pagan” ways. Neither did they like to talk about medicine powers. Early

ethnographers reported difficulty in obtaining information on “secret soci-

eties.”52 Other Indians would not talk due to long-standing taboos against

speaking of such affairs lest bad medicine (harm) come their way. It was

common for shamans not to talk about their medicine powers for fear of

losing them.53 Among the northern Dene “to say one has inkonze [medi-

cine power] offends the beings of inkonze [spirits] who give power/knowl-

edge. They respond to such claims by taking away that which they have

given.”54 Therefore, it was almost impossible to persuade anyone to talk in

great depth about medicine powers.

For ceremonies still practiced, accounts were even more difficult to

come by. The main reason for this is that during the 1800’s the govern-

ment, in their effort to assimilate the American Indians, had declared

Indian ceremonies illegal. All their traditional ceremonies were declared

illegal. “Indian dancing” was first banned in the U.S. in 188255 and in

1884 in Canada.56 By 1894 the U.S. government banned all traditional

ceremonies, sweat lodges, Sun Dances57, vision quests, etc. Nevertheless,

their ceremonies were still held in secret.58 Because such ceremonies

were hidden and closed to the uninitiated, accurate details about them

were nearly impossible to acquire.59 However, those anthropologists who

successfully practiced a field technique known as “participant observa-

tion,” gained access to traditional ceremonies. Those who showed such a

great sincerity that they were initiated or adopted into the culture were

able to attend. As it turns out, there have been only a handful of anthro-

pologists who have dedicated themselves to this extent.

The main reason so few anthropologists took this approach was

because field researchers were trained simply to record data and not

become involved with their subjects. That is, “participant observation”

has its academic limits, and when an anthropologist begins to enjoy life

in his new-found primitive culture more than life in his own culture, his

colleagues back home begin to worry about his sanity. Worse yet would be

his becoming a spiritualist.

Field anthropologists were faced with a most difficult dilemma. They

were filled with fear that their colleagues would discredit their research

as being unscientific if they even hinted at any belief in medicine powers.

They stood to lose their livelihoods. So what one sees in their reports from

this period is an endless parade of tiptoeing around the issue of medi-

cine powers. Anything written about medicine powers is preceded with

qualifying statements such as “they believe that...”, “it is reported that...”,

“they have the superstition that...”, “the informant said...”, “the supposed

powers...”, each one designed to let the reader know that the writer is only

reporting what is being said and does not really believe in it. The result

of this fear has been that most anthropologists who came to believe in

such powers have simply chosen to remain silent on the issue rather than

face ridicule from colleagues and other such institutionalized abuses.

Nevertheless, one can find hints of their belief. For instance anthropolo-

gist Charles Hill-Tout was at a loss to explain medicine powers, and he

did go out on a limb to state, “It is not enough to put them aside with the

assertion that it is all humbug, ignorant superstition, or crass credulity.”60

However, what about those anthropologists who went native? The

first renegade to do so was Frank Hamilton Cushing, and with some-

what disastrous results, I might add. In fact, Cushing is often credited in

anthropology textbooks for having invented the “participant observation”

field technique. At the age of twenty-two, in the autumn of 1879, he was

sent by the then Bureau of Ethnology (renamed the Bureau of American

Ethnology in 1897) of the Smithsonian to study the Zuni people in the

Southwest. He was a member of a collecting expedition led by Colonel

James Stevenson. Once among the Zuni,


Cushing wandered about the pueblo, taking notes and making

sketches. He made friends with the children, but the older people

showed increasing hostility toward his recording activities. Finally,

seeking an ally in the pueblo, he moved uninvited into a room in

the home of the governor of the pueblo. There he stayed when,

after some weeks, the rest of the Stevenson party moved on to the

Hopi.61

In this crisis he became completely dependent on the Zuni, who set out to

make him into an Indian, patiently teaching him Zuni customs.

What was initially planned as a several-months field trip turned into

a two and a half year stay with the Zuni, during which time Cushing defi-

nitely “went native.” Cushing became quite fluent in the Zuni language,

and received the Indian name “Medicine Flower” due to some of the medic-

inal remedies he brought with him.62 By October of 1881, he was initiated

into the beginning rank of their sacred society of Priests of the Bow, even

though “membership in the bow priesthood is restricted to those who

have killed an enemy.”63 The Bow Priests waged warfare against external

enemies, internally enforced religious laws, and sought out witches.64

Cushing returned to the east coast for a few months during 1882, and

was back at Zuni by October of that same year. During his second stay

he continued to send field reports to the Smithsonian; however when he

started signing his reports as “1st War Chief of Zuni” his colleagues at

the Smithsonian became quite concerned. Ultimately, in 1884, he was

forced to leave Zuni and recalled to Washington, DC, primarily for stop-

ping attempts by a U.S. army unit to take over Zuni lands. Cushing no

doubt saw himself as fulfilling his role as Bow Priest. Unfortunately for

him, this army unit happened to be led by the son-in-law of Senator John

A. Logan. When Senator Logan heard about the incident, he threatened to

withhold funds from the Bureau of Ethnology. By this means the senator

forced Cushing’s recall.

In Washington, D.C. Cushing became known as the “Zuni man” and

would often make appearances in full Zuni attire. By December 1886 he

returned to Zuni, this time funded by Boston philanthropist, Mrs. Mary

Hemenway, who in the interim had befriended Cushing. However, this was

mainly an archaeological expedition. Until his death in 1900 he continued

to publish, but he never published a single word regarding their medicine

powers or about the society to which he belonged. If he ever made any field

notes on them, they were never found. Cushing opted to remain totally

silent in print with regard to Indian medicine powers.

Other noteworthy early ethnographers who were “participant

observers” include Alexander M. Stephen among the Hopi, James Mooney

among the Plains cultures, Joseph Keppler and Frank Speck among the

Seneca, Robert Salzer among the Potawatomi, and Knud Rasmussen

among the Inuit (Eskimo). Clark Wissler was also well received and was

given the Indian name of “He-who-gets-what-he-goes-after” by one nation,

even though he had problems dealing with medicine powers.65 However,

Vilhjàlmur Stefànsson, who lived among the Inuit, flatly reports “no

genuine doctors are frauds” and left it at that.66 In addition there were also

a few early field observers who were themselves American Indians, such

as Arthur C. Parker (Seneca), Francis La Flesche (an Omaha who was

adopted by anthropologist Alice C. Fletcher), and Gladys Tantaquidgeon

(Mohegan, a student of Frank Speck). All of these scholars contributed in

one way or another to the continuation of Indian sacred traditions, but

were not outspoken regarding their reality.

Alexander Stephen lived among the Hopis from 1890 to 1894. He had

first met the Hopis in 1882, and by 1890 had been adopted by them.

Subsequently he was initiated into three different Hopi medicine soci-

eties. He spoke Hopi, although not fluently, and also Navajo. Just before

his death from tuberculosis in 1894, Stephen was being treated by Yellow

Bear, a Hopi medicine man. Joseph Keppler was formally initiated into

the Seneca Wolf Clan around 1898 and eventually rose to a distinguished

Pine Tree chieftainship. Knud Rasmussen became virtually a culture-

hero among the Inuit during the first part of the last century, living their

lifestyle, speaking their language, eating a diet of raw meat, etc. He also

submitted himself to shamanic healing. Frank Speck, described by one

colleague as a “nature mystic,” was initiated into the Seneca Turtle Clan

and eventually, in 1947, became known as Gaheh dagowa, or “Great

Porcupine.” Just prior to his death in the spring of 1950 Speck was under

the treatment of Avery Jemerson, a Seneca “ritual holder” (medicine man),

who conducted an Eagle Dance healing ceremony on Speck’s behalf.

Robert Salzer worked among the Forest Potawatomi in Forest County,

WI, from 1952 to 1959. His deep interest in them resulted in his eventual

adoption into their Eagle clan.67 However, as far as I can discover, none

of these anthropologists ever publicly championed the reality of Indian


medicine powers, mainly due to the long-standing taboo against such a

belief. Nevertheless, I believe they all firmly believed in them.

From around the late 1930’s to the late 1960’s it was fashionable

among anthropologists, mainly in their pursuit of being seen as “scien-

tific,” to study shamans from a psychological point of view, most often with

the result that they were seen as a bit insane if not downright psychotic.68

Thankfully, this was a short-lived view and we now understand shamans

to be the psychological vanguards of stability in a community.69

A Hopi Account

We generally overlook the fact that when anthropologists in the field

encountered some form of medicine power, more often than not their study

subjects knew about it. Consequently, there are some rare accounts that

come not from anthropologists, but from Indians themselves. Take for

example the visit of anthropologist J. Walter Fewkes to the Hopi village

of Walpi in the fall of 1898. Although Fewkes never reported the following

incident, he did relate it to the priests of their winter Wuwuchim ceremo-

nial in their kiva (round ceremonial chamber within a pueblo) the following

day. The following Hopi account of it was first published in 1936:

Dr. Fewkes had been in the [Wuwuchim] kiva all day taking

notes on what he saw going on there. Finally the men told him that

he must go away and stay in his house for Masauwu [the Earth

God] was coming, and that part of the ceremony was very sacred,

and no outside person was ever allowed to see what was going on.

They told him to go into his house and lock the door, and not to try

to see anything no matter what happened, or he would be dragged

out and he would “freeze” to death. So he went away into his house,

locked the door just as he had been told to do, sat down, and began

to work on his field notes.

Now suddenly he had a queer feeling, for he felt that there

was someone in the room, and he looked up and saw a tall man

standing before him, but he could not see his face for the light was

not good. He felt very much surprised for he knew that he had

locked the door.

He said, “What do you want and how did you get in here?” The

man replied, “I have come to entertain you.”

Dr. Fewkes said, “Go away, I am busy and I do not wish to be

entertained.”

And now as he was looking at the man, he suddenly was not

there any more. Then a voice said, “Turn your head a moment,”

and when the Doctor looked again the figure stood before him once

more, but this time its head was strange and dreadful to see.

And the Doctor said, “How did you get in?”, and the man

answered and said, “I go where I please, locked doors cannot keep

me out! See, I will show you how I entered,” and, as Dr. Fewkes

watched, he shrank away and became like a single straw in a Hopi

hair whisk and he vanished through the key hole.

Now Dr. Fewkes was very much frightened and as he was

thinking what to do, there was the man back again. So he said

once more to him, “What do you want?”, and the figure answered

as before and said, “I have come to entertain you.” So the Doctor

offered him a cigarette and then a match, but the man laughed

and said, “Keep your match, I do not need it,” and he held the

cigarette before his horrible face and blew a stream of fire from

his mouth upon it and lit his cigarette. Then Dr. Fewkes was very

much afraid indeed, for now he knew who it was [Masauwu].

Then the being talked and talked to him, and finally the Doctor

“gave up to him” and said he would become a Hopi and be like

them and believe in Masauwu, and Masauwu cast his spell on him

and they both became like little children and all night long they

played around together and Masauwu gave the Doctor no rest.70

Shaken by this encounter, Fewkes made a premature departure from

Walpi. In the Smithsonian’s annual report for that year the director

reported that Dr. Fewkes returned early to Washington due to an outbreak

of smallpox among the Hopi that year, but the Hopi will tell you that he

returned because of his unnerving encounter with Masauwu.


Prof. Brigham Breaks the Silence

In addition to John Swanton, there was another eminent anthropolo-

gist who fully believed in medicine powers, but never uttered a word of it

to his colleagues, again out of fear of being ridiculed. This was Dr. William

Tufts Brigham, who became the director of the Museum of Ethnology at

the Bishop Museum in Honolulu in 1888. During his distinguished career

he became the leading authority of the times on Polynesian cultures,

to include their botany. He produced the best ethnographic records of

traditional Hawaiian culture ever published, and he was fluent in their

language as well. During the latter part of the 19th century Brigham was

seen as a haole (white) kahuna (medicine man) among his Hawaiian infor-

mants. He both observed and participated in their sacred rituals. He even

witnessed a kahuna stop a lava flow with his medicine powers. By the end

of his career he was world renowned and highly esteemed. Near the end of

his life and with great caution he finally allowed himself to talk about his

belief in kahuna medicine powers.

In 1923, at the age of eighty-two years old, he chose to confide in a

Baptist-raised schoolteacher sent over from the mainland, named Max

Freedom Long. Long had come to Hawaii in 1917 to teach native chil-

dren. Over the course of the next five years Long was assigned to several

locations, and was well-liked and accepted in each new location. Every

now and then he would hear the word kahuna in conversations, but each

time he inquired about them he was met with total silence. Over time he

became more and more curious about them. Do they really exist? Do they

really have magical powers? As time passed, he became more frustrated.

Finally, after five years of getting nowhere he had the opportunity to

visit the Bishop Museum. When he announced to the receptionist (a native

Hawaiian) that he had come to inquire about kahunas, he was promptly

turned over to Dr. Brigham. However, Brigham was not at all forthcoming.

He began to question Long about the things he had heard, where he had

lived, and all the Hawaiian people he had come to know in those places. As

Long grew more impatient Brigham pressed on. Long reports, “He seemed

to forget the purpose of my visit and lose himself in the exploration of my

background. He wanted to know what I had read, where I had studied,

and what I thought about a dozen matters which were quite aside from the

question I had raised.”71

Suddenly, just as Long’s patience was wearing thin, Brigham fixed a

stern gaze on him and said, “Can I trust you to respect my confidence? I

have a little scientific standing which I wish to preserve, even in the vanity

of my old age.”72 Here Brigham was referring to the academic humiliation

he knew he would suffer if he were to speak publicly about the reality of

medicine powers. In fact, Brigham made Long promise not to publish a

word of what he told him until after his death. He didn’t want to see his

worked discredited during his lifetime. Long did keep his promise and

waited nearly a decade after Brigham’s death to publish what had been

revealed to him.

By the time Long had come to the museum, he had concluded that

kahuna medicine powers were merely superstition. So you can imagine

how shocked he was when Brigham finally blurted out, “For forty years I

have been studying the kahunas to find the answer to the question you

have asked [about the reality of their medicine powers]. The kahunas do

use what you have called magic. They do heal. They do kill. They do look

into the future and change it for their clients. Many were impostors, but

some were genuine.”73

Subsequently Brigham told Long:

It’s magic...It took me years to come to that understanding [of

the reality of medicine powers], but it is my final decision after long

study and observation...It has been no easy task for me to come

to believe magic possible. And even after I was dead-sure it was

magic I still had a deep-seated doubt concerning my own conclu-

sions.74 You may say for me that I gave my word as a student and a

gentleman that I would, and had, told the exact truth about what

I saw and did. This is all either of us can do. Both of us will be

branded unholy liars by a certain class. That class you can afford

to snub, and, as I will be dead, I will have lost my childish fear of

losing standing as a scientist. However, I trust that before you are

as old as I am, the thing we call “magic” will have been taken into

the laboratory, in some way, and made a part of the working equip-

ment of the world.75

After forty years, Brigham did have a clear notion of what was involved

in medicine powers, just no explanation for them. He told Long:


Always keep watch for three things in the study of this magic.

There must be some form of consciousness back of, and directing,

the process of magic [i.e., the observation being made by the cere-

monial participants]...There must also be some form of force used

in exerting this control, if we can but recognize it [i.e., sincere

praying]. And last, there must be some form of substance, visible

or invisible, through which the force can act [i.e., the helping

spirits].76

The missing ingredient for Brigham was the observer effect.

At one point in their many conversations over the next four years, up

until his death, Brigham recounted the time, as a young anthropologist,

he participated in his first fire-walking ceremony. Brigham also told Long

that by 1900 he knew of no kahunas who could any longer perform this

ceremony. In order to give you a clear picture of just what “participant

observation” can entail, I’m quoting Brigham’s full account of it. Among

his kahuna friends were three who knew fire magic. At one point they told

Brigham that not only would they demonstrate their fire–walking abilities

for him, but he could also fire-walk under their protection. Fire-walking

always took place just after a volcanic eruption. This means nature set

the date for the ceremony. Soon thereafter Brigham was in South Kona, at

Napoopoo, when Mauna Loa erupted on the island of Hawaii. After a few

days, when the lava flow looked promising, Brigham sent word to his three

kahuna friends to come for a fire-walking ceremony. Brigham reports:

It was a week before they arrived, as they had to come around from

Kau by canoe. To them it was our reunion that counted and not so

simple a matter as a bit of fire-walking. Nothing would do but that

we get a pig and have a luau [feast].

It was a great luau. Half of Kona invited itself. When it was

over I had to wait another day until one of the kahunas sobered up

enough to travel.

It was night when we finally got off after having to wait an

entire afternoon to get rid of those who had heard what was up

and wished to go along. I’d have taken them all had it not been

that I was not too sure I would walk the hot lava when the time

came. I had seen these three kahunas run barefooted over little

overflows of lava at Kilauea, and the memory of the heat wasn’t any

too encouraging.

The going was hard that night as we climbed the gentle slope

and worked our way across the old lava flows towards the upper

rain forests. The kahunas had on sandals, but the sharp cindery

particles on some of the old flows got next to their feet. We were

always having to wait while one or the other sat down and removed

the adhesive cinders.

When we got up among the trees and ferns it was dark as pitch.

We fell over roots and into holes. We gave it up after a time and

bedded down in an old lava tube for the rest of the night. In the

morning we ate some of our poi [taro root pounded into a paste and

then left to ferment] and dried fish, then set out to find more water.

This took us some time as there are no springs or streams in those

parts and we had to watch for puddles of rain water gathered in

hollow places in the rocks.

Until noon we climbed upward under a smoky sky and with the

smell of sulphur fumes growing stronger and stronger. Then came

more poi and fish. At about three o’clock we arrived at the source

of the flow.

It was a grand sight. The side of the mountain had broken open

just above the timber line and the lava was spouting out of several

vents— shooting with a roar as high as two hundred feet, and

falling to make a great bubbling pool.

The pool drained off at the lower end into the flow. An hour

before sunset we started following it down in search of a place

where we could try our experiment.

As usual, the flow had followed the ridges instead of the valleys

and had built itself up enclosing walls of clinker [hard masses of

fused stony matter]. These walls were up to a thousand yards in

width and the hot lava ran between them in a channel it had cut

to bedrock.

We climbed up these walls several times and crossed them to

have a look at the flow. The clinkery surface was cool enough by

then for us to walk on it, but here and there we could look down

into cracks and see the red glow below. Now and again we had to

dodge places where colourless flames were spouting up like gas

jets in the red light filtering through the smoke.


Coming down to the rain forest without finding a place where

the flow blocked up and overflowed periodically, we bedded down

again for the night. In the morning we went on, and in a few hours

found what we wanted. The flow crossed a more level strip perhaps

a half-mile wide. Here the enclosing walls ran in flat terraces, with

sharp drops from one level to the next. Now and again a floating

boulder or mass of clinker would plug the flow just where a drop

commenced, and then the lava would back up and spread out into

a large pool. Soon the plug would be forced out and the lava would

drain away, leaving behind a fine flat surface to walk on when

sufficiently hardened.

Stopping beside the largest of three overflows, we watched it fill

and empty. The heat was intense, of course, even up on the clin-

kery wall. Down below us the lava was red and flowing like water,

the only difference being that water couldn’t get that hot and that

the lava never made a sound even when going twenty miles an

hour down a sharp grade. That silence always interests me when I

see a flow. Where water has to run over rocky bottoms and rough

projections, lava burns off everything and makes itself a channel

as smooth as the inside of a crock.

As we wanted to get back down to the coast that day, the

kahunas wasted no time. They had brought ti leaves with them

and were all ready for action as soon as the lava would bear our

weight. (The leaves of the ti plant are universally used by fire-

walkers where available in Polynesia. They are a foot or two long

and fairly narrow, with cutting edges like saw–grass. They grow

in a tuft on the top of a stock resembling in shape and size a

broomstick.)

When the rocks we threw on the lava surface showed that it

had hardened enough to bear our weight, the kahunas arose and

clambered down the side of the wall. It was far worse than a bake

oven when we got to the bottom. The lava was blackening on the

surface, but all across it ran heat discolorations that came and

went as they do on cooling iron before a blacksmith plunges it

into his tub for tempering. I heartily wished that I had not been so

curious. The very thought of running over that flat inferno to the

other side made me tremble—and remember that I had seen all

three of the kahunas scamper over hot lava at Kilauea.

The kanunas took off their sandals and tied ti leaves around

their feet, about three leaves to the foot. I sat down and began tying

my ti leaves on outside my big hob-nailed boots. I wasn’t taking

any chances. But that wouldn’t do at all—I must take off my boots

and my two pair of socks. The goddess Pele hadn’t agreed to keep

boots from burning and it might be an insult to her if I wore them.

I argued hotly—and I say “hotly” because we were all but

roasted. I knew Pele wasn’t the one who made fire-magic possible,

and I did my best to find out what or who was. As usual they

grinned and said that of course the “white” kahuna knew the trick

of getting mana (power of some kind known to kahunas) out of air

and water to use in kahuna work, and that we were wasting time

talking about the thing no kahuna ever put into words—the secret

handed down only from father to son.

The upshot of the matter was that I sat tight and refused to

take off my boots. In the back of my mind I figured that if the

Hawaiians could walk over hot lava with bare calloused feet, I

could do it with my heavy leather soles to protect me. Remember

that this happened at a time when I still had an idea that there was

some physical explanation for the thing.

The kahunas got to considering my boots a great joke. If I

wanted to offer them as a sacrifice to the gods, it might be a good

idea. They grinned at each other and left me to tie on my leaves

while they began their chants [spirit/power calling songs].

The chants were in an archaic Hawaiian which I could not

follow. It was the usual “god-talk” handed down word for word for

countless generations. All I could make of it was that it consisted of

simple little mentions of legendary history and was peppered with

praise of some god or gods.

I almost roasted alive before the kahunas had finished their

chanting, although it could not have taken more than a few

minutes. Suddenly the time was at hand. One of the kahunas beat

at the shimmering surface of the lava with a bunch of ti leaves and

then offered me the honour of crossing first. Instantly I remem-

bered my manners; I was all for age before beauty.

The matter was settled at once by deciding that the oldest

kahuna should go first, I second and the others side by side [a protec-

tive formation around Brigham]. Without a moment of hesitation


the oldest man trotted out on that terrifically hot surface. I was

watching him with my mouth open and he was nearly across—a

distance of about a hundred and fifty feet—when someone gave me

a shove that resulted in my having my choice of falling on my face

on the lava or catching a running stride.

I still do not know what madness seized me, but I ran. The heat

was unbelievable. I held my breath and my mind seemed to stop

functioning. I was young then and could do my hundred-yard dash

with the best. Did I run! I flew! I would have broken all records,

but with my first few steps the soles of my boots began to burn.

They curled and shrank, clamping down on my feet like a vice.

The seams gave way and I found myself with one sole gone and the

other flapping behind me from the leather strap at the heel.

That flapping sole was almost the death of me. It tripped

me repeatedly and slowed me down. Finally, after what seemed

minutes, but could not have been more than a few seconds, I

leaped off to safety.

I looked down at my feet and found my socks burning at the

edges of the curled leather uppers of my boots. I beat out the

smouldering fire in the cotton fabric and looked up to find my

three kahunas rocking with laughter as they pointed to the heel

and sole of my left boot which lay smoking and burned to a crisp

on the lava.

I laughed too. I was never so relieved in my life as I was to find

that I was safe and that there was not a blister on my feet—not

even where I had beaten out the fire in the socks.

There is little more that I can tell of this experience. I had

a sensation of intense heat on my face and body, but almost no

sensation in my feet. When I touched them with my hands they

were hot on the bottoms, but they did not feel so except to my

hands. None of the kahunas had a blister, although the ti leaves

had burned off their soles.

My return trip to the coast was a nightmare. Trying to make it

in improvised sandals whittled from green wood has left me with

an impression almost more vivid than my fire-walking.77

In reflecting on this incident Brigham added,

I knew I had walked over hot lava, but still I couldn’t always believe

it possible that I could have done so...No, there is no mistake. The

kahunas use magic in their fire-walking as well as in many other

things. There is one set of natural laws for the physical world and

another for the other world. And—try to believe this if you can: The

laws of the other side are so much the stronger that they can be

used to neutralize and reverse the laws of the physical.78

Here Brigham is exactly in line with how Indian medicine people

view reality—the laws of the unseen world are stronger than the laws of

this world.79 In essence, he is saying the laws of quantum mechanics are

capable of overriding the spce-time laws of Newtonian physics.

The Most Famous Indian Account

This long-standing taboo of believing in medicine powers extends to

all forms of writing on American Indians, not just to anthropologists.

Again, I turn to John Neihardt’s Black Elk Speaks. As mentioned in the

last chapter, initially it was a failure despite many favorable reviews.

Again, Neihardt was obliged to return part of his advance to publisher

William Morrow.80 However, its 1961 republication eventually resulted in

this book’s becoming the most popular book ever written on the Indians.

That is, it holds the current record for the most copies sold worldwide.

Neihardt had come to a point in the writing of his epic, Cycles of the

West, that he felt he needed some first-hand information concerning

Wovoka and his widespread Ghost Dance movement of the 1880’s. To that

end Neihardt drove, with his son Sigurd, in August of 1930 to the Pine

Ridge Reservation in South Dakota to find someone who had met Wovoka.

He was told that he should seek out an old man, who spoke no English,

named Nicolas (“Nick”) Black Elk. A Lakota named Flying Hawk agreed to

take Neihardt to Manderson to meet the old medicine man. However, much

to Neihardt’s amazement, when he arrived Black Elk forthwith informed

Neihardt that he had been sent “to save his great vision” and that he had

been waiting for him to arrive. Black Elk said, “What I know was given

to me for men and it is true and it is beautiful. Soon I shall be under the

grass and it will be lost. You were sent to save it, and you must come back

so that I can teach you.”81 Black Elk then told Neihardt to return the


following spring, and this he did, leaving his home in Branson, Missouri

on May 1, 1931 along with his daughter Hilda and niece Enid. Over the

next few weeks Black Elk’s son, Ben, translated what Nick said and Enid

recorded Ben’s translations in shorthand.

For Black Elk the telling of his vision was a sacred undertaking, and

upon completing his story to Neihardt he wanted to “pray to the six grand-

fathers that the tree of his vision would bloom at last.”82 Black Elk decided

they should pray atop Harney Peak in the Black Hills, the highest point

in South Dakota. Thus it was that on the morning of May 29 they set out

for the Black Hills from Manderson, South Dakota—Neihardt, girls, and

supplies in one car with Black Elk and Ben following them in Ben’s car.

That evening they spent the night in a rented cabin near the base of Harney

Peak at Sylvan Lake. The next morning they began their climb. Neihardt

later wrote to his publisher Morrow, “On the way up he told his son [Ben]

that if he had any power left surely there would be a little thunder and

some rain while he was on the Peak. This is a curious thing and equally

interesting for it [sic], but at the time we were going up and after we were

on the Peak, the day was bright and clear.”83

It was customary for Black Elk to paint his body red and adorn his

breechcloth for this ceremony. However, he was too shy and embarrassed

to be that nude in front of the girls. So when they reached the top Black

Elk hid behind a rock where he put on a pair of red-flannel long under-

wear, and then his breechcloth over that. He also put on a buffalo skin cap

with a single eagle feather in it, and beaded moccasins. Neihardt thought

he looked a bit humorous, but did not dare laugh.

Properly dressed and with his sacred pipe in hand, Black Elk raised

his pipe toward the sky and began to pray, “raising his voice to a wail,

he sang” his prayer. As tears rolled down his cheeks Neihardt reports,

“During his prayer on the summit, clouds came up and there was low

thunder and a scant, chill rain fell.”84 DeMallie also reports, “It did rain

out of a perfectly bright sky and then it cleared up immediately after-

ward.”85 The ceremony was deemed a success, and so was Neihardt’s book.

As mentioned, during the interviews with Black Elk, Enid recorded the

translations in Gregg shorthand. Later she transcribed her notes into a

typewritten form. It was from Enid’s typescript that Neihardt crafted his

now-famous book. She also kept a personal diary of their time with Black

Elk. Few readers know that Neihardt fabricated “the beginning and the

ending” of the book, but nevertheless made it as true as he could to Black

Elk’s own meaning.86 Therefore, it should come as no surprise that Fools

Crow, Black Elk’s blood nephew and also a powerful Lakota medicine

man, didn’t agree with Neihardt’s wording. Thomas Mails reports: “One

day when I was with Fools Crow, I read a portion of the [Black Elk Speaks]

book to him. Before long he had a puzzled look on his face, and when I

stopped, asked, ‘Who is that you are reading about?’ When I told him, he

shook his head back and forth in disbelief and said, ‘That is not my uncle,

Black Elk.’”87

However, Neihardt readily admitted to altering Black Elk’s words in

order “to be true to the old man’s meaning and manner of expression.

I am convinced there were times when we had more than the ordinary

means of communication.”88 He did this in order to make Black Elk’s

message understandable for whites. What most people do not know is that

Neihardt often toned down Black Elk’s medicine power accounts to make

the book more palatable (and marketable) to western readers, possibly

under pressure from his publisher. For example, Enid made the following

notes concerning Black Elk’s story about a medicine ceremony:

Because of the [ceremonial] power going on in the tipi the

horses all rushed to it. My horse neighed right at the door and it

stopped then and I got off. I did not get there first for some of them

were closer to the tipi than I was. We had some orderlies which

took the horses and we all went into the tipi. Everyone was eager

to see the place, too. On the fresh dirt we could see small horse

tracks all over the tipi floor. The spirit horses had been dancing

around the circle of the tipi.8

In the published version Neihardt has Black Elk saying at this point:

My horse plunged inward along with all the others, but many

were ahead of me and many couped the teepee before I did.

Then the horses were all rubbed down with sacred sage and

led away, and we began going into the teepee to see what might

have happened there while we were dancing. The Grandfathers

had sprinkled fresh soil on the nation’s hoop that they had made

in there with the red and black roads across it, and all around this


little circle of the nation’s hoop we saw the prints of tiny pony hoofs

as though the spirit horses had been dancing while we danced.90

It is with his “as though” qualifier that Neihardt subtly removes from

the record the actual spirit power that manifested in this particular cere-

mony. And what about the horses’ sensing the power as well? One can only

wonder where Neihardt thought the tiny hoof prints really came from. I

know from my own experience that spirit tracks are a common event in

Lakota ceremonies. During one of Godfrey’s healing ceremonies I was

attending, a spirit did just that. All of the ceremonial food to be eaten at

the concluding feast was placed inside the altar area prior to the begin-

ning of the ceremony. Then at one point during the ceremony (conducted

in total darkness) everyone could hear a spirit running across the top of

a casserole dish covered with tin foil. After the ceremony, when the lights

were turned on, we all saw a tiny set of human footprints embedded into

the tin foil.

Neihardt’s Black Elk also regrets joining the Ghost Dance, which was

never the case.91 I suspect either Neihardt was intent on making the text

less confrontational for his readers where medicine powers are concerned,

or he was forced to do so by his publisher.

So the bad news is that most anthropologists and others who have

ever witnessed American Indian medicine powers have been the very

people who have been responsible for concealing their reality from the

general public. The public was never informed of their reality due mainly

to the writers’ fear of personal ridicule. After all, Indian notions about

such powers appear completely absurd to us. Nevertheless, these fear-

based actions constitute a great discredit to any true understanding of

American Indian cultures in general.

The good news is that our views are changing, and many of the

upcoming anthropologists are now approaching American Indian medi-

cine powers with the assumption that they are quite real. These anthro-

pologists are not being labeled “unholy liars” as Brigham had feared, but

the ridicule continues. For example, when Michael Winkelman (in 1982)

pointed out that “the conditions employed in tribal magic rituals—condi-

tions such as ASC’s [altered states of consciousness], visualizations, and

positive expectations—parallel those supposed to facilitate psi...he was

loudly lambasted by critics.”92 Nevertheless, we are witnessing a whole new

generation of researchers who are willing to dive deeply into “participant

observation.” Very few senior anthropologists have been able to change

their opinion of spirit helpers. However, one who definitely has is Edith

Turner, wife of anthropologist Victor Turner, both of whom are scholars

well-known for their ground-breaking work on symbolism that grew out of

their African fieldwork beginning in the 1950’s. Thirty years later Turner

saw for herself an African Ihamba hunter spirit, during a ceremony among

the Ndembu of northwestern Zambia. Afterwards, she told the shaman:

We settled down to talk, and I respectfully described what I

saw, but Singleton [the shaman] made no comment. He did not

give any details about what he actually saw. I was in no mood to

become analytical, so I did not push the matter further. When the

keystone of the bridge is put into position and everything holds,

you tend to just look on with your mouth hanging open. This is

what happened to me. If I had become analytical at that moment, I

would have been a different person from the one who saw the spirit

form.93

Later on her fieldwork, this time among the Inupiat of Alaska, convinced

her of the reality of spirits. “These [spirit] manifestations constitute the

deliberate visitation of discernable forms that have the conscious intent to

communicate, to claim importance in our lives.”94 Of course, to “discern”

spirits the anthropologist has to break the long-standing “going native”

taboo.

There is spirit stuff. There is spirit affliction: it isn’t a matter

of metaphor and symbol, or even psychology. And I began to see

how anthropologists have perpetuated an endless series of put–

downs about the many spirit events in which they participated—

“participated” in a kindly pretense. They might have obtained

valuable material, but they have been operating with the wrong

paradigm, that of the positivist’s denial...I am now learning that

studying such a mentality from inside is a legitimate and valu-

able kind of anthropology that is accessible if the anthropologist

takes the “fatal” step toward “going native”...Thus for me, “going


native” achieved a breakthrough to an altogether different world-

view, foreign to academia, by means of which certain material was

chronicled that could have been gathered in no other way.95

The First Anthropologist to Break the Silence

There have been many anthropologists, like Matilda Stevenson, who

were outspoken against the reality of medicine powers. She wrote of

the Zuni “wild” ceremonies, full of “the most weird incantations,” that

contained aspects that were “disgusting” and full of “depravity.”96 She saw

such powers as so much “humbuggery.”97 Some anthropologists claimed

outright that it was entirely a slight-of-hand affair.98 It was the rule of the

times to do so. Finding anthropologists like Swanton and Brigham who

did speak out is like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Frank Hamilton Cushing was the best candidate, given his prolonged

stay with the Zuni, but again he remained silent on the subject. I suspect

his silence was due more to an oath of secrecy to the Zuni than fear of

ridicule by colleagues, given his eccentricities. However, he does lead us to

another needle in the haystack, anthropologist Carlos Troyer.

During the late 1800’s Carlos Troyer, a Brazilian ethnomusicologist

born in Germany, was recording the music of Brazilian Indians. He was

a personal friend of King Dom Pedro of Brazil. After the king’s monarchy

collapsed, Troyer, in 1880, fled Brazil and ended up spending the rest

of his life in San Francisco. It was there, probably through his member-

ship in the California Academy of Sciences, that Troyer came to meet

Cushing. Cushing was interested in his work in Brazil and asked Troyer

to set to score Zuni music he had recorded. In 1888 Troyer decided to

make a “prolonged visit” to the Zuni in order to study them and their

music. Cushing acted as to go-between and introduced Troyer to the Zuni.

Cushing would sing a song while Troyer worked on the transcription.

Each song was repeated until they were both satisfied the transcription

was correct.99

Cushing was only forty-three years old when he died in 1900. He had

been sickly most of his life, but prematurely died by choking on a fish bone.

However, it was not until 1913 that Troyer published his Zuni observations

in a small pamphlet entitled Indian Music Lecture. That makes it twenty-

five years after his visit to the Zuni, a clear indication of hesitation on his

part. The text of the pamphlet makes clear that Troyer is a spiritualist,

most likely due to his earlier contact with the Brazilian Indians. What is

advertised as a lecture on Indian music turns out to be a 19th-century

spiritualist approach to the psychic abilities of the Zunis. This rare publi-

cation constitutes the first time, at least in my search, of an anthropolo-

gist clearly putting into print his belief in Indian supernatural abilities.

Troyer’s first observation begins with breathing. When a Zuni child is

born the mother’s “first aim in vital training is to get her baby to breathe

slowly and deeply to broaden its lungs, which she accomplishes by deli-

cate and short compressions of its lips and nostrils...It may be of interest

to draw attention here to a well established fact that Indians in general

possess large lungs and are deep and slow breathers.”100 As adults, a

Zuni naturally takes deep, slow, long breaths. This technique is taught to

meditation and yoga students as well as prescribed by psychotherapists

for stress, but the Zunis begin this training with their infants.

The primary lesson of a child’s mental training is next directed

to the perception and distinction of color. This will be shown to

exert a wonderful influence in later life, in developing a suscep-

tibility [sic] for distinguishing colors of most delicate shades, and

in the vision, in sensitiveness of defining the aura of subjects in

organic and inorganic life...It will be found that by continuous

application of color–impressions...a primary basis is formed for

developing mental concentration and the power to perceive colors

at will, while the eyes are closed. This may be seriously doubted

only by those who have never made the proper test by careful

and repeated efforts. The fact remains patent, and it can be fully

attested, that even in these primitive children, psychic vision can

be, and had been developed to a remarkable degree.101

In 1922 Elsie Parsons (known to the Indians as “the-lady-who-smokes–

colored-cigarettes”), who became the foremost expert on the Southwest

cultures, reported a similar feat.

In the koyemshi guessing game I watched on September 12

[1918], a man and a woman were called out in the usual way to

guess the concealed object. Between two lines of baskets of wheat


and of strings of corn ears lying on the ground was a watermelon

in which a hole had been scraped as a place to hide the object to

be guessed, which was the tin cover of a pot. The man stood next

to koyemshi awan tachu, the woman on the other side of the man.

The man according to rule had four guesses—then the woman

would have been given four guesses—but the man appeared to

guess right on his first guess, and awan tach handed him the

melon.102

Notice Parson’s insertion in the above quote of her qualifier “appeared

to guess right” as required by academia instead of “guessed right.”

Even Cushing as early as 1897 briefly speaks of those Zunis who have

the “Seeing Spirit” that gives them “the power of penetration into the

unseen.”103 (Cushing gives no examples, but does include the qualifier

“supposed to be endowed with the power...”)

Once taught, the Zuni children become deeply involved for long periods

of time in playing guessing games involving their psychic vision.

The common form of this amusement is in one child guessing

what another holds concealed in the closed hands. For this purpose

beads of red, yellow, blue, black and white, are employed in the

simpler tests. The Zuñis, even the quite little folk, very rarely miss

guessing those correctly. They also attempt tests with other arti-

cles not distinguished by any particular color, resulting in almost

equal success in guessing by the more expert and trained. An inci-

dent of a young squaw of highly developed psychic vision was one

day presented to me. She had just arrived from another cliff-colony,

and had never seen or heard a violin played. She consented to

allow me to test her psychic powers by promise to play the “zindi”

(violin) for her. I held concealed in one hand a key to my violin–box,

and in the other hand a small watch, and grasped a number of

small eagle feathers in both hands, allowing the feathers to stick

out between my fingers, so as to be seen, and divert her vision. She

walked around me once or twice, looking at my head, but not at my

hands, then stood before me waving her hands, and shaking her

head as if in disapproval of the display of feathers. Then she made

at once a motion with one hand as if in the act of sticking a key into

a keyhole of a violin box, then that of opening and throwing back

a lid and then that of playing upon the instrument. I then opened

my hand, when she picked out the little key among the bunch

of feathers. The other hand, holding my watch, she described by

holding her half-closed hand to her ear, saying—”Tuck, tuck, tuck,

tuck,” indicating the ticking of a watch. She was greatly interested

when I opened my watch and explained the works and the cause of

its motion, as she had never seen a watch before.104

Thus it is that Troyer stands as the earliest professional anthropologist

I’ve found to break the academic taboo and write the truth about Indian

powers, even though disguised as a music lecture and published by a

small music company press. Unlike Swanton, Troyer was not well-known

and was not under any academic pressure to be silent at the time of his

disclosure. He was not a professor and most of his publications were sheet

music compositions, not ethnographic reports. Also, he was then seventy-

six years old, and like Brigham and Swanton, at the end of his career.

Thirteen years had passed since Cushing’s death. So I suspect Troyer felt

an urge to publish his finding before his death. He passed over in 1920.

I have no doubt that if Carlos Troyer knew about the Zuni’s psychic

abilities, then other anthropologists were talking among themselves

about it as well. No doubt Troyer talked to Cushing about it upon his

return from the Zuni. Also, there is a copy of his pamphlet in the Autry

National Center (formerly the Southwest Museum of the American Indian)

in L.A. that is inscribed to George Wharton James, the leading expert

on Indian baskets and Navajo blankets at that time. So Troyer was most

likely giving out copies of his pamphlet to other anthropologists. One clear

candidate is Frederick Webb Hodge. He had recently become the Director

of the Smithsonian’s Bureau of American Ethnology, thus holding the

most prestigious anthropology position in the United States. However,

back in 1879, he had served as a secretary on the Stevenson expedition

to the Pueblos that included Cushing. So he not only knew Cushing, but

later on he married Cushing’s sister. So there is a very good chance that

Troyer also gave Hodge a copy of this publication, perhaps for nothing

more than out of respect for his being Cushing’s brother-in-law. Finally,

Francis Densmore, the leading American ethnomusicologist, mentions


Troyer’s work on Zuni music in her coverage of 19th century Indian music

studies.105 So she probably knew Troyer and read his pamphlet as well.

In all fairness I believe that most American anthropologists at that

time simply didn’t believe in Indian medicine powers, especially if they

had never had any field contact with medicine people. For that reason,

when told about such mysteries by their informants, they simply chose

to treat them as superstition rather than investigate the subject. Matilda

Stevenson was aware that the Zuni believed in mental telepathy, and even

mentions it as “heart speaks to heart, and lips do not move.”106 Obviously,

she never bothered to investigate thoroughly their psychic powers as did

Troyer, or choose to conceal her findings.

There are a number of European anthropologists who believed in medi-

cine powers as well. For example, in 1931 French anthropologist Caesar

de Vesme published an extensive work on primitive supernatural abili-

ties. He was well aware that anthropologists, in general, rejected magic

“because it upsets the theories on which they have based their reputa-

tion, or because admission would take them beyond the circle of their

scholastic doctrine.”107 He included many accounts of supernatural abili-

ties among primitive people world wide, including the North American

Indians.108 Vesme not only believed in “supernormal facts,” he was certain

that shamanistic systems were “of a scientific order.”109

I have heard of mental telepathy among Lakota elders. Wallace Black

Elk told me of the time he was sitting in a room with several elders and

everyone was communicating telepathically. No words were being spoken

aloud. A young boy came into the room and sat down. He sat there for

about five minutes, saying nothing, when he finally got up disgusted and

left the room saying, “What’s the matter with you people? Everyone sitting

around here saying nothing!” However, they were “talking.”

Ralph Castro, a Kaibab Paiute, could never figure out how his grand-

father communicated with his San Juan relatives, who lived west of Bitter

Springs near a “crossroad out in the middle of nowhere...I could never

figure out how my grandfather communicated with them. There’s no

phone out there, he doesn’t know how to write, but he would go out there,

and they would be there waiting.”110 Although not common, one does find

accounts of shamans communicating through mental telepathy.111

My view is simply this—the public has been misled by a false assump-

tion that turned into a persistently held superstition, a taboo, whereby

medicine powers are reduced to mere trickery. Those who have done field

research among shamans know that medicine powers are efficacious.

Common to all who practice such powers is the understanding that there

is a science behind it and an art to it. In the next chapter I’ll begin with

what is required of those who want to utilize such powers.


Chapter 3

The Heart of the Matter

Some people are praying for peace. Peace comes from

within you. You have to want peace, peace and love.

You can have peace within yourself, but you can’t

pray for peace for everybody. You cannot heal the

whole earth because we have to heal ourselves first

before we can heal anything else.

— Victoria Chipps, Lakota Elder1

Two Ways of Being Human

Back in the winter of 1940 Yale anthropologist Leo Simmons boarded

a train in New Haven, and slowly journeyed across the country to the

small village of Oraibi, Arizona, atop a mesa on the Hopi reservation. In

those days the Hopi were extremely isolated from our industrialized world.

The purpose of his trip was to finish up work on his field notes of two

years with his Hopi assistant, Don C. Talayesva, whose Hopi name was

Sun Chief. Prof. Simmons remained as a guest for seventeen days in Sun

Chief’s home immersed “in intensive interviewing, checking information

gathered earlier, having him repeat many of the major experiences of his

life, and filling in gaps in the accounts.”2

One of the major experiences of his life covered during these inter-

views was the time Sun Chief had spent in boarding school. At the age of

nine, in 1899, he had decided to attend the white man’s boarding school

far from home and relatives. It was not only his choice to go, but also his

Hopi-given right at that age to make such decisions for himself. Thus

he left Oraibi, only to return during summers when school was closed.

However, by his third year there, he began to get bored with school, and

his attention turned increasingly towards the summer Kachina dances

he was beginning to participate in back home. By February that year

his spirits were uplifted a bit when they finally promoted him to the first

grade. However, of the following summer he tells Simmons:

On June the fourteenth [1902] my father came for me and we

returned home, riding burros and bringing presents of calico,

lamps, shovels, axes, and other tools. It was a joy to get home

again, to see all my folks, and to tell about my experiences at

school. I had learned many English words and could recite part

of the Ten Commandments. I knew how to sleep on a bed, pray to

Jesus, comb my hair, eat with a knife and fork, and use a toilet. I

had learned that the world is round instead of flat, that it is inde-

cent to go naked in the presence of girls, and to eat the testes of

sheep or goats. I had also learned that a person thinks with his

head instead of his heart.3

Fully understanding the distinction between thinking with the head

instead of thinking with the heart is crucial to any understanding of medi-

cine powers. Sun Chief is actually referring here to two very different modes

of consciousness, which he expresses as modes of thinking. However, he is

not talking about a philosophic difference in points of view, but a different

mode of being. Furthermore, each mode is simple to detect. Thoughts

and words that arise between the ears are head mode, while thoughts

that arise from the heart area, are heart mode. Implicitly included in this

observation are two modes of speaking as well—speaking from one’s heart

or speaking from one’s head. Also implied in his statement is the under-

standing that the Hopis are raised to think from their heart, otherwise

this understanding would not have come to him at such a late age.

The essential difference between these two modes is also simple, but

critical. Words that arise from the heart are accompanied by conscious-

ness, a power, while words from the head are not. In prayer “words in

themselves are experienced in an immediate manner as units of power.”4

Another way to say this is that heart mode words are objects, while head

mode words are not. To be effective prayers must be imbued with conscious-

ness. Such prayers manifest as an observation on reality and therefore act

as a force at the quantum level of reality. The acquisition of a medicine

power normally comes with a series of songs as well as a ceremony. These

songs are a form of prayer designed to call spirits to the shaman. The

ceremony is the ritual context in which the songs are to be sung.


Whereas we have come to think of songs as a form of entertainment or

relief from our daily routine, the American Indians used songs primarily

for power. Frances Densmore concluded from her long study of American

Indian music that the chief function of their songs was for “communication

with the supernatural…A fact to be constantly borne in mind concerning

Indian music is that it had a purpose. Songs in the old days were believed

to come from a supernatural source and their singing was connected with

the exercise of supernatural power.”5 By 1936 it was known that

on the whole, song-making is indulged in by all and sundry, hence

is likely to vary in interest and quality. In many cases it seems as

if the real value of the song lies not so much in its melodic beauty

as in the imagery of its words, or their supposed curative or magic

potence. Rhythm is more important than melody because songs

are sung, not so much contemplatively, but for rituals and dances,

with the accompaniment of rattles, drums, or other percussion

instruments. A song with stirring rhythms, regardless of melody,

immediately arouses response.6

We now understand that this aroused response often resulted in

trance-induction, in addition to the heightened bodily activity through

dancing and singing. That is, their ceremonial songs serve to help induce

the SSC as well as make contact with spirits. When I would hear Wallace

Black Elk quietly singing Lakota songs to himself on our long drives

together, I knew him to be praying rather than entertaining himself.

We do know that the source of power songs comes primarily from vision

quests or dreams.7 Songs are always there in the spirit world, waiting to

be given to the seeker. Furthermore, an interesting consistent charac-

teristic of receiving a song is that it is first heard faintly at a far away

distance and gradually becomes louder and closer.8 This transition is

most likely caused by a corresponding transition in the state of conscious-

ness of the person hearing the song. Once it is understood that songs are

spirit-given, the ethnomusicologist is then faced with even deeper ques-

tions concerning the supernatural. For instance, “How indeed can we

account for the fact that all medicine bundles of one type, e.g., Medicine

Pipe, have the same songs, although each medicine man seems to have

learned them in his own separate visions?”9 This is another example that

supports the notion that power songs are never lost simply because they

last forever in the spirit world.

That human beings are capable of two distinct modes of thought is

actually known to science. For example, psychologist Abraham Maslow

did extensive studies on how an experience of ecstasy reshapes the human

personality. Neuroscientists have dealt with it as well. One example is the

theory of neuronal group selection (TNGS), which first appeared in 1985.

TNGS is sometimes referred to as “Neural Darwinism.” This theory postu-

lates that each individual brain operates by a process of “somatic selec-

tion” (feelings) that can result in actual pattern recognition and percep-

tual categorization as well as operate by a set of logical rules. So the

TNGS (DNA-encoded) form of thought is based primarily on one’s feelings,

our sensory perception of external reality. Furthermore, this “somatic

selection” or feeling mode is more powerful than our later acquired rules

of logic (head mode) in the generative sense of the brain as it gives rise

to language, thinking in metaphorical terms, etc.10 That is to say, this

genetic-encoded mode of thinking is more powerful than the acquired

cultural mode. This view aligns with the American Indian understanding

that prayers from the heart are more powerful than prayers from the head.

I will henceforth refer to these two distinct modes of thinking simply as

the head (thought/learned) mode as opposed to the heart (feeling/innate)

mode of human operation.

Another example is given by Nobel Laureate Gerald Edelman, a neuro-

physiologist, who has reported that there “appear to be only two deeply

fundamental ways of patterning thought.”11 There is a genetically encoded

form of thought, present at birth, and then there is a rules of logic form of

thought, what we call rational thought, subsequently acquired through

education. These are two very different operational modes through which

human beings are able to view and deal with external reality. Ken Wilber

prefers to call them our “prerational” and “transrational” modes of oper-

ation, and has covered this subject in great detail. He states, “I have

become more convinced than ever that this [two-mode] understanding

is absolutely crucial for grasping the nature of higher (or deeper) or truly

spiritual states of consciousness.”12 What Sun Chief called “thinking from

the heart” constitutes a state of being that allows access to Wilber’s “spiri-

tual states of consciousness,” namely the SSC. A human in the SSC is

using the prerational thought mode. Not only did the American Indians

know of this human ability, they were highly skilled at accessing the SSC


via numerous trance-induction techniques. In fact, accessing the super-

natural realm was known throughout North America. Åke Hultkrantz,

perhaps the foremost scholar of American Indian religions, has recog-

nized this “basic dichotomy between two levels of existence, one ordinary

or ‘natural,’ the other extraordinary or ‘supernatural’” that is found in all

Indian cultures.13

The genetic mode of thought, given at birth, is essentially our default

mode. We are born operating on heart mode. Being the default mode it

would seem probable that there also exists an innate (genetic) drive to

access it. There is indeed knowledge of such a drive to access the core of

our being. Aristotle had a word for it, now long forgotten. He called it entel-

echy, meaning a vital force that moves one’s being toward self-fulfillment.

In shamanism this pull manifests as the well-known “shamanic call’ by

which shamans are forced to undertake the role of shamanism. Because

it is a drive to seek the deepest aspect of our being, we often recognize it

as a spiritual thirst that arises from within our being. One author wrote of

this drive as “the God gene.”14 As philosopher Houston Smith so delicately

put it, “We seem to have an innate need to experience and celebrate the

spiritual dimensions of life.” From the Christian theologian Emil Brunner

we hear essentially the same thing—that “God created man in such a way

that in this very creation man is summoned to receive the Word actively.”

For the American Indians this “actively” takes the form of vision questing

in isolation for medicine powers where “even man himself may become

mysterious [holy] by fasting, prayer, and vision.”15

Medicine people respond to this inner drive throughout their entire

lives through participation in sacred ceremonies. It is their method of

education, whereby different forms of vision questing form the core of

their knowledge. Many Indian cultures use vision questing as a means of

acquiring medicine powers. In those cultures you don’t go on merely one

vision quest, you spend your entire life vision questing. When such cere-

monies are fully practiced, thinking from the heart becomes a way of life.

From the onset we have looked at American Indians as simply a race

of people who lived differently than we live. Historically they were seen as

“uncivilized” and lived like “savages,” which gave rise to the “pre-conceived

notions of white people that an Indian is educated only if he has adopted

the white man’s concept of a high standard of living and civilization.”16

More often than not they were also seen as the enemy. Certainly during

colonial times there was a lot of social pressure among the colonists not to

socialize with them. Thus there was little psychological insight into how

differently they lived their lives. I believe the major difference between

western cultures and the traditional American Indian way of life lies in

their mode of conscious operation. Indians are quick to point out that

their cultures are “a way of being,” where the emphasis is on being in the

heart mode. This results in their habits of thought being totally unlike

ours.17 They definitely march to a very different drummer. Their thinking

process is based more on intuition and feelings as opposed to learned

concepts. For example, Count Frontenac once asked an Ottawa chief what

he thought brandy was made of. The chief replied, “It must be made of

hearts and tongues. For, when I have drunken plenty of it, my heart is

a thousand strong, and I can talk, too, with astonishing freedom and

rapidity.”18 They also view external reality in terms of processes rather

than solid objects. These different bases for thinking, heart versus head,

beget very different points of view regarding reality.

It is common knowledge that our head mode view of reality is simply

based on concepts we learn to carry in our head through child rearing and

education. The collective view of any culture is known as their worldview.

Naturally worldviews differ greatly from culture to culture simply because

all concepts are arbitrary and new concepts are constantly emerging rela-

tive to the times. We invented cars, space travel, land deeds, computers,

and other such concepts foreign to Indians that go to form the worldview

held by industrial nations. As new discoveries are made, new laws passed,

and new products produced, our composite view of reality changes. All of

this, of course, is accompanied by changes in our behavior. For example,

children these days play outdoors much less because of computer games,

television, and the Internet. These head-based behaviors tend to change

much more rapidly in industrialized cultures because the content of the

culture is rapidly changing. However, in Indian cultures, where life was

based on hunting and gathering, all the while using the heart mode of

thinking, there was very little change over time in their behavior.

I suspect every American Indian culture was able to make a clear

distinction between the “civilized” or “educated” way of viewing the world

and their own way of viewing it. Again, they are quick to point out that

“Indian is a way of being” and not a particular philosophical point of view.

We are not talking here about their cultural habits, but rather their mode

of conscious operation that underlies their lifestyle. This is an impor-

tant distinction. Even though there are hundreds of linguistically distinct


Indian cultures, they all march to the same drummer, namely the heart

mode. Their approach to reality is so similar across the board (respect

for nature, very religious, etc.) that I take this to be a clear indication

that we are dealing with a deeply rooted, genetic-based human behavior

here rather than culturally learned behavior. This “thinking from the

heart” behavior transcends cultural boundaries for the simple reason it is

programmed into everyone’s DNA. Because we were born into this mode

of thought, young children worldwide all exhibit the same characteristics,

such as being humble, innocent, trusting, loving, and, most importantly,

being naturally happy all the time. They all march to the same drummer,

the same inner beat—their heart mode. Indian adults were brought up to

maintain this “heart of a child.” They recognized it as a feeling in their

being. For example, the word for “happy” among the Zuni is a phrase,

“your heart makes a tinkling sound.”19

As pointed out, the heart mode is the mode of operation we are born

with. It acts as our primary “instruction manual,” and is basically how

human beings were designed to behave. It is also a more simplified mode

of operation than our rather complex head mode, which often gives you

a headache if used too much. In heart mode, a person is literally forced

to feel. You have no other option. The head mode, along with its unique

“logic” (a created instruction manual), develops as an overlay later on

through our efforts to “train” or “educate” a child. In fact, from an Indian

point of view, we are a bit over zealous with regard to child training. For

certain we are seen as being compulsive at conditioning our children to act

like adults, beginning by the time they can walk. Parents are constantly

telling children to “be quiet” or “sit still.” No such interest is ever seen in

Indian communities, and, consequently, everyone “knows” that Indian

kids are much more unruly. Even at their funerals Indian children are

given free rein to run about and be noisy. Indian parents have a much

more pragmatic attitude—children will learn to behave like adults when it

is time for them to be adults. Basically, you will receive adult status when

you begin to act like an adult. In the meantime one need not be concerned

about their lack of adult behavior. Naturally, this very lack of training

contributes to their children’s ability to remain in their original “heart of a

child” state throughout their development into adulthood. That is, there is

no conditioning to remove them from the heart mode of operation.

Read the early historical writings on traditional American Indians

cultures, and you will repeatedly read statements like, “Both the savage

and the child are one in thought.”20 George Bird Grinnell, a naturalist who

founded the Audubon Society, spent a lifetime around traditional Indian

encampments during the latter part of the 19th century. After fifty years

his foremost observation on “Indian character” was “the Indian has the

mind of a child in the body of an adult.”21 We equate “rational thought”

with being both civilized and mature. Their lack of rational thought we saw

as not only a disadvantage, but as a sign they were lacking in their devel-

opment. Just how these two different ways of being beget totally different

experiences of external reality will be a constant theme throughout the

pages to come.

Since we have the largest brain/body ratio on the planet, we are also

thinkers, par excellence. However when it comes to consciousness, things

are not that clear. No one really knows if larger, smarter brains automati-

cally mean more consciousness, and Indians certainly didn’t see that to

be the case.22 They can learn something from a rock. This comes from the

fact that in the heart mode we can attain a trance state of being that gives

access to different forms of knowing. The trance state also renders the

view that everything is interconnected, a fact confirmed by contemporary

quantum mechanics. For example, our view is that reality comes about

by accident, coincidence, and chance, while the Dene, for example, see “a

far more complete and comprehensible reality within a field of causality.”23

The Hidden Conflict

This distinction between two modes of operation is still made by

contemporary medicine people. It is a troublesome affair among contem-

porary American Indians that is rarely discussed. For the general public

this distinction is virtually unknown and so are the long-standing histor-

ical conflicts it created within Indian cultures. These conflicts arose as

Indians began to adopt Christianity and our western lifestyle. During the

19th century this division was dubbed the “progressive Indians” versus

“conservative Indians.” The progressives were those who had adopted a

“civilized” way of life, along with its inherent thinking mode of being. The

conservatives were those who maintained the traditional lifestyle, along

with its inherent heart mode. The government simply referred to them as


“friendlies” versus “hostiles.” These two very different lifestyles have long

been a major source of intra-nation strife that went virtually unnoticed off

the reservations. As the converted Indians rose in numbers, so did their

effort to do away with the “pagan” ways of medicine powers. For instance,

in 1897 both Hopi factions living at Oraibi, Arizona, performed their

winter solstice ceremony. The friendlies “asked in a most urgent manner

for the intervention of the missionary and of the government agent” to stop

the conservatives from performing their ceremony.24 For years thereafter,

the friendlies continued to undermine, in many devious ways, the efforts

of the hostiles to perform their ceremonies. When their continual harass-

ment failed, finally, on September 7, 1906, the friendlies resorted literally

to driving the hostiles out of Oraibi.25 “Everyone known as a hostile was

evicted. They dragged them by the hair through the dust of the streets to

the edge of the village.”26 Some were beaten, others knocked unconscious,

all under a deluge of taunting by onlooking friendlies. They were “driven

like sheep” from the village, forced to leave their belongings behind, even

their shoes. Their homes were then looted, and their horses were turned

loose in their fields, devouring their winter harvest. The hostiles moved to

the third mesa where they founded Hotevilla. “During the first hard winter

after the 1906 Split many folks at Hotevilla lived in caves and rock shel-

ters and were fed by relatives who had stayed at Oraibi.”27

No nation escaped this internal conflict, which served to tear families

apart. So long has it been a habit on reservations that I have observed

it among the contemporary Lakota. For example, medicine people are

constantly bypassed for receiving government housing. The traditional

Lakota medicine people follow “the Good Red Road,” which again refers

to a way of being. These are families in which Lakota is the first language

learned by the children, and where the adults continue to practice their

traditional ceremonies such as the sweat lodge, vision quest, and Sun

Dance ceremonies. As might be expected, traditional Lakotas are often

resentful toward their fellow tribal members who do not follow a tradi-

tional way of life. They call them “apples,” meaning they are red on the

surface, but white to the core. Furthermore, “apples” are seen as being

educated to think from the head, and for that reason are not trusted by

traditional medicine people. For our purposes, it is important to keep this

distinction clear because medicine powers require the use of the heart

mode. When Godfrey Chips received his medicine powers at the age of

thirteen, the first thing his father did was to obtain permission from the

Tribal Council to take Godfrey out of school, which they granted. That is,

medicine people never trusted our education, because it taught their chil-

dren to think from their head instead of their heart. In so doing, we were

robbing their children of their ability to access readily medicine powers.

The use and control of medicine powers is what makes every Indian

culture so very different from our own. Although such powers contra-

dict our worldview, they are found in every Indian culture. Consequently,

throughout time medicine powers formed the very heart and core of every

Indian nation. My view is that nothing touched their daily behavior and

activities more so than medicine powers—a point of view not held by those

who see such powers as mere superstition. We do know that the supernat-

ural was a matter of immense personal importance.28 I doubt there ever

was an Indian nation that did not have a strong belief in spirits. On the

other hand, there is plenty of evidence that their loss of medicine powers

was due to such activities as military conquests, missionaries, boarding

schools, diseases, and their being placed on reservations. The literature

is replete with such accounts. However, what is blatantly missing is any

analysis of the role that non-traditional Indians played in the eradication

of their own medicine traditions. During the 19th century it was common

for the reservation missionary to have converts bring in sacred object to be

burned in a bonfire. By the end of the century, when most Indians were on

reservations, it was the duty of the Indians who were reservation police to

stamp out any traditional medicine activities. Wallace Black Elk recalled

the times they would have to sneak off to perform a sweat lodge ceremony.

Rather than construct a traditional willow-framed lodge, they would dig

a hole into the side of a hill. They would pile up the earth, taken from the

hole, into little mounds spread about an open field to make it appear as

an area in which gophers lived. They would use non-smoking wood to heat

their stones. Everything had to be done with great stealth lest their own

people discover them. This led Wallace to claim, as have other medicine

people I have met, that they have the hardest time from their own people.

Consequently, I believe that the American Indians themselves played a

significant role in the extinction of medicine powers among their own

people, and quite possibly the main role during the last century.


Getting Educated

During our first few months on earth we know virtually nothing—we

can’t understand anything we hear, we have very little motor control, and

we recognize little that we see. We come out of the womb operating on the

only thing we have to go by, namely our feelings. Newborns are basically

feeling beings. They do exactly as they feel. When they feel tired, they

sleep. It doesn’t matter to them what time it is. When they feel hungry,

they express discomfort and are given food. And, given caring parents,

they survive amazingly well utilizing this feeling mode of operation.

However, it is here that we parted ways with all American Indian cultures.

It became the notion of western civilization to train their children not only

to utilize the head mode, but to also make it the primary mode of thinking.

Consequently, traditional American Indian “education” is nothing like our

notion of the term. As mentioned, they have always been aware of our

schooling methods. On July 3, 1744 the Governor of Pennsylvania and

Commissioners from Virginia and Maryland were meeting in the court-

house at Lancaster, Pennsylvania, with delegates from the Six Nations of

the Iroquois Confederacy. The main purpose of the meeting was to implore

the Iroquois Confederacy to stop the Canadian French from crossing their

lands to attack the English settlers in Virginia and Maryland. There

were also concerns that the current translator was getting old, and that

new translators needed to be trained. To that end the Commissioners of

Virginia made an offer to the delegates as follows:

Brethern. Our Grand Conrad Wieser [present interpreter], when

he is dead, will go to the other world as our fathers have done; our

children will then want such a friend to go between them and your

children, to reconcile any differences that may happen to arise

between them, one that like him may have the ears and tongues

[English] of our children.

The way to have such a friend is to send three or four of your

boys to Virginia, where we have a fine house for them to live in, and

a man on purpose to teach the children of our friends, the religion,

language, and customs of the white people. To this place we kindly

invite you to send some of your children, and we promise you, they

shall have the same care taken of them, and be instructed in the

same manner as our children; and be returned to you again when

you please; and to confirm this we give you this string of wampum.

(Which was received with the usual ceremony.)29

The Six Nations delegates then left the meeting to spend the evening

considering the offer. The following day, July 4th, Canassatego, an

Onondaga, gave their reply:

Brother Assaragoa,—You told us likewise that you had a great

house [College of William and Mary] provided for the education of

youth, and that there were several white people and Indian chil-

dren there to learn languages and to write and read, and invited

us to send some of our children amongst you. We must let you

know we love our children too well to send them so great a way,

and the Indians are not inclined to give their children for learning;

we allow it to be good, and we thank you for your invitation, but

your customs differing from ours you will be so good as to excuse

us. We hope Tarachwagon (Connard Wieser, the interpreter) will

be preserved by the Good Spirit to a good old age; when he is gone

under ground it will be then time enough to look out for another;

and no doubt but among so many thousands as there are in the

world, one such man may be found, who will serve both parties

with the same fidelity as Tarachwagon does; while he lives there is

no room to complain. In token of our thankfulness for your invita-

tion we give you this string of wampum. (Which was received with

the usual ceremony.)30

No doubt the Six Nations delegates knew that our form of education

did not take into account the development of human sensory skills—

the feeling aspects of a human being. Coincidently, Canassatego’s name

translates as “Upsetting a house placed in order,”31 and, undoubtedly,

his reply did upset their notion of “education.” As a leading psychologist

has pointed out, the goal of any form of education should be to help a

person “to become the best he is capable of becoming, to become actu-

ally, what he deeply is potentially.”32 The American Indians approach to

education entailed developing their genetic-given abilities to sense reality

(via feelings) instead of training one’s mind to a particular view of reality.

Consequently, “the Indians had an education and training which was


adequate and ideal for a harmonious life under their environmental condi-

tions.”33 We are fundamentally feeling beings, and that is what they set

out to develop to the fullest potential. For example, when interacting with

you Indians are much more likely to check out your “vibe” (your “body

language”—facial gestures, body positions, speech intonations, eye move-

ments, etc.), than pay attention to the content of what you are saying. So

it is that we have come to trust our thoughts, our explanations for things,

while traditional medicine people are much more apt to trust their sense

of feeling. In so doing, we have basically abandoned our default mode of

operating in this world.

There is a huge difference between responding to your feelings as

opposed to your mind. For example, Chief Wolf, a Wallawalla who lived

at Fishhook Bay, Washington, was one of the richest Indians in America

around 1890, estimated to be worth over $500,000 at that time. “Though

he has a comfortable house, he never sleeps there, but goes to the tepee,

no matter how inclement the weather.”34 In another account from around

1910 an equally wealthy Osage man chose always to sleep on the porch

of a new home they insisted he build. So Indians will usually opt for their

feelings over being socially correct, at least in regard to being “civilized.”

Their form of education also teaches them to be very perceptive of

everything that is going on around them. For example, an account from

the Pit River nation attests to this.

Animals are not imbeciles. There is in the life of wild things

in a wild setting a multitude of interactions to which the mind of

civilized man is not attuned because it is of necessity oriented to

another aspect of mental energy, namely the rational. To under-

stand the psychology of the Pit River people, it is necessary to visu-

alize their extremely intimate contact with the trees, the rocks,

the weather and the delicate changes in the atmosphere, with

the shape of every natural object, and, of course, with the habits

not only of every species of animal but of many individuals. It is

almost impossible for a civilized man to form any conception of the

degree of intimacy with nature this represents. No civilized man

would ever have the patience and energy to loaf in a wild place long

enough to catch this subtle rhythm of interactions.35

As adults we end up spending most of our time thinking about our

daily activities. We go through our day with a conversation constantly

streaming between our ears, even to the point that we sometimes talk

out loud to ourselves. In fact, it has become such a strong habit that it is

nearly impossible to imagine a state of being in which thinking doesn’t

happen. It is only now and then that we “lose control” to overwhelming

feelings, and revert to our default heart mode. On the other hand, it is well

understood that “primitive society left out almost entirely the development

of the habit of thinking.”36 Medicine people go about life observing reality

rather than thinking about it. They react to situations in accordance with

their feeling of things. Most importantly, this means that a conscious

awareness replaces thinking. I will return to this point at the end of this

chapter.

Our head mode view, because it is in a sense imaginary (we make it up),

is also very flexible. That is, human behavior is known to be highly adap-

tive. One’s preferences definitely change over time. They slowly change in

such a way that one’s personal rules and views are constantly changing

throughout life. This often becomes very apparent in meeting old class-

mates at one’s high school class reunion. Indeed, if a profound enough

learning experience comes along in your life, your personal view of reality

can instantly change. This is especially evident under adverse situations

such as wars, concentration camps, famines, etc. For example, paper

money was worthless in Berlin after we bombed it out during World War

II. Instantly, a whole new set of rules for living immediately emerged—the

Berliners readily adapted to bartering and other new means for surviving.

So our head-based view does have a very fluid nature.

I don’t want to leave the impression that we are completely devoid of

the heart mode state of being. After all, it is our default mode and there-

fore hard wired into our body. When it it activated, we tend to see it as a

loss of control and not something to be desired. For example, when you

“fall” in love you tend to abandon rational thought and follow instead your

feelings. You are apt to do things you would not ordinarily do, and your

friends shrug it off as your being bitten by the “love bug.” When we become

“over emotional,” we have usually switched to default mode. When we play

at sports or play a musical instrument, we switch to this feeling mode to

perform at our best. When we are filled with awe at watching a sunset we

are in the feeling mode. When we hug our kids we are in the feeling mode.

So we are not strangers to the heart mode, but it plays a secondary role,


such that we infrequently access it during the course of a day. It is defi-

nitely not our normal mode of operation.

There is also an inherent wisdom in this heart mode of being. Those

who live life from the heart mode automatically become wiser with age.

In this sense their way of life is a form of education. The reason for this

is that in the heart mode one becomes more conscious over time since

conscious awareness replaces thinking. Growing awareness is an ongoing

form of education in Indian cultures. As anthropologist Ruth Bunzel long

ago pointed out in her research on the Zuni, “the head is [seen as] the seat

of skill and intelligence, but the heart is [seen as] the seat of emotions

and profound thought.”37 So from their perspective “education” is more a

matter of learning to get in touch within, and “wisdom” is what comes from

doing so. Becoming wise is simply learning to listen to what your heart

has to teach you. Given this view, you can readily understand why the

concept of ever “graduating” from the educational process is totally absent

among medicine people. You can graduate from your shamanic training

period, but you never graduate from learning the art of shamanism. Their

mapping of the spirit realms knows no end. Their knowledge of the ways

of the Creator grows over time. That’s why they actually do become wiser

with age. They simply never “graduate” from becoming more aware. It

was therefore no accident that their elders were much respected for their

wisdom.

Perhaps most importantly, the experience of life via the heart mode is

such that its nature is to render satisfaction in one’s life. It is our mind,

our head mode, which gives rise to all of our worries, problems, and head-

aches. So there is a very pragmatic reason why they followed their form

of education. It resulted in a relatively stress-free life. Going through life

trusting your feelings as opposed to what your head is telling you to do is

a very different way of approaching reality than we utilize.

Forked Tongues and the Indian “Drug” War

As pointed out, the heart mode has its own set of rules, a DNA-encoded

logic that remains the same from human being to human being. One

example is the fact that words spoken from one’s heart are true. On the

other hand, words spoken from the head mode cannot be trusted. That is,

not telling the truth is something we learn, not an ability that we are born

with. As everyone knows it is very difficult to get a young child to lie. Much

to our embarrassment, truths often come out of their innocent mouth that

you would rather have kept a family secret.

It is nearly impossible to tell a lie when operating in heart mode. Yet

changing our “truth” on Indian treaties has been one of the most trouble-

some problems they have had to deal with throughout history. No sooner

would the ink dry on a treaty than we would change our minds once

again. Treaty-making was ended by Congress in 1871, and by then we

had signed 374 treaties with the American Indians.38 As Red Dog, a Sioux,

put it to an 1876 Commission, “I am glad to see you, you are our friends,

but I hear that you have come to move us. Tell your people that since the

Great Father promised that we should never be removed we have been

moved five times. I think you had better put the Indians on wheels and

you can run them about wherever you wish.”39 Sitting Bull was more to

the point when he said, “What treaty that the whites have kept has the

red man broken? Not one. What treaty that the whites ever made with us

red men have they kept? Not one.”40 This lack of credibility on our part

gave rise to Indian expressions like “two-faced” and “forked-tongue.” They

simply could not fathom rules of behavior that would allow anyone to

make a formal pledge and then break it. Truthfulness was ingrained into

their being via training to be in the heart mode, to put their heart into

what is being said.41 Speaking the truth was also a necessary quality to

activate their medicine powers. “A Zuni must speak with one tongue in

order to have his prayers received by the gods” reported anthropologist

Matilda Stevenson in 1904. Speaking with “one tongue” begot them medi-

cine powers. Our inability to speak the truth begot their deep mistrust,

as well as their notions that we were a bit insane and certainly a bunch

of liars. Of course, we called this insanity “rationalization.” That is, we

always came up with good rational reasons for changing our mind.

Speaking the truth played a central role in their daily life. You were

expected to “walk your talk.” Your words were to come from your heart

and were to remain true. Living in small social units where everyone

depended on each other for survival, it was extremely important to speak

the truth. Their children were not taught to lie or be deceitful with their

words. It follows naturally that this social rule extended to meetings

between different groups. Not to be truthful with your words was seen as

a cowardly act. This rule was so imbedded that they even had ceremonies

for making sure you would speak the truth. That is, there were various


prayer rituals that took place to evoke everyone’s heart mode. Such prayer

rituals were a prelude to any meeting where men had gathered to discuss

important matters, where “important” translates to “holy.” As we know, all

holy undertakings begin with some form of praying.

Perhaps the most familiar form prayers took was the smoking of a

sacred pipe, often called a “peace pipe” in the early historical records.

Usually different pipes were used for different occasions, such as council

meetings, war parties, hunting parties, etc. The common ingredient in

them was tobacco. These pipes were seen as holy instruments and the

handling of them was a form of prayer. As Chased By Bears reported to

anthropologist Frances Densmore in 1911, “Before talking of holy things

we prepare ourselves by offerings. If only two are to talk together, one will

fill his pipe and hand it to the other, who will light it and offer it to the

sky and the earth. Then they will smoke together, and after smoking they

will be ready to talk of holy things.”42 This tobacco-smoking ceremony

was designed to purify one’s mind of any tendency to lie by invoking one’s

heart mode, where your thinking became clear and focused. This partic-

ular ability of the tobacco plant was known throughout North America to

such an extent that tobacco is “the supernatural plant par excellence of

the American Indians.”43 So important was its use that even non-agricul-

tural Indian nations grew it.

When conflict arose, the “truth” of any matter was debated until it was

decided who was correct. It was never a matter of compromise with them.

In fact, I doubt this term even exists in most Indian languages since the

concept is virtually absent in practice. Our reasoning is that we need to be

“fair” about controversial matters, which leads to compromising. Thus our

standard solution is to compromise the truth in order to appease everyone

involved. Indians, on the other hand, see that as merely watering down

the truth of the matter. That is one reason why treaty negotiations with

them were so very difficult. They were not open to “give and take” compro-

mising. Our solution to this impasse was to get any consenting adults to

sign a treaty, regardless of the fact that they were often not official spokes-

persons for their nation.

Having mentioned sacred pipes in the context of telling the truth, I

want to make a side note here of their use. These pipes were used not

only for ensuring truth in speaking, but for many other purposes as well.

They were sacred objects to be found in use during warfare, healing,

and weather control, to name but a few uses. Because medicine power

is attributed to these pipes, many people have erroneously assumed that

their pipe-smoking mixtures must include a psychoactive plant. This

type of speculation comes from those looking for a rational explanation

for things—“If it’s a drug, then I can understand why they see and hear

those strange things.” This was absolutely not the case, certainly not in

North America. Historically, not all American Indian cultures used sacred

pipes. However, for those who did, there is no evidence that psychoactive

plants were ever smoked in them. As pointed out (in Chapter 1), there

was very little use of psychoactive plants in all of North America. Those

five percent or less of the Indian population who did use such plants as

Datura wright or possibly Jimson weed (Jamestown weed, nightshade,

etc.—Datura stramonium L.) or peyote (Lophophora williamsii), usually

used them mainly during initiation ceremonies, for the training of youth

in shamanism, or for divination purposes. Rarely does one ever read of

psychoactive plants being used during a medicine power ceremony that

is designed to alter the course of reality, such as a healing ceremony. So

the notion that American Indian shamanism, at least in North America,

has anything to do with induced hallucinations is a total myth. Again,

that is not the case for South America, where psychoactive plants are in

common use by shamans. However, even there, a shaman’s helping spirit

can appear whether the shaman has taken a psychotropic drug or not.

Therefore, the coming and going of a shaman’s helping spirits is in no

way either necessarily connected to or dependent on the shaman’s use of

psychoactive drugs. “Spirits” are not induced hallucinations, albeit early

eminent anthropologists such as Franz Boas would have you believe such

is the case.44

In a bit of twisted irony, the American Indian’s use of peyote was

brought about mainly by government actions. There was a rapid spread of

its use following the Wounded Knee massacre in 1890, although it did not

reach the Montana Cree until 1936.45 Recall that this band of Sioux were

on their way to participate in a Ghost Dance ceremony, when the army

detained and then massacred them. Following this atrocity, the govern-

ment outlawed all Indian religious ceremonies in order to insure ourselves

that large Indian gatherings would not turn into another “Indian uprising.”

Sun Dancing, sweat lodges, vision questing, all traditional ceremonies

were declared illegal. By 1904 the law stated that any person caught prac-

ticing any form of medicine power ceremony “shall be confined in the

Agency guard house for a term not less than ten days, or until such time


as he shall produce satisfactory evidence to the court and approved by the

Agent, that he will forever abandon all practices styled “Indian Offenses”

under this rule.”46 All religious ceremonies were deemed “Indian Offenses”

and all participants were subject to punishment—either by withholding

their food rations for at least fifteen days or up to thirty days in the agency

jail. Thus peyote became their means to spiritual knowledge and under-

standing. As one man put it: “You can use Peyote all your life, but you’ll

never get to the end of what there is to be known from Peyote. Peyote is

always teaching you something new.”47 Once again, a way of life one never

graduates from.

Peyote use originated in Mexico around 2000 years ago, but it was

not until a little more than a century ago that it migrated northward into

Texas and Oklahoma.48 From around 1890 to 1925 it’s use “spread among

the Indians as far north as the Sioux and Chippewa and west to the Ute.”49

Today it is even more widespread. By this time many Indian cultures had

been relocated to “Indian territory” (Oklahoma). In it’s adaptation to our

culture this new religion incorporated many elements of Christianity into

the ceremony, except among the Mescalaro Apaches.50 Therefore peyotism

became one of the few visionary outlets that had not been outlawed by

our government. When you understand that “first and foremost, peyotism

supplies access to supernatural power,”51 then you understand what drove

this very rapid spread of peyote use. Some see it differently. For example,

Snyder suggested that its spread was in “large part an attempt to regain

lost prestige and pride and to obtain benefits for the Indian.”52 I doubt that

was the case as it implies a great deal of thinking going on in their heads.

By the early part of the 20th century some members of Congress

became concerned that this growing peyote use might serve to unite the

various Indian nations, a giving way to the same old lurking fear that

brought them to end forcibly all traditional Indian religious activity. To

their fear-laden minds this growing peyote use brought forth the possi-

bility of renewed hostilities. Fantasizing that another possible uprising

could come about, they set out also to ban its use. Such a bill (H.R. 2614

entitled Peyote) was introduced into Congress in 1918. James Mooney, an

anthropologist for the Smithsonian’s Bureau of American Ethnology, who

had first witnessed a peyote ceremony in 1891, led the support for the

Indian use of peyote during the February hearing on the bill.

An unfortunate and bitter schism developed during the 1918

hearing between the Bureau of American Ethnology and The Bureau

of Indian affairs…After the hearings were over, Mooney went again

to the Kiowa reservation [in Oklahoma], but the commissioner

of Indian affairs requested that the director of the Smithsonian

Institution recall him because he was “interfering” with the admin-

istration of the Bureau of Indian Affairs. Specifically, Mooney had

participated in peyote ceremonies and had consulted with and

encouraged peyotists to incorporate their religion under the laws

of Oklahoma as the Native American Church. To the shame of the

Bureau of American Ethnology and the Smithsonian Institution,

Mooney was recalled and was never again allowed to return to

Oklahoma to continue his study of peyotism.53

The general public knew little of this affair, and, in fact, the first book on

peyote use in America was not published until 1934.54

That Spring the bill passed the House of Representatives, but failed to

pass in the Senate. Following that narrow defeat, by August, Oklahoma

peyotists met in El Reno to establish a peyote church. The articles of

incorporation of the Native American Church were signed on October 10,

1918. Once incorporated, Congress was blocked by the Bill of Rights from

banning peyotism. However, government efforts to ban its use did not

stop there. Subsequently, it became an issue of using an “illegal” drug.

Eventually Congress passed off to the individual states the fight over its

use, where, unfortunately, it still rages today. However, peyote ceremonies

are not shamanic ceremonies per se, and more on this later.

Altered States of Consciousness

With regard to our physical design there is no doubt that human beings

are clearly unique creatures. In combination our special features land us

atop the evolutionary chart. We have a number of physical characteristics

that are either extremely rare or found nowhere else in the realm of nature:

an opposable thumb, making our hand the most manipulative organ in all

of nature; color vision; the ability to see depth; a two-legged, upright walk;

the largest brain-to-body ratio; the ability to speak; and the most sophis-

ticated nervous system. So there is something quite special about human


beings compared to the rest of the animal kingdom. In fact, some see our

physical features as nothing less than miraculous. “If a miracle is defined

as an infinitely improbable phenomenon, then our existence is a miracle,

which no theory, natural or supernatural will ever explain” declared one

contemporary writer.55 However, beyond these physical characteristics, it

is our consciousness, which really sets us apart from all of Darwin’s other

“fittest” (i.e., the most successful creatures at reproduction and survival).

Most importantly, our consciousness is capable of operating in altered

states.

For the most part, laboratory experiments on altered states of

consciousness in humans are not allowed. Richard Alpert (aka Baba Ram

Dass) and Timothy Leary’s early, but short-lived, psilocybin experiments

at Harvard University convinced them that the drug caused you to revert

back to your DNA-based, default mode by canceling out the ability of the

head mode to function in a rational manner. Even more interesting was

their discovery that a person’s experience of reality while on the drug was

directly related to the set (location) and setting (what’s going on) in which

the drug was taken. For example, taken in a cathedral the drug was more

likely to evoke a deeply religious experience than if taken in a shopping

mall. This understanding of altered states is reflected in the way medicine

people prepare for a medicine power ceremony. The set and setting, its

location and their placement of an altar display, are extremely important

to them as well, especially when the instructions for them are spirit-sent.

During the last century, there were many studies on the phenom-

enology of human consciousness. These studies all attested to the human

ability of attaining altered states of consciousness. Approached from

different points of view, many different terms were invented to deal with

what is essentially an ineffable human experience. Early on, Richard

Bucke referred to it as “cosmic consciousness” in his 1901 book so

entitled.56 Evelyn Underhill called it “consciousness of the Absolute.”57

Subsequently, Aldous Huxley referred to it as the “perennial philosophy,”58

R. D. Laing as “transcendental experiences,”59 Raymond Prince as an

experience of “mystical states,”60 P. D. Ouspensky as experiencing “the

miraculous,”61 and Abraham Maslow as “peak” or “core-religious expe-

riences.”62 All of these studies clearly indicated that an altered state

“creates a new mode of perception and feeling which leads to the discovery

of non-rational (but not irrational) forms of logic, which are multi-level/

integrated/simultaneous, not linear/sequential/either-or.”63 In addition,

certain personality characteristics develop from having such experiences.

For example, Maslow states that “peakers” tend to be unselfish, self-confi-

dent, more humble, open to awe, more reverent, less susceptible to fears,

more accepting, etc. This sounds like the descriptions of Indian medicine

people. Most interestingly, the different perception of things one has in an

altered state appears to make more sense. That is to say, the “logic” of the

heart mode just “feels” more correct. You intuitively know it to be true.

Most of these studies were conducted on “normal” people who had

somehow accidentally accessed an altered state of consciousness.

Nevertheless their experiences parallel the experiences of shamans. As

mentioned (in Chapter 1), Mircea Eliade first defined shamanism as “tech-

niques of ecstasy.” For Eliade, shamanism was the manifestation of “the

sacred” in a human being. That is, in a trace state a person becomes

“sacred.” We know that shamans are deemed to be sacred or holy by their

own people. Eliade understood that all shamans access a trance state

in their pursuit of medicine powers, albeit via many different methods.

However, he failed to point out that these “techniques” are often spirit-

given to the shaman, and, thus, each “technique” is very unique unto

itself. Each technique involves specific details in regard to the shaman’s

altar display, songs to be sung, and other such instructions necessary

for calling one’s spirit helpers. For example, all shamans have their own

special spirit-calling song(s). So a focus on “techniques,” per se, will lead

one only to a bewildering diversity of ritual forms for trance-induction.

This means it’s not really the technique that counts, but rather the

success of one’s journey to the inward realm of the heart mode using any

trance-induction technique. As Kawbawgam, an Ojibwa who converted to

Catholicism during the latter part of the 19th century, put it, the Creator

“gave the Indian a heart to know the Great Spirit.”

The Power of Breath

A constant theme, found in the many different techniques used to

achieve altered states, is the human breath. This is an indication that

shamanism and breath are closely related. Throughout North America the

notion of breath as a manifestation of life is a nearly universal concept.64

In addition there are numerous accounts of shamans using their breath

in their exercise of medicine powers. As a power, breath definitely plays


a fundamental role in the use of medicine powers. For instance, John

Honigmann noted among the Kaska that there is an “association between

breath and shamanistic efficacy.”65 Some shamans blow upon the afflicted

areas of the body during a healing, while others would use their breath

to blow away harmful spirits. Shamans also use their breath to suck

diseases from the body, this being one of the most widespread forms of

healing. Breath was also an aspect of trance-induction. As one informant

put it, “When you are about to get into a trance breathe hard, real hard,

don’t hold back; if you do you are liable to faint. Breathe hard from down

here, from your stomach, all out.”66 The relationship between breath,

Great Mystery, and medicine powers is a recurring theme as all three are

interrelated.

As mentioned in the last chapter, it was the Jesuit missionaries

who initially came up with the notion of “Great Spirit” as the name for

the Creator among Indian cultures. They would search out the most

powerful helping spirit known to a culture, and dub that one the “Great

Spirit.” Most of the medicine people, however, opted for the phrase “Great

Mystery,” which is best conceived of “as the mystical union of a number of

different [spirit] entities” rather than what the missionaries had in mind.67

One’s breath was seen as a mystical connection to the Great Mystery. For

example, Hopi wisdom states that it is possible to access the mystery of

the Creator only “to the extent that they align their breath with the cosmic

breath that is ‘very something.’” Author Jamake Highwater expressed this

idea when he wrote, “Every adult Indian tends to agree that the basis of

success in life is much dependent upon not only one’s own efforts, but also

[upon] the symbiotic relationship with forces that put the individual and

the tribe in touch with the ‘mighty something.’”68 This “getting in touch”

ability is a direct result of their living life from the heart mode. Again,

this attention to being in one’s heart mode is the fundamental difference

between the traditional American Indians and our way of life.

Pushed even a bit deeper, the Hopi have several options when asked to

translate “Creator” into Hopi. One option is Hikwsi , which means “Giver

of the Breath of Life.” In their view it is the Creator who is constantly

driving the breath, not one’s diaphragm. That means one’s breath is a

constant direct connection to the Creator. Many other American Indian

cultures are known to have knowledge of this breath-Creator connec-

tion. For example, among the Taskigi division of the Creek Nation the

Creator was known as Hisákidamissi, which freely translates as “Master

of Breath.”69 Among the Zuni, often acclaimed to be the most “religious”

division of the Pueblo nations,70 the word for Creator is Awonawilona—

“the symbol and initiator of life, and life itself, pervading all space,”

“delineator of the span of life,” and “the supreme bisexual power, who

is the breath of life and life itself.”71 It was “with the breath from his

heart” that Awonawilona made all of creation.72 The Zuni also see one’s

breath directly connected to the Creator where their word for “breath”

(piannanne) also translates as “life.”73 Among the Seminole in Florida the

Creator is Fisahki komihci, translated as either “breath maker” or “life

maker.” Also within the Seminole language there is only one term for both

“breathing” and “living, alive”—fisahki ki. The White Mountain Apaches

in the southwest also have the concept that breath and life are the same

things bestowed by the Creator. Among the Klamath of southern Oregon

the word hokis means soul, breath, and life, while among the Luiseño of

southern California the word piuts simultaneously means soul, breath,

and life.74 So there is a very widespread understanding throughout North

America that breath, life, the Creator, and your heart mode are all very

much intertwined. Breath not only sustains our being, it also contains an

inherent power as well due to it’s direct connection to the Creator.

One common way this interconnection is expressed is by the attention

Indians give to nasal breathing.

The Indian believes absolutely in nasal breathing. Again and

again I have seen the Indian mother, as soon as her child was

born, watch it to see if it breathed properly. If not, she would at

once pinch the child’s lips together and keep them pinched until

the breath was taken in and exhaled easily and naturally through

the nostrils. If this did not answer, I have watched her as she took

a strip of buckskin and tied it as a bandage below the chin and

over the crown of the head, forcing the jaws together, and then

with another bandage of buckskin she covered the lips of the little

one. Thus the habit of nasal breathing was formed immediately

[when] the child saw the light, and it knew no other method.75

As mentioned Carlos Troyer noted that the Zuni practiced taking deep,

slow, long breaths, which allowed them to hold their breath “from three

to five minutes without straining or inconvenience.”76 Attention to nasal


breathing is known to most of us as an ancient yoga or meditation tech-

nique for energizing the body. For the American Indians it was a way of

life.

When looking at Indian languages, you will also find that this close

relationship between human breath and the sacred remains a constant

theme. For example, the word for breath in Lakota is ni. From this stem we

get such words as inipi, the “breath of life,” their term for the sweat lodge

purification ceremony, and yuni, the act of making one conscious of some-

thing. It is even associated with the most precious element on the planet,

water, where the term is mni. So an understanding of this sacred connec-

tion between one’s breath, life and power runs very deep among American

Indians wherever the shaman’s breath is viewed as a power. In all fairness

to western civilization, this relationship is something our ancestors were

also well aware of. For example, the word “spirit” comes from the Latin

root spiritus, which means “breath” among other things. Through our

breath we obtain our creative wisdom, our inspiration.

From the Indian perspective your breath is a power because the

Creator drives your breath. Your breath comes and goes via the Creator’s

will, and not via your “autonomic nervous system.” This was particularly

evident in the Zuni studies by Stevenson. “While every Zuni is taught that

in inhaling the sacred breath from his fetishes or in breathing upon the

plumes he offers to the gods he is receiving from Awonawilona the breath

of life or is wafting his own breath prayers to his gods...”77 Here breath is

seen as a power to send forth prayers.

Finally, let me return to the above point that American Indians never

developed the habit of thinking all the time. When your attention is not

focused on thinking it is focused on your surroundings, the immediate

present. This gives Indians a considerable degree of clarity and awareness

of what is going on around them at any moment in time. There are many

examples of this type of alertness and clarity. One interesting such report

comes from the 1830’s.

It is related, in modern times, that a hunter, belonging to

one of the western tribes, on his return home to his hut one day,

discovered that his venison, which had been hung up to dry, had

been stolen. After taking observations upon the spot, he set off in

pursuit of the thief, whom he tracked through the woods. Having

gone a little distance, he met some persons of whom he inquired, if

they had seen a little old white man, with a short gun, accompanied

by a small dog with a short tail? They replied in the affirmative;

and upon the Indian assuring them that the man thus described

had stolen his venison, they desired to be informed how he was

able to give such a minute description of a person he had not seen?

The Indian replied thus:—”the thief I know is a little man, by his

having made a pile of stones to stand upon in order to reach the

venison from the height I hung it, standing on the ground: that he

is an old man I know by his short steps, which I have traced over

the dead leaves in the woods: and that he is a white man I know

by his turning out his toes when he walks, which an Indian never

does. His gun I know to be short, by the mark the muzzle made in

rubbing the bark of the tree on which it leaned [while he stole the

venison]; that his dog is small, I know by his tracks; and that he

has a short tail, I discovered by the mark it made in the dust where

he was sitting at the time his master was taking down the meat.”78

They were very attuned to any signs in nature. They could tell how recent

a track had been made in the dirt and even how long ago a plant had been

picked.79

Not thinking also keeps them from becoming bored, and I want to

give a good example of this. In 1922 pioneer filmmaker Robert J. Flaherty

made the first-ever documentary film, which happened to be on the Inuit

(Eskimo). Today the film is known by the title Nanook of the North. Filmed

under extremely adverse conditions it is still widely regarded as one of the

best documentary films ever made. The film eventually earned Flaherty

the title “father of the documentary.” At one point in this film Nanook is

shown on a hunting trip. He discovers a small hole in the ice used for

breathing by seals. Given the depth of this hole you cannot see the seal

when it comes up for air. Therefore in order to discover when a seal comes

to the hole, Nannok places a small feather or piece of down on a string

across the hole. When the feather moves, he knows a seal has come up

for air.

You see Nanook bent over, standing over this hole with spear raised

as he intently watches the feather. However, seals have many different

breathing holes, and the narrator of the film informs you that he may

Spirit Talkers

stand there for hours on end. Now the point here is, how can one stare

at a small feather for six or more hours and never get bored? I believe the

answer to this lies in the human breath and their habit of not thinking.

After all, if he is not standing there thinking, then the only thing he is

really experiencing is his breath and his surroundings. The implication

here is that experiencing one’s breath can be very fulfilling. Again, the

reason for this is that your breath is a point of contact for a very powerful

inner force. You might even say it is the closest one comes to the Creator.

It should come as no surprise then that Indians see us as being quite

impatient. Our thinking causes us to become quickly bored if we are doing

what is considered as nothing.

American Indian medicine people have the habit of being in the here

and now, what Calvin Martin so eloquently wrote of as “the otherness

of this planet,” where one lives “instead in the still point of time.”80 It is

this attentive consciousness coupled with one’s breath, while in the heart

mode, that sets the stage for the activation of all medicine powers. From

there it is simply a matter of focusing one’s consciousness on a particular

observation that is desired via a ritual process.

Chapter 4 Page 111

Chapter 4

Medicine Ways

As I have said before, of all the created

things or beings of the universe...it is the

two-legged men alone who, if they purify

and humiliate themselves, may become one

with—or may know—Wankan Tanka.

— Nick Black Elk,

Lakota1

Everyone on the Good Red Road

One of the greatest weaknesses in assuming that medicine powers are

based in superstition is that it affords no explanation for the many cross-

cultural similarities we find in the Indian’s use of medicine powers. Given

the way in which languages and cultural traits naturally diversify over

time, one should not expect to find widespread, numerous core similari-

ties between the actions of shamans if it is only a matter of superstition.

On the other hand, if medicine powers are assumed to be real, then one

should expect to find such similarities, which is exactly the case. Again,

it was the Romanian scholar Mircea Eliade who first made it clear, during

the 1930’s, that shamans all over the world have core similarities, his

main one being that they all have techniques for inducing an altered state

of consciousness (SSC), his “techniques of ecstasy.” Therefore I am most

interested in those similarities among shamans that serve to activate the

observer effect. So we need to take a close look at the cross-cultural cere-

monial rules followed by Indian medicine people, beginning with the basic

fact that everyone believed in medicine powers in the first place.

In former times the daily life of the American Indians was, for the most

part, shaped by their belief in medicine powers. Their constant attention

to appeasing the spirit world is what made us see them as either very

religious or completely enslaved by superstitions, the latter view being

held by the missionaries.2 “Superstition, it may be said, is the warp and

woof of Ten’a life,” declared Father Jetté of his wards.3 This view has run


individual medicine ceremonies that are being performed. For example,

“Crow religious organization was diffused among owners of medicine

bundles, informal associations of those possessing the same medicine,

and society members, who had purchased a share in medicines through

adoption.”10 “Diffused” indicates each ceremony had its own particular

organization. When it comes to religion, all the early ethnographies simply

give a detailed description of each different power ceremony the anthro-

pologist was able to observe. Consequently, the word “religion” is simply

a boxed-thought that the American Indians do not neatly fit into. Their

“religion” is a dynamic process that constantly changes as new spirit-

sent ceremonies are added and old ceremonies that no longer work are

discarded. Beyond the ceremonies there are also constant daily religious

actions that cannot be separated from daily life. Consequently, their reli-

gion is better seen as a way of life. In this sense, their religion differs from

individual to individual since each person has their own medicine ways.

Each person has their own actions to be performed to connect to a spirit

power. According to some modern scholars, such as Joseph Campbell,

this is religion in the truest meaning of the origin of the word—re-ligare,

re (again) + ligare (connect) or “to reconnect.” Also their religion is learned

from training (fasting, vision quest, etc.) and experience as opposed to

something written in a book as found in most organized religions.

From the 1890’s we read, “They are very superstitious people and have

signs, charms, and incantations for everything. Magic plays an important

part in every Indian’s everyday life and is interwoven with his doings.”11

The phrase “for everything” means the use of medicine powers was inter-

twined with all their decision-making processes.12 In some way their belief

in medicine powers touched nearly everything they did. What anthropolo-

gist Arthur Parker, himself a Seneca, reported for his own people is true

across the board: “Religion played a vital part in the life of the Seneca

people. It might be concluded that religion pervaded everything and regu-

lated all the habits of the people, for most of their customs and their daily

behavior were controlled by religious beliefs.”13 Other expressions of this

same fact include a 1903 report stating, “The Hopi people are the most

religious nation known. From four to sixteen days of every month are

employed by one society or another in the performance of secret religious

rites, or in public ceremonies, which, for want of a better name, the whites

call dances.”14 For their neighbors, the Apache, religious behavior also

prevailed. “The religious sentiment of the Apache Indian is the underlying

throughout Indian history where one constantly finds reports of how

their religion touched nearly every activity in their daily life,4 where the

dominant theme of their religious activities was the pursuit of medicine

powers.5 This is a well-known fact to contemporary Indians. As a Yurok

elder recently put it, “For old-time Indians, everything used to be religion.”6

The foremost historian of the American Indians during the mid-19th

century was Henry Rowe Schoolcraft. Unlike many historians, his writ-

ings were made from direct observations, and he traveled extensively

among many different nations. He wrote:

The most powerful source of influence, with the Red man, is

his religion. Here is the true groundwork of his hopes and his

fears, and, it is believed, the fruitful source of his opinions and

actions. It supplies the system of thought by which he lives and

dies, and it constitutes, indeed, the basis of Indian character…

The Indian religion is a peculiar compound of rites, and doctrines,

and observations, which are early taught the children by precept

and example. In this respect, every bark-built village is a temple,

and every forest a school. It would surprise any person to become

acquainted with the variety and extent to which an Indian is influ-

enced by his religious views and superstitions. He takes no impor-

tant step without reference to it. It is his guiding motive in peace

and in war. He follows the chace [sic] under its influence, and his

very amusements take their tincture from it.7

When we speak of Indian “religion,” we are really speaking of indi-

vidual behaviors here, Schoolcraft’s “compound of rites.” What anthro-

pologist Ella Deloria wrote of the Dakota people is typical. “Dakota reli-

gious life was purely individual. There was nothing that all must do with

reference to God, but only what each man felt as an inner compulsion that

could not be denied.”8 We hear the same thing for the Plains Area, “Plains

religion is a heterogeneous phenomenon. Its content varies from tribe to

tribe, clan to clan, and even person to person.”9 As to be expected, this

was the case for every American Indian nation where individual actions in

regard to medicine powers were tolerated. In this sense there is certainly

no such thing as “organized religion” among the American Indians. At any

point in time, their “religion” is simply the sum total of the many different


“The Indians of North America lived in an atmosphere surcharged

with a consciousness of the supernatural powers.”19 Given this reality of

supernatural forces acting in their lives, it follows that Indians constantly

sought out such powers. Here again the records confirm this fact. It is

what caused Ruth Bunzel to conclude, “all over North America individual

mystical experience is prized.”20 To this we may add, “Every act, even the

simplest tasks of daily life could be transformed into rites and prayer.

Every part of Indian life was subjected to the sanctifying influence of

ritual. Thus life held the possibility of continuous spiritual experience.”21

With the possibility of good fortune accompanying a life filled with spiri-

tual experience, they had ample motivation to pursue additional powers.

Personal power was of such importance to everyone that there were even

ceremonies to imbue babies and young children with power.22

A common belief in medicine powers means that if you have no power,

it is seen as a misfortune. If you do have a power, it is seen as a gift

(often so-called in the quotes to come). Consequently there were social

pressures in place to encourage youngsters to seek out medicine powers,

because any individual power acquired was seen as a benefit to the entire

group. For example, the Tenino would send their children on repeated

vision quests until they obtained at least five spirit helpers. On the other

hand, their “shamans acquired a large number of guardian spirits. John

Quinn [their leading shaman during the 1930’s] claimed to control fifty-

five spirits and considered this only slightly more than the average.”23

Among the Indians of Ohio we find, “If an Indian has no Manitto [spirit]

to be his friend he considers himself forsaken, has nothing upon which

he may lean, has no hope of any assistance and is small in his own eyes.

Those who have been thus favored possess a high and proud spirit.”24

The nearby Sauk “believed that no one could succeed in any undertaking

without divine or supernatural help of some kind.”25 Remember, medicine

powers were within the reach of any individual, and therefore the position

of shaman was “regarded as open to all.”26

Most people have yet to understand that it wasn’t only the shamans

who pursued medicine powers, every capable adult sought them. The

records are quite clear about this fact. Here are numerous examples:

“Nothing bulked larger in Quinault life than the acquisition and control of

supernatural power.”27 In Canada, east of the Rocky Mountains, Harmon

reported, “almost every male Indian has a medicine bag.”28 West of the

Rocky Mountains the Flathead-Kutenai believed “Without guardian spirits

principle of his nature, entering into all the acts of his life [italics mine],

and infusing among those of a more commonplace character a feeling

of dependence upon the spiritual powers.”15 Not only were the Indians

affected in their daily behavior by the medicine way of life, they also spent

a great deal of time activating and maintaining their medicine powers.

Writing of the Tewa Raingod ceremony, anthropologist Vera Laski

saw what is true of all power ceremonies. “A miracle seems to occur—not

as a dogmatic concept of theology—but as an immediate experience in

which the image of the subconscious overruns the conscious concepts of

the reasoning mind. Thus, the Raingod Ceremony is religion in its truest

sense: direct mystic experience…Religion is all-pervading in Tewa life.

Even the routine of workaday life is interwoven with short prayers.”16 For

the nearby Navajo it is the same. “Every Navaho man and woman knows

and performs some rituals, prayers, songs, and legends…Navahos buy

songs and prayers from each other as they do jewelry…men may spend

from one-fourth to one-third of their productive hours in religious activi-

ties.”17 So not only is their religious activity infused into daily life, it is

based on direct mystic experiences that validate such a way of life to

them. Troyer gives a vivid example of this in his brief description of a Zuni

Ghost Dance:

The climax of the greatest excitement of the dance was reached

when the inner fire-circle was at its fullest blast, and the cries and

moans of the dancers rose to the highest tension. At this moment,

when from all sides the closest watch was kept on the rising smoke

of the central fire, a sudden lull took place—as if a deep inspira-

tion before giving vent to their pent-up feelings—for their anxious

expectations seemed at last gratified by the appearance of slowly

descending figures of transparent human forms. An outburst of

the wildest joy and the loudest exclamations of welcome, nearly

bordering on frenzy, took possession of the assembled crowd.

These spectral figures were seen slowly descending and rising

and in part keeping step with the music of the dancers, while the

excitement was at its height. As the fires diminished the spectral

forms quickly vanished.18


dance and visit the spirit land. Then they got up and told what they had

seen. Sometimes a dreamer secured his first vision in this way. A long

time ago they used to have Bole dances every week or so, but now they

have them maybe once a year.”42

Given that everyone sought out medicine powers, Indians made a

distinction between a shaman and other persons. Shamans were the

professional wielders of power. “In the case of the individual seeker after

shamanhood, the attitude is not, after all, very different from that of

the ordinary seeker for a personal guardian or spirit helper. Both are

consciously asking aid of the divine beings, and both employ as a whole

similar methods, but the powers so gained are employed by one profession-

ally, whereas the other looks at them in quite a different light.”43 Shamans

also had more power. Willard Park spoke to this point. “The possession of

power, however, does not necessarily distinguish the shaman from other

men. In some tribes, almost everyone has visionary experiences in which

the ability to control supernatural forces is acquired. Under these condi-

tions, the shaman may be regarded as one upon whom more than the

usual amount of power is bestowed, and is so differentiated in native

thought.”44 I suspect Park’s “some tribes” constitutes the majority of

them.45 A. H. Gayton, who worked among the Yokuts of California, also

realized that everyone sought powers, so that “the difference between the

shaman’s power and that of a non-professional was one of quantity rather

than quality.”46 Their language also made distinctions. For example,

among the Twana an ordinary person’s spirit power was called cshalt,

while the shaman’s power was called swadash.47 Basically, the shaman

is the person who has an extraordinary amount of powers.

It should be pointed out there is often a time lag between when a

shaman receives power from a helping spirit, and when his practice

begins. There are various reason for this. Sometimes it is a matter of

learning to control one’s spirit, other times it is a matter of gathering the

required ceremonial materials, and sometimes it is simply reluctance on

the part of the shaman to begin his art. For example, there was a Wailaki

shaman who had received her powers early on, but then stopped when she

was around thirteen “because she was thought to have too much power.”

However, she began again after the age of sixty because “spirit voices had

warned her lately that she would die soon unless she again practiced

shamanism.”48 Normally, Wailaki shamans wait for from two to five years

before they show their full powers.49

an Indian is like a fish without fins. He cannot live very long; he is nothing

but a fool.”29 The common Delaware view was that “the most unfortu-

nate persons were those who had no guardian spirit.”30 On Kodiak Island

in Alaska a person without power “is considered as the poorest of his

species.”31 Among the Tenino those who “controlled an exceptionally wide

range of such powers…These were the shamans.”32 Among the Klamath,

when they gather to witness the power abilities of their shamans, even

“non-shamans who have a little power, perhaps a single spirit, may sing

their own songs at a shaman’s performance if the spirit impels them.”33 In

Canada, “every Sarcee youth...hoped for a vision that would increase his

natural powers or grant him some protection during life’s journey...most

Indians obtained visions at one time or another, and every one without

exception possessed some medicine-object or charm, either procured

by himself or purchased from another. Each child received one for its

protection when it received its name, each hunter carried one to give him

success in the chase, and every ailing person sought a new one that would

set his feet on the path to recovery.”34 All Flathead “children, girls as well

as boys, …are sent off to the wilderness to obtain a guardian…if the first

expedition failed the young person would be sent time and again until

one attached itself to him.”35 “Every adolescent Ojibwa sought to establish

contact with the supernatural world and to gain an increment of power for

use in special emergencies.”36 In the interim their parents would “solicit

the aid of some elderly person, believed to be strong in supernatural power,

who would condescend to share some of his guardian spirit’s protection

with the child until the youngster was able to fast for his own guardian-

sprit vision.”37 By adulthood “every person had a guardian manitou [spirit]

who provided protection in battle, success in hunting, and identity within

the group. Each person maintained a supernatural relationship without

normally consulting religious leaders for guidance.”38 “It was the aim of

every Blackfoot to establish a relationship with this divine power of the

universe.”39 For the Apaches, “all individuals had at their call a certain

amount of ‘power’ or medicine,”40 and for the Yokuts “to seek assistance

from supernatural powers for success…was anyone’s privilege.”41

Individual pursuit of medicine powers was a pragmatic choice for

them. It simply made sense to pursue them. As discussed, there were

many different ways in which such powers were sought out. For example,

the Wintu and their neighbors used the Bole Maru dreamer cult dance

to secure powers. “In the old days dancers might fall over during a Bole


Indian people, even when converted to Christianity, usually retained

their belief that medicine powers were real. After all, experiencing such

powers is what had made them believers in the first place. This is particu-

larly true from around 1890, when all of their religious ceremonies were

declared illegal to perform, up to the 1940’s when medicine ceremonies

began to reappear. An earlier example comes from Chusco, an Ojibwa

medicine man, who was converted to Christianity during the early 1800’s.

He was formerly a distinguished man in his tribe as professor

of Meta and the Wabeno—that is, physician and conjuror; and

no less as a professor of whiskey-drinking...Subsequently [after

conversion] he showed no indisposition to speak of the [medicine]

power and arts he had exercised. He would not allow that it was all

mere trick and deception, but insisted that he had been enabled to

perform certain cures, or extraordinary magical operations, by the

direct agency of the evil spirit, i.e. the devil, who, now that he was

become Christian, had forsaken him, and left him in peace. I was a

little surprised to find, in the course of this explanation, intelligent

people who had no more doubt of this direct satanic agency than

the poor Indian himself.50

Another early example comes from Osawask (Yellow Bear) who was a

famous Cree medicine man. His baptism is recorded in the 1851 Anglican

Church records of that area. “Although baptized, Osawask remained a

well-known medicine man for another four decades.”51

I should note here that it is not unusual to read of an Ojibwa shaman

receiving whiskey as payment for services.52 Whiskey was also used in

some of the Menomini Shaking Tent ceremonies.53 There are even some

accounts that contend it was possible to obtain a vision and receive a

medicine power when drunk.54 Furthermore, given the desire for whiskey

in earlier times, there were certainly attempts made to acquire it through

the use of medicine powers. This was the case for a Northern Maidu man.

“He resolved to acquire the spirit of the honey-bee. This he did, and then

was able to secure whiskey in unlimited quantities, as the bee could insert

its proboscis through the corks of bottles, or through the closed bung-

holes of barrels, and suck out the liquor, which it afterward put into other

receptacles for the Indians’ use. The bee could also enter anywhere, as it

The observer effect works best where no doubts are present (discussed

below). A culture in which no one has doubt becomes a fertile ground for

the emergence of alternative possibilities. Reality is then experienced as

fluid, where the greater the change the greater the intensity of ceremonial

prayer designed to bring it about. The greatest powers were in the hands

of spirit helpers. This is how you would expect it to work. Spirits operate

at the quantum level, and because our reality emerges continually from

that level, quantum rules override our space-time rules. In a fluid reality

anything in space-time can change from moment to moment. Recall

(from Chapter 1) that a Hopi will look at a tree and essentially say, “That

appears to be a tree.” Medicine people continually expect the unexpected

to happen in their lives. They are always prepared for any sudden shift

in ordinary reality, and that expectation is often met. From our perspec-

tive one would have to say that “miracles” occur on a daily basis in their

world. If you expect the unexpected, quantum mechanics predicts that

you’ll get it, simply because your observations on reality are allowing such

possibilities to occur in the first place. You can even say medicine people

observe the universe in a manner that allows the laws of space and time

to be violated. This experience of reality as fluid leads them to make no

distinctions between dream, trance and ordinary waking states. We tend

to see a problem with that point of view, believing that waking reality is

the only valid reality. Their view is just the opposite—the spirit world is

more real than this world.

Ceremonial Rules and the Observer Effect

I have yet to read the historical record of any Indian nation that

convinced me they had no medicine powers. There are a few ethnographic

reports of nations that supposedly claimed to have no medicine powers, but

I suspect that was due more to their reticence to trust the ethnographer,

especially during those times Indian ceremonies were illegal. However,

medicine powers did eventually completely disappear from many nations.

My view is that before contact with western civilization all Indians were

involved in one way or another with the use of medicine powers. This

means every Indian culture had a strong observation in place, a strong

belief in medicine powers that allowed for their manifestation. The fact

that medicine powers worked is what kept this view intact.


“dreaming, wishing, intention, and exercise of will,” all aspects of conscious-

ness.63 For Speck a successful prayer has both intention (a specific obser-

vation) and will (the force of consciousness). Intention means that your

consciousness is focused to a specific desired result and held there. Will

means that you are sincere about your prayers. The more sincere your

will, the stronger your observation. An intensely sincere prayer will bring

tears to the eyes. To increase the power of their prayers, the Delaware

often prayed with wampum beads in their mouth, because wampum is the

“heart” of the Delaware.64 The most common way to increase the intensity

of a prayer was to sing the words rather than recite them. Thus it was

no accident that ethnomusicologist Herzog concluded early on, “Indian

singing, almost invariably, impresses us as very emphatic and tense…[a]

very forceful but balanced progression.”65 Consequently, singing “holds

close relationship” with magic.66

The Naskapi word for praying translates as “spirit-power thinking,”

which Speck calls “wish power.” “Wishing, for the accomplishment of

one’s desires, becomes an important phase of magic…It is practiced in

one form by silent communion, in which the individual concentrates upon

his desires and waits for his Great Man [soul spirit] to make it a reality

for him. The Great Man is stimulated, in this case also, by singing, drum-

ming, and rattling on the part of the individual.”67 Concentration on the

desired wish, coupled with repetition over time, results in a sustained

wish, a sustained observation. A strong, sustained concentration on a

singular intention is a quantum mechanics process that ensures a strong

observer effect on probability selection. The opposite, a lack of concentra-

tion, is what keeps a person from acquiring power in the first place.68

At the turn of last century Paul Radin summarized the salient features

of Ojibwa shamanism as “endless and ceaseless repetition” (continuous,

repeated observation), “persistent fixation of attention” (continuous focus

of consciousness on the desired result), and “the power of complete absorp-

tion while at prayer” (strength of observation), again pointing to conscious-

ness as the singular, most important aspect of shamanism.69 Had Radin

known of the observer effect he would have probably realized that he

was talking about how to activate it. Thomas Buckley recently reported a

similar characteristic among the Yurok. There one has to gain a “trained

mind,” one that speaks from the heart, in order to access medicine powers.

The characteristics of a trained mind are clear perception, concentration,

will power, and conviction.70 Add to this Yurok Timm William’s “we set our

could unlock all doors by inserting its proboscis. For a time the shaman

was extremely popular, for he was able to substantiate his claims as to

the whiskey. His control over the spirit of the bee, however, suddenly was

lost.”55 Midjistega, a Winnebago medicine man, could turn a pail full of

water into whiskey.56 In another report, an Ojibwa shaman once “sent his

helping spirits with a load of furs 60 miles to a trading post, whence they

brought back several cases of whiskey within an hour.”57

Sometimes conversion to Christianity did not stop their “pagan” prac-

tices. Edward Gifford reports of a Yavapai medicine man named Cyrus

John who was also Catholic.58 The Lakota medicine man, Nick Black

Elk, was converted to Catholicism in 1904, and even became a catechist.

However, he continued to pray with his sacred pipe, attended Sun Dances,

etc. When asked by Neihardt why he had converted, he simply replied

“My children had to live in this world.”59 This was at a time when weekly

church attendance was mandatory or you lost your monthly food allot-

ment. When Joseph Epes Brown, author of The Sacred Pipe, went to visit

him nearly five decades after his conversion, the old medicine man still

saw fit to render the traditional Lakota sacred rites to Brown. The Catholic

priests, however, contend that he never practiced his medicine powers

after his 1904 conversion.60 However Wallace Black Elk told me Nick’s

ceremonies were done in secret during the 1920-30’s. In fact, he counted

Nick as one of the sixteen “grandfathers” that taught him the old Lakota

ways. In addition Black Elk told Brown, “Do not shoot eagles, for you will

be shooting me,” acknowledging his visionary relationship to the eagle.61

Other evidence points to Nick’s heart remaining true to his old ways.62

An even more striking example is that of the Lakota medicine man

Horn Chips. Godfrey, his grandson, told me that when Horn Chips received

his power, the spirits showed him a Bible in his vision and said, “Never

forget this book!” Consequently, he went to church every Sunday for the

rest of his life, while at the same time conducting yuwipi healing ceremo-

nies and training others in Lakota medicine ways. Therefore it is possible

to find accounts of shamans who converted to Christianity, but continued

to practice traditional medicine ways. Consequently, conversion does not

necessarily mean the foregoing of medicine power practices.

So how do medicine people activate the observer effect? Anthropologist

Frank Speck, our “nature mystic” (mentioned in Chapter 2), came very

close to the explanation in his intensive study of Naskapi shamanism

during the 1930’s. He concluded their shamanism was a combination of


power ceremonies are long and intense. Healing ceremonies usually last

for many hours and are often repeated night after night before success is

obtained. Throughout each night, continuous prayers are their means of

probability selection. If the ceremonial participants are unified in their

conscious effort, then they will generate a unified observation such that

the desired result manifests. Each ceremonial participant contributes

to the power of the observation being made. More observations being

made means more input of consciousness, and, in turn, a more powerful

observer effect. The records clearly support this view. It is common to read

that in difficult cases a shaman will call for additional ceremonial helpers.

Even in normal healing ceremonies one often reads of the shaman telling

the patient to invite his friends to the healing as supporters. What do they

support? They support the observation being made through prayers.

A clear focus of consciousness is also critical to the success of any

ceremony. One’s mind is not to wander from the intent of the ceremony.

Once in place, the desired observation must be kept intact throughout the

entire duration of the ceremony. There is to be no interruption in empow-

ering the observer effect, otherwise failure will most likely result. To this

end, once a ceremony starts, no one is allowed to come or go. Everyone

is expected to remain within the ceremony house and active (no sleeping)

throughout the entire duration. The idea is to prevent any interruptions in

the observation being made. For example, William Beauchamp reported

about an Onandaga medicine ceremony that “to preserve due solemnity

and prevent interruption, the doors are locked when the ceremonies begin.

None may enter or go out, or even fall asleep. Anything like this would

spoil the medicine.”74 This is a cross-cultural rule in the ethnographic

records on shamanism. There is even a report that “when a medicine man

was interrupted in his incantations and the patient died, the death was

blamed upon him who caused the hindrance, usually the intruder was

killed immediately by the relatives of the deceased.”

Purification

In all cases, the relationship between an individual and a medicine

power is kept active via ritual that always includes some form of prayer.

Thus it is that praying for a specific medicine power is also a cross-

cultural characteristic of shamanism. Because unified, individual prayers

ambitions and do not stop until we achieve them,” and you have the repeti-

tion needed for a trained mind to activate the observer effect.

This “endless and ceaseless repetition” can become boring to a nonbe-

liever. However, repetition is a key ingredient to success. Prayers sent in

repetition are assaults on the other selecting observations that go to deter-

mine a state vector collapse. Therefore, the more you try, the more likely

you are to succeed. “The power of complete absorption while at prayer”

is the expression of an individual’s input of personal consciousness that

serves to strengthen the probability that their wish observation will mani-

fest (get selected). To this end ceremonial songs often use words that have

no meaning. That is, the singing becomes a means for adding intensity to

the observation being made. From their perspective “ [we] talk a great deal

as we sing.”71 The singer carries the prayer in his heart and lets his voice

send it to the other world. It is mainly the shaman’s and participant’s

repetition of sincere prayers by means of singing that provides a sufficient

amount of consciousness input such that the desired state vector (partic-

ular wish) eventually collapses against all the other possibilities.

In summary, your prayers must be accompanied by a great deal of

sincerity (strength of observation), humbleness (heart mode), intense focus

of consciousness (singular wish), and continuous repetition (empowering

of the observer effect over time), all in the proper order and recited at the

proper time. This behavior is what caused Arthur Parker to conclude that

Indian “medicine…was merely formula.”72 That is to say, there is a science

to it. All four of these prayer attributes are essential to the success of any

sacred ceremony. They are ritual actions in accordance with the operation

of quantum mechanics, and the rules of procedure are well-known by

medicine people. For example, “often Hopis comment on the ineffectuality

of ritual in other villages, suggesting that those people lack the power to

focus their thoughts and prayers in such a way as to produce consequen-

tial results.”73 In the accounts of medicine powers to come, these attri-

butes will be seen to appear in some form over and over.

Because shamans utilize the observer effect (via the actions of their

consciousness) to cause ordinary reality to jump to a state in which the

improbable becomes reality, one should expect to see ritual actions that are

aligned with processes of quantum mechanics. Recall that the “improb-

able” in this case involves altering only a very minute aspect of our reality.

We are talking about a small, localized change in the immense overall flow

of reality. However, small as it is, it is no easy task. It is well-known that


takes. In most cases there are specific prayers that accompany these

physical actions.

Another common practice of purification is the making of prayer offer-

ings that will be used in setting up a ceremony, usually as part of the

altar display, or deposited in designated sacred spots. Prayer offerings

were also used in their everyday life as well.84 These are sacrificial objects

and were never thought of as permanent productions. Once used, they

were disposed of in some specified manner.85 Regardless of what form

they took, these prayer offerings were packets of consciousness, prayers

embedded into physical objects. Their construction also serves as an exer-

cise in praying. That is, you practice your praying before you come to a

power ceremony. For this reason individual prayer offerings are best made

in silence and solitude.

Everything used in making prayer offerings is initially smudged. The

Lakota prayer offerings take the form of “tobacco ties.” These are small

pieces of colored, 100% cotton cloth, about an inch and a half square in

size, into which a small pinch of tobacco is placed during your prayer,

thus sealing the prayer with a tobacco offering. (Before cotton cloth, the

Lakota used little painted squares of buffalo hide.) At the completion of

each prayer the cloth corners are gathered into a bundle forming a small

packet of tobacco, and this is then tied onto a cotton string. The string,

cloth, and tobacco pinches are all smudged during this process. Before

entering a sweat lodge ceremony each participant makes tobacco ties, the

number and color of which is designated by the leader of the lodge. If you

are a patient in a yuwipi healing ceremony, you will be asked to make 405

tobacco ties for each night the healing is conducted. For healings a great

deal of praying occurs before the ceremony ever begins.

In the Southwest Area prayer offerings come most often in the form of

prayer sticks, prayer feathers, or plumed wands—long, specially selected

sticks to which are attached colored strips of hand-spun cotton yarn,

paints, feathers, often a “perfect” ear of corn, etc. The more important

prayer sticks require that the feathers come from live birds.86 “The ear

of corn for the fetish must be perfect in form and every portion of the

cob must be covered.”87 Each individual stick must be prepared in a very

prescribed manner including how to select the stick, the color and form of

the paint designs, the location of the feathers on the stick, and the type of

knot used in fastening them to the sticks, etc. When completed, the final

touch is a sprinkling of specular iron ore, a hard variety of hematite.88

are so vital to the success of a shamanic ceremony, medicine people pay

very close attention to this particular aspect of the ceremonial process.

Again, prayers are the fundamental means of generating a strong observer

effect. To this end, the first step in praying is “purification,” and all sacred

undertakings begin with some form of it.75 There are also purification

ceremonies designed to remove negative influences. For example, there is

an account of a Kwakiutl “wiping the body” ceremony conducted for a man

whose canoe capsized.76

Purification is any human action designed to make things “clean” or

“pure”—a process that attracts helpful spirits and exorcises evil spirits.

However to make things “clean” is not a matter of cleanliness. For example,

in certain Apache healing ceremonies, the patient’s body is covered with

mud as an act of purification.77 Purification manifests in many different

forms. James Lynd noted this around 1860 for the Sioux when he wrote,

“It is remarkable that the idea of purification should be so deeply rooted

in the mind of the Dakota…Their entire religion is pervaded with it.”78

Purification is also a cross-cultural characteristic of all medicine power

ceremonies. The ethnographic records usually lump this activity under

“ceremonial preparations.” However, ceremonial purification is really a

process designed to put one securely in heart mode, as well as strengthen

one’s prayers. Prayers must come from one’s heart and they must be

sincere, whelming up from the deepest part of one’s being.

One of the most common forms of purifying persons and objects is

known as smudging. This usually involves the burning of flat cedar,

sage, or sweet grass. Among the Hidatsa, the name for cedar translates

as “mysterious or sacred tree.”79 That which is to be purified is passed

through the smoke. Spirits are sensitive to odors, and smudging is used

to attract beneficial spirits as well as to dispel evil ones. In other cases,

such as the Southwest Area, corn pollen and corn meal are frequently

sprinkled onto objects to purify them.80 Among the Shasta of California

puffball spores, known as “pollen of the earth,” are utilized.81 Describing

house purification among the Zuni, Elsie Parsons states, “when certain

sacred figures called kwelele go from house to house, the women carry

embers around the walls of the house and throw them out on the kwelele.82

Purges, emetics, washing the head in yucca suds, whipping, and burning

piñon gum are some of the other Zuni forms of purification.83 Blowing

one’s breath on an object or person is another common form purification


in more time being spent in preparing for a sacred ceremony than it actu-

ally takes to perform it. This is a little known fact concerning medicine

ceremonies, but quite typical of them. Even during a sweat lodge purifica-

tion ceremony it takes more time to prepare the lodge and grounds, heat

up the rocks, and make one’s prayer offerings, than it takes to conduct the

ceremony itself. In some cases, such as the Winnebago Medicine Dance,

there are four nights of preparation that take place before a sweat lodge

ceremony is conducted for the dance.97 Even prayers said during the

course of a ceremony are often accompanied by a simple prayer offering.

For example, the Maidu often threw a bead into a fire as an offering before

praying.98

Medicine power ceremonies are designed in such a way that the prep-

arations intentionally cause you to turn away from your daily affairs

and turn your attention for long periods of time to the desired results.

The making of prayer offerings assists in slowing down your head mode,

focusing on emphasizing your heart mode, and getting you to focus your

concentration in order to deliver intense prayers. Again, it is a rehearsal

in which you practice your praying. It is a process that prepares your

consciousness for the ceremony to come. Strengthening your will and

intent begets stronger prayers. In reporting on a prayer ceremony for a

Yankton buffalo hunt, George Belden wrote, “The deep solemnity and

reverence manifested by the Indians while this prayer was being offered up

exceeded any thing of the kind I had ever witnessed among white men.”99

Such intense praying also helps to bring forth the necessary human

qualities that make prayers work in the first place—humbleness, honesty,

sincerity, endurance, courage of the heart, etc. Humbleness was such

a prime ingredient there were even ceremonies for making a person

humble.100 My view is the making of prayer offerings invokes the heart

mode as well as increases one’s ability to generate a strong observer effect

by means of prayers. A prayer recited from the head mode is powerless.

In another sense, prayer offerings are also packets of power. Any Lakota

medicine man will tell you that the spirits “read” each and every tobacco

tie when they come into a ceremony. All the more reason for making your

prayer ties in isolation, lest idle conversation be recorded in them and

weaken their effect.

Even though purification serves to put one in heart mode, I suspect

most Indians operated in this mode on a daily basis. Consequently, puri-

fication most likely served more to deepen this mode than to invoke it.

Their construction is also accompanied by acts of purification and prayer.

For example, a Hopi will often smoke, then chew a purification root, spit

it on his hands, and finally wipe his hands over his body before starting

to construct a prayer stick.89 The making of these offerings requires an

intense attention to details, not to mention how time consuming they are

to prepare.

The Navajo have many different sacrificial figurine offerings that are

carved from wood or a root, usually in the form of an animal. It takes

around two hours of ritual to complete a carving. “In Navajo conception

sand paintings and prayersticks belong to the supernatural whom they

represent, and both imply a sacrificial offering made to the supernatural…

figurines with their sticks are reproduced for sacrificial purposes and are

treated as offerings to the supernaturals concerned. Like other sacrificial

offerings, they are not thought of as permanent reproductions, but they

are deposited in [power] spots which supposedly are easily accessible to

the supernaturals.”90 Sandpaintings (also called dry paintings) “are the

means through which potent supernatural powers are made visible.”91

Sandpaintings are used both by the Hopi and Navajo during a healing

ceremony and typically take more than six hours to complete.92 During

the ceremony the patient sits on the sandpainting and “is brought into

direct identification with the healing powers of the gods. We might say

the image itself heals.”93 The Navajo word for a sand painting is iikhááh,

which means “they enter and leave.”94 This refers to the entry of spirits

into the sacred space of the sand painting, through a “door” which is

drawn into the painting by forming an incomplete outer circle. There are

well over one hundred different prayer sticks used among the Navajo,

such as the Blue Lizard, Gray Lizard, White Lizard, Rock Lizard, Gliding

Lizard, and Digging Lizard prayer sticks. As mentioned, the final touch is

a sprinkling of specular iron ore that leaves them sparkling.95 Like Lakota

prayer ties, these offerings also act as messengers, carrying prayers to the

spirit world.96

The making of prayer offerings is an exercise in focusing one’s concen-

tration to a single point, namely on the intent of the ceremony. It is also

a very time-consuming process during which specific prayers are usually

repeated. Their basic attitude is, the more you pray, the more sincere your

prayers become—practice makes perfect. The result is that you not only

add to the power of the ceremony, you have also practiced and strength-

ened your praying before coming into the ceremony. This usually results


maintain “a heart of a child,” to remain in the heart mode. Even the most

serious medicine man will be heard to joke during a sacred ceremony.

The Sweat Lodge Ceremony

Throughout North America no other American Indian ceremony is

more widespread than the sweat lodge purification ceremony. This also

makes it a strong contender for being their most ancient ceremony.103 It

was missing only from the Southwest Area and among the Inuit of the

Arctic Area; however today it can be found in the Southwest. Most lodges

come in the form of a low, dome-shaped round structure made of willow

saplings. A pit is dug in the center, the dirt from which is used to form an

outside altar. Sufficient hides, blankets or tarps are placed over the frame

to make it light-tight, leaving a door, which is covered by a flap. Rocks

are heated on an outside fire, and then placed within the pit, all of which

is done in a prescribed ritual manner. Once the door is closed, water is

poured over the hot stones by the ceremonial leader, sacred songs are

sung, prayers recited, and a sacred pipe is smoked. A sweat lodge cere-

mony usually lasts two to three hours, during which the door is usually

opened four times, but the participants normally remain within.

The widespread use of the sweat lodge is an indicator that it is quite

efficacious. Sitting in a pitch-black structure surrounded by hot steam

definitely stops a chattering mind. Be it a war raid, a hunt, or healing

ceremony, nearly every important undertaking was preceded by a sweat

lodge ceremony. For example, a Lakota Sun Dance usually begins with

four preliminary days of sweat lodge purification ceremonies, followed

by a morning and evening sweat lodge during each day of the dance.104

The lodge is often spoken of as a womb in which you are reborn into your

natural state, the heart mode. I see this as the most powerful form of

purification. Fasting is powerful as well, but takes more time. Fasting over

several days also serves to loosen the mind’s grip on your head mode.

The sweat lodge ceremony differs from most other forms of purification

in that spirits are called into the lodge. Consequently, it can also serve as

a power ceremony. For example, John Fire Lame Deer and his son, Archie,

both Lakota medicine men, always conducted their healing ceremonies in

a sweat lodge. A purification ceremony can also transform itself spontane-

ously into a power ceremony. An example follows.

Recall that first contact reports consistently described adults as child-

like. If you’ve ever watched grade-school children at recess, it is apparent

that what differentiates them from most adults is the amount of running

around and laughter going on. That ever-present laughter is an indicator

of heart mode. Indian adults were full of laughter, and this is one of the

reasons they were consistently labeled as childish. Anthropologists have

noted this consistent tendency to laugh. Cushing wrote that the Zuni

could become “uproariously happy.”101 Here’s what anthropologist Ruth

Underhill had to say, in 1938 in this regard, after spending eight years

among the Papagos (more correctly known today as the Tóhono O odham):

The Papagos are a gentle, poetic branch of the race which

produced the Aztec conquerors. Squat, broad-faced, dark, often

with the beauty of a clean-featured piece of sculpture, they have

three chief characteristics. They never raise their voices; even the

lustiest men speak in a smiling undertone which causes white

traders to declare that these Indians must all know lip reading.

Their movements are deliberate; our own swift jerkiness can

hardly comprehend the rhythm slowed down by desert heat to the

slow swing of a wave under a ship’s bow in a dead calm. And they

are always laughing [my italics]. We who pass days, even weeks,

at hard work, with no more than a polite smile now and then, can

scarcely accustom ourselves to the gentle laughter which always

accompanies Papago talk. No group of Papago men or women is

ever together without the sound of it. Going back to New York [City]

after months of that sound, I have missed it as I would miss cold

water if I could never drink it again.102

In the early 1800’s trader Alexander Ross observed this same childlike

happiness among the people living along the Columbia River. He recorded,

“On a fine day it is amusing to see a whole camp or village, both men

and women, here and there in numerous little bands, gambling, jeering,

laughing at one another…there appears a degree of happiness among them

which civilized men, wearied with care and anxious pursuits, perhaps

seldom enjoy.” I would contend this was the norm throughout North

America—a lot of praying accompanied by a lot of merriment. Joking and

laughing are ingrained into their lives simply because they are able to


the night, never to be seen again. So in this case a purification ceremony

spontaneously, via prayer, became a power ceremony.

Purification comes in many other forms as well. For example, the

Navajo use “fasting, sweating and emesis, sexual continence, bathing and

shampooing the hair in yucca suds, and vigil” as means of purification.105

The Navajo patient undergoes a ritual bath in water containing yucca

suds as purification before healing.106

Leave No Room For Doubt

Because a belief in medicine powers is fundamental to their mani-

festation, doubt impedes the process of generating a strong observation.

A doubter constitues a negative observation. I touched on this concept

(in Chapter 1) in the example of the telekenisis of a plastic cube. Any

doubting observation weakens the force of the desired observation, and is

one of the main reasons power ceremonies are usually conducted secretly.

Remember, the observer effect is a matter of consciousness. Shamans

actualize the power of the spirit world in part via a firm belief in its

reality.107 Therefore a doubting consciousness must also be treated as a

force. A simple jeer is sufficient to cause a shaman to end immediately a

ceremony.108 As one Tlingit informant put it: “They used to believe in all

that [medicine powers]. Now they don’t believe, so it kills all the power of

that.”109 Consequently, minimizing doubt and doubters is another aspect

of purification. In the early ethnographic records power ceremonies are

often categorized as “secret ceremonies.” They were secret mainly in the

sense that stray visitors were not allowed to attend. On the other hand,

anyone who knew the ceremony and knew how to pray was welcomed.

Learning the ceremony usually involved an “initiation.” That initiation

often involved nothing more than having been the subject of that cere-

mony. That is, a patient in a healing ceremony was often invited to join

their “secret society” after being healed.110 In other cases, the initiation

consisted of learning all of the songs that went with the ceremony, etc.

Telling a doubter to leave before a ceremony begins is not an act of

superstition as most publications would have you believe, but rather it

is an act designed to insure success. The ethnographic records are quite

clear about a shaman’s pre-ceremonial concerns regarding doubters.111 For

example, shamans often refused to perform in the presence of whites.112

It was a summer evening, during the mid-1980’s, when Wallace Black

Elk was running a four-day Sun Dance ceremony in southern Oregon. Each

night he led a sweat lodge ceremony, an inipi, and I attended them. One of

the Lakota rules for their inipi is that no one may enter the lodge wearing

any metal items, such as wristwatches, rings, glasses, etc. Accordingly,

Wallace removed a large silver-eagle medallion he was wearing around his

neck, and placed it on the altar in front of the lodge door. (One can see him

wearing this same medallion, dangling from a heavy silver chain, on the

front cover of my Black Elk book.)

After the ceremony was over, as was his custom, he rested by the side

of the lodge for a while before dressing. When he finally got around to

putting on his clothes, he couldn’t find his silver eagle on the altar. Using

flashlights we made a thorough search of the surrounding area to no

avail. The next morning the search was continued, again to no avail. His

silver eagle had simply disappeared.

That night we held another sweat lodge ceremony, again led by Wallace.

At one point during his prayers in the lodge he asked his spirits in Lakota

for help in finding his lost medallion. Finding lost objects is a common

use of spirits, so this was a normal request, but not usually done during a

sweat lodge ceremony. Such questions usually require a special ceremony.

The spirits then proceeded to tell Wallace that the white man sitting at

the back of the lodge had taken it off the altar. They not only told Wallace

who had taken it, but also that it was currently hidden in this man’s tent,

and he intended to take it home with him. Given this information Wallace

immediately began to pray in Lakota, “Oh Grandfather, I don’t want to

cause any bad feelings here, I don’t want to cause any harm, I don’t want

to cause hurt to anybody” and so forth. Then, most humbly, he ended by

saying, “But Grandfather, I really liked that eagle because my nephew

gave it to me.” (In this case his adopted nephew and personal physician,

the late Dr. Tony Hites.) The spirit merely replied, “Okay!,” then left. That

was all there was to it.

On exiting the lodge after the ceremony ended, Wallace immediately

noticed that his silver eagle was sitting in the same spot on the altar

where he had placed it the night before, and he immediately gave a prayer

of thanks for its return. He picked it up and put it on right in front of the

man who had taken it, never saying a word about the matter. Needless

to say, the culprit was freaked out. He immediately returned to his tent,

packed everything into his car, and drove out of the camp in the middle of


In order to eliminate any lingering doubts in the minds of the cere-

monial participants, shamans would often exhibit some type of power

displays at the onset of a ceremony. In other cases, the shaman would

give a long discourse concerning his power and the successes of its use.

The shaman related how it was acquired, the spirit associated with it,

successful cures, etc. This brings us back to Wolf’s fourth Hypothesis

(mentioned in Chapter 1)—“Shamans use any device to alter the patient’s

view of reality.” This is a limited view in that the shaman really includes

all the other ceremonial participants as well, even though the patient’s

view is most crucial for the success of the ceremony.

In North America common sleight-of-hand tricks are among the most

common “devices” that Wolf is referring to.118 Perhaps it was simply an

effort to save one’s real power for the intent of the ceremony, while getting

the participants to believe in the power of the ceremony. Whatever the

reason, they were an effective technique for getting the audience into a

“magic-can-happen” mode of observation, a belief in the efficacy of medi-

cine powers. The early frontier settlers who saw through these shoddy

tricks certainly took it as evidence that the shaman was simply a fraud.

It is common to read of how gullible the Indians were to believe in such

tricks.119 In fact, anthropologist Franz Boas found informants among the

Kwakiutal who explained some of their ceremonial tricks, which Boas

presented as evidence that all their powers were merely superstition.

However, the truth of the matter is that Boas knew “fake shamans” were

sorted out by the Kwakiutals and put to shame.120 So I suspect his public

view was more a matter of Boas protecting his professorship. What field

observers didn’t understand was the fact that these “tricks” were part and

parcel of the ongoing process of creating a powerful observation. In fact,

there is evidence that such tricks were actually a means for the shaman

getting into contact with his spirits.121 No doubt many of the ceremo-

nial participants themselves also saw through these tricks, but their first

priority was the success of the ceremony, so they were simply not both-

ered by such trickery. Indeed the participants showed great enthusiasm

for them regardless of how shoddily they were performed. The ceremonial

supporters were more into mood setting. They were there to support the

shaman, not to cast doubt on the shaman’s abilities. The only judgment to

be made in power ceremonies came at the end when the ceremony ended

in success or failure. Therefore, the shaman’s “tricks” need to be seen for

what they really are—a technique designed to move the participants into

An old Kutenai woman once told anthropologist Olga Johnson, “The medi-

cine men could always tell when anyone present was not a believer, and

would make them leave.”113 During the Delaware, twelve-day-long Big

House ceremony their sacred Misignw (mask) informs the shamans of

any participant “who has not done right,” and that person is immedi-

ately removed from the ceremony.114 The Umatilla dreamer shaman, Luls,

had a power to detect doubters. “If you doubted the sacredness of what

Luls said and walked in front of him, you would fall over unconscious.”115

Consequently, any scientific investigation of a medicine power ceremony

automatically contributes to its failure, since the investigators are usually

full of doubt that reality can be changed by any human effort. This is one

of the main reasons why shamans are not interested in being “researched.”

They simply have no interest in dealing with anyone who does not believe

in their powers.

Indians clearly understood the necessity of being in the proper frame

of mind when attending a ceremony. For example, in the summer of 1952

anthropologist James Howard was invited to witness an Arikara Bear

Society initiation ceremony. While waiting for the ceremony to begin,

Thomas Goodall, another bear society member, drove into the yard to

inquire what all the cars were gathered for. “He was informed that ‘bear

church’ was about to be held, and was asked ‘Are you worthy?’ Goodall

reflected a moment, then answered ‘No, I’m not worthy,’ and shortly drove

off.”116

Washington Matthews, a late 19th century physician, was often overly

persistent in his recording of Navajo ceremonies.

Some lay people were apprehensive and viewed with “horror”

Matthews’ recording or sketching during a ceremony for fear

that the [sand] painting would become less powerful as some of

its essence was being taken away for mundane purposes. If this

reaction was too vocal, the singer [ceremonial leader] would ask

Matthews to stop sketching because discord could cause the nega-

tion of the ceremony, even if he, the singer, was not opposed to

Matthews’ recording technique.117


up in the Yuwipi bundle and the spirits were all in there with me,

I told them about the white man’s skepticism and the can. I asked

them to help me locate it, and they answered, “Do you really want

it?” I said, “Yes, because I really need the money.” That was all that

happened. Soon they released me from my wrappings, and the

lights were turned on. There before me, lying on a piece of cloth,

was a mashed can.

I asked the white man who prepared his can whether that was

the can he mashed and threw away. He picked it up, examined it

carefully, pulled his pliers out, pried it open, and there were the

twenty-five dollars. He took the bills out, handed them to me, and

said, “They’re yours,” while all of his friends sat in open-mouthed

disbelief. I imagine those people aren’t so skeptical about my

powers anymore.122

Doubters will sometimes test the spirits without knowing it. For

example, one time the reservation superintendent put pressure on Fools

Crow to talk to a man, who had come from Switzerland, about his sacred

powers. This man was probably an anthropologist, because he recorded

their session on wax cylinders, a common field technique used early on.

The superintendent knew that I did not like to do this, but he

asked me to give the visitor at least a little information about my

Yuwipi ceremony, a couple of my other ceremonies, and something

about the way in which I treated my patients. At that time I had

three men who helped me with my sweatlodges. They prepared the

lodge, heated the rocks, and obtained some of the articles I needed

to treat patients. So I sent for them and we performed a sweatlodge

ceremony for this man. He put it all on wax records. When we were

done, he gently placed the records in a leather container. As he did

so, we heard a crackling sound. Startled, he reached in to see what

had happened, and found that the records had crumbled into little

pieces.123

Walter Fewkes, the first anthropologist to use wax cylinders, was

wise enough to get permission to record Hopi songs at Walpi. “The Snake

Chants had all to be repeated to the old priest who sang them; and not

the correct frame of mind in order to insure success. It is erroneous to

use them as evidence of fraud. However, it may indicate a weak shaman

since a powerful shaman is more apt to produce a real power display

(covered in Chapter 8) at the onset of a ceremony. The more correct view is

that a shaman who doesn’t display such initial trickery (or actual power

displays) is probably not a real shaman. I suspect these “antics,” as the

early literature often referred to them, continued until the shaman sensed

that everyone present was in the proper frame of mind to proceed.

I don’t want to lead anyone to believe that a ceremony cannot take place

in the presence of doubters; rather, it boosts the probability of success if

everyone is in unison in their belief. With doubters around, the shaman

and others needs to work a bit harder to overcome the resulting interfer-

ence. Nevertheless, if you have a very powerful shaman with powerful

helping spirits, there may be little to no concern about doubters being

present. This certainly holds true for shamanic power displays anyone

can attend. However, in very serious healing cases the general rule is that

shamans simply don’t risk having doubters or curiosity seekers present.

Powerful shamans need not be concerned with doubt. They simply

let their spirit helpers handle doubters. For instance, Frank Fools Crow

performed a ceremony around 1963 with doubters present. Four white

men and two white women from St. Louis came to his home in Kyle, SD to

test his powers. They asked him to perform a yuwipi ceremony. Obviously,

only a very powerful medicine man would undertake such a venture given

the doubting attitude such investigators usually entertain.

To prove how skeptical they were, one even brought a pair of

pliers and some paper money. He said, “Frank, I have twenty-five

dollars—a twenty-dollar bill and a five-dollar bill. I’m going to go

outside and find a can. Then I will put the money inside it, and

stomp it and pinch it shut. After that I will hide it. You won’t know

where it is. But if you can tell us where it is during the ceremony,

the money is yours.” I replied, “I wish you would put fifty dollars in

there.” And of course they laughed about that because they were

sure I couldn’t begin to tell them where it was anyway.

The fellow found a can, put the money in, mashed it, and

then hid it somewhere outside. He might have thrown it out in the

brush; I don’t know what he did with it. Then, when I was wrapped


father said nothing, kept his face pointed to the ground, waited a bit, and

finally said to his wife, “Close the door.”

Wallace said that no sooner had the very first song begun and the

father started pouring water over the hot stones, when there was an

extremely loud explosion that sounded in the lodge. The next thing they

knew they could all hear his wife outside saying to her son, “Son, you’d

better get up to the house and get dressed.” The spirits had not only liter-

ally tossed this young man out of the lodge, without putting a hole in the

lodge covers, no less, but he had landed outside completely naked!

When the ceremony was finished, all his clothing including his boots

were found tightly knotted into a ball in the back of the lodge. His mother

tried in vain to untie the bundle, and finally, given its “strong medicine,”

she simply threw the whole ball into the fire. So best not challenge or test

the spirits is an old adage from the American Indians. Such people always

lose, and there are many recorded accounts of its happening.

When it comes to your interactions with spirits things get more inter-

esting. Then the “no doubt rule” is in full force. Consequently, the first rule

of thumb is that you don’t question a spirit, even if you don’t understand

what it is saying. In our culture, which thrives on explanations for every-

thing, this is a nearly impossible rule to follow. However, medicine people

strictly follow it. To do otherwise is a form of disrespect. One time Godfrey

Chip’s helping spirit gave him a medicine plant to use in his ceremonies.

It’s called the “white root medicine.” In order to obtain it, the spirit told

Godfrey to look for it at a specific location on the reservation with which

Godfrey was familiar. However, the spirit didn’t give any clues as to what

this plant looked like, but merely told him to go and look there. To make

matters even worse, the spirit told him to go there in the dark to look for it.

Nevertheless, he didn’t question the orders. He went there in the dark and

started walking around in this open field, stumbling over rocks because

he couldn’t see a thing. All of a sudden he saw a single plant that was

glowing brightly in the dark. That’s how he discovered which plant it was.

The Moon Time Taboo

There is one other important source of interference with the activation

of the observer effect that needs to be mentioned here, another aspect of

purification. This comes in the form of the taboo against menstruating

until they had passed his censorship, and he had breathed upon the cylin-

ders, would he consent to give the records over.”124 His cylinders remained

intact.

Wallace Black Elk told of an incident that happened to a doubting

priest that attended one of his power ceremonies. Like Fools Crow, Wallace

had enough personal power not to be bothered by doubters. This priest

showed disrespect towards Wallace by questioning his actions during the

preparation of the ceremony. At one point, as Wallace was setting up his

altar display, he asked Wallace, “What are all those dead animals for?”

He was referring to the feathers, horns, a buffalo skull and other animal

parts being placed by Wallace in his altar display. Completely unruffled,

Wallace simply replied, “Oh, they’ll be here shortly.”

Sure enough, during the ceremony a buffalo spirit came in. In the

darkness of the ceremonial room a big buffalo head started butting up

against this priest. The priest felt the shaggy head with his hands, felt its

hot breath on his face, and started to scream, “Get that thing out of here!”

However, it was the priest who actually fled the room. The records are full

of such reports about the retaliatory things spirits will do to doubters or

to those who are in some other way disrespectful to the spirits during a

ceremony. So if the shaman fails to root out initially the doubters, more

than likely the spirits, once they arrive, will run them off in some manner.

Wallace also told of a more dramatic case of disrespect that he witnessed

when quite young, probably in the mid-1930’s. He had gone to the home of

an older couple. They regularly ran inipis. Since Lakota men and women

do not traditionally sweat together, the wife of the old man, as is often the

case, tended to the opening and closing of the sweat lodge door. After all

the men had entered the lodge, the hot stones had been brought in, and

the ceremony was about to begin, the son of this couple rode up on his

horse. He had been “educated” and did not follow the “old ways.” He was

wearing a fancy cowboy outfit—leather chaps, big hat, fancy boots, beaded

gloves, the whole works. As he rode up his mother quickly yelled, “Hurry

up son, we are about to begin a sweat.” Trained not to be disobedient

to parents, he angrily stomped over to the lodge and entered it without

taking off any of his clothing. Of course, his act was highly disrespectful

to the spirits as Lakota men enter the sweat lodge naked, wrapped only in

a towel or blanket. Once the door is closed, the covering is removed and

they remain naked for the duration of the ceremony. Nevertheless, his


Another reason given for this taboo is that the menstrual discharge

carries an odor that is offensive to the spirits, which causes them to leave

a ceremony. Spirits are known to be sensitive to odors, and that is the

primary reason smudging is one form of purification. In fact, the spirits

say humans stink, and the sweat lodge purification before undertaking a

power ceremony also serves to eliminate body oder as well.

Ceremony

The fundamental purpose of a power ceremony is to get in touch with

the Great Mystery by means of spirit helpers so that a desired change in

reality can come about. One prays to a spirit(s) to alter reality in a specific

way or to answer specific questions. The shaman, whose spirit it is, leads

the prayers and discourses with the spirit upon its arrival. In order to

do this, the shaman accesses the SSC via a trance-induction technique.

Usually the shaman and ceremonial participants go directly from a sweat

lodge into the ceremony. In a Lakota healing ceremony, if a sweat lodge

ceremony is not possible, the participants are steamed off before entering

the room. A bucket of hot rocks is placed by the door, and as partici-

pants enter the room water in poured on the stones such that each person

passes through a billow of steam.

The coming and going of spirits is hindered by light, so most often

power ceremonies are conducted in pitch darkness. To that end, once the

door is shut, a blanket is usually hung over it to prevent any light from

entering. If there are windows in the room, they have been covered as well.

Once the lights are turned off, the ceremony begins with a trance-induc-

tion technique. As pointed out in the last chapter, this is usually achieved

through drumming and rattling accompanied by singing, all in a totally

darkened room. The helping spirits of the Tlingit “only permit themselves

to be conjured by the sound of a drum or rattle.”130 Not only does the

shaman go into trance, participants often do so as well.

Trance states are usually classified into two basic forms, light trance

and deep or full trance. Some researchers have proposed a medium trance

state as well.131 In a light trance the shaman will remember what has

happened, while in full trance the spirit will usually possess the body of

the shaman causing him to have no memory of what happened. It is well-

known that trance states exhibit definite physical signs such as violent

women attending sacred ceremonies or handling sacred objects.125 This

is a cross-cultural taboo among American Indians, and it is observed in

every power ceremony across the board. Among whites this is one of the

biggest complaints I hear concerning American Indian power ceremonies.

People just don’t get it. Top that off with “feminist” concerns, and the taboo

is often seen as merely a display of male chauvinism. I remember Wallace

Black Elk’s walking out once on the first night of a three-day seminar

when a white woman kept trying to argue with him about this issue. She

had paid her seminar fees and had a right to come to the sweat lodge

ceremony even though she was on her “moon time” (menstrual period).

Instead, no one enjoyed the ceremony.

There is a very good reason for this taboo. Menstruation is a time of

increased power in the female. Powerful forces are purifying her body.

Most importantly, these are energies that are not directly under the control

of the woman herself. Therefore, this powerful female energy process has

serious potential to interfere with the ceremony. Even a glance, a short

observation, from a menstruating woman can destroy a medicine.126 There

are many accounts of the power of menstruating women to interfere with

medicine ceremonies. Here is one example in which a Tlingit shaman’s

power display ended in disaster. “On one occasion a jealous woman had

her adolescent daughter (who was in isolation) look through a crack in the

wall as [the shaman] Kushkan swallowed the fishhook. As it was jerked

out it caught in his mouth. But his spirits told him that the girl had looked

on him.”127

Menstruation is best seen as a source of uncontrolled power that

can weaken a shaman, and they protect themselves accordingly.128 For

example, there is a report of a Comanche medicine man who “would sew

mescal beans into the cuffs of his trousers as protection against possible

contamination from menstrual blood.”129 The taint of this blood can

cause a person to faint as well. Among Sun Dancers the presence of this

particular energy is experienced as a metallic taste in the mouths of the

dancers, usually followed by their passing out. I once saw this happen at a

Sun Dance on the Pine Ridge Reservation. A dancer fell to the ground and

the ceremonial leader knew exactly what was going on. He walked directly

up to the offending white woman, who was standing in the outer Sun

Dance arbor, and asked her to leave the grounds. Therefore menstruation

is to be treated as a real energy, and it can cause ceremonial interference,

personal harm to others, and even failure of a ceremony.


Gladys Reichard’s early work in the Southwest Area resulted in her

seeing shamanism as “ritualistic persuasion.” This is a revealing choice of

words. Persuasion implies the use of repetition due to a resistance. The

flow of reality is fixed and will resist change. Therefore the purpose of a

ceremony is to overcome the current probability, and to focus on an alter-

nate probablity that will change the flow of reality into the desired result.

To do so, you have to keep at it. Later on, Sam Gill’s study of Navajo prayer

was clearer about repetition. “The message of the prayer is highly redun-

dant,” and the “extent of repetition…[is] greatly out of proportion to the

extent of the message which is borne in the prayer texts.”135 “Greatly out of

proportion” simply means it is not an easy task. You repeat yourself, your

observation, until you get the desired result. From the ethnomusicologist’s

point of view “repetition, in one guise or another, is one of the most signifi-

cant principles of primitive musical form.”136 The repetition in prayer is

also reflected in their rituals as repetitive movements.137 The prayers,

movements, and songs are repeated, over and over for hours on end, some-

times days on end, all highly charged with emotion, as a means of gener-

ating a singular, strong observation on the flow of reality.138 From the

ethnologist’s point of view, medicine ceremonies are usually described as

being very monotonous. Nevertheless, such repetition is absolutely neces-

sary in order to activate the observer effect. Reality is continually mani-

festing from underlying probabilities, or potentialities, and it requires a

continuous input of sincere, willed consciousness to select for a specific

state vector to collapse. In most instances when you go into a medicine

ceremony, you never know how long it is going to last. All keep praying

until the desired view of reality comes into being, hope manifests, the

selected state vector collapses out of the many possibilities. As mentioned,

this can often take several full nights of ceremony to achieve.

Few people know that anthropologist Margaret Mead was “a member of

the Board of Trustees of the American Society for Psychical Research as

early as 1943 and…a proponent of the formal recognition by the American

Association for the Advancement of Science of paranormal phenomena as

legitimate subjects of scientific investigation.”139 However, she was unable

to conceive of a different order in the universe by which such phenomena

could operate. Consequently, she concluded it had little to do with personal

belief or disbelief.140 She was dead wrong.

bodily and facial contortions accompanied by hysterical shrieking, fren-

zied action, spastic movements, becoming rigid, or foaming at the mouth,

all of which usually shocked white visitors.132 The full trance is identified

by the spirit’s speaking through the shaman, usually in an alien voice

that is often unintelligible to the audience. Consequently, sometimes the

shaman has a ceremonial assistant who translates for the participants.

Again, in a full trance the shaman will not remember what was said upon

coming out of the trance. Once in the SSC, the shaman sets about to

change reality to the desired end through prayers. That is, the wish-fulfill-

ment process begins. It is always conducted in a very prescribed manner.

To change reality the shaman and participants unkowningly utilize

the observer effect. The shaman, in unison with the participants—patient,

ceremonial assistants, spirit helpers—must generate a very specific obser-

vation that is strong enough to cause a state vector collapse that changes

reality in the desired manner. The bigger the change in reality, the greater

the amount of conscious effort needed—and thus the reason for often

calling upon ceremonial assistants to aid in the praying, as well as other

powerful spirit helpers. The shaman serves as the connection to the spirit

world, a conduit for the power, and the ceremonial participants serve to

augment the shaman’s power. Recall, at the quantum level everything is

interconnected such that different individuals at this level can contribute

to a singular observation. More participants mean more input of human

consciousness and in turn a more powerful observation. A Tlingit infor-

mant explained it this way, “Yek [power] is the same thing…They say

it looks like a bear, but it grows. The more tribe [people] you have, the

bigger that is. That’s why, a small tribe—their shaman isn’t strong.”133

Furthermore, whatever is happening, you not only want it to happen

differently, you want that change bound into time as well. You don’t want

the “spell” to wear off. You want the change to be permanent.

As mentioned, some of the earlier anthropologists did note details of

the actions of shamans in regard to consciousness. In her study of the

Chippewa during the 1920’s, Frances Densmore reported that “the chief

purpose of the djasakid [shaman] [is] to work upon the mind of the sick

person, and by that means to produce a recovery.”134 More than likely she

understood there was some kind of connection between what was going

on in the mind of the shaman and the mind of the patient that resulted in

the cure. We have a similar notion, known as “self-healing,” but it’s very

difficult to do on one’s own.


quite clear that physicists prefer to deal with “what works” in quantum

mechanics rather than trying to wrap their mind around the implica-

tions of Bell’s Theorem. Physicists tend to shrug off this discovery as a

“measurement problem” and simply keep focused on the practical appli-

cations of quantum mechanics. Nevertheless, Rosenblum and Kuttner do

take readers to the very edge. They write, “As yet, evidence for the exis-

tence of paraphenomena [e.g., medicine powers] strong enough to convince

skeptics does not exist. But if—if!—such a phenomenon were convincingly

demonstrated, we would know where to start looking for an explanation:

the quantum effects of consciousness, Einstein’s ‘spooky interactions.’”143

This is the exact approach taken here given all the convincing demon-

strations of “paraphenomena” that have been around for thousands of

years among shamans worldwide. Such “spooky interactions” do exist.

Consequently, by closely examining the consciousness-related actions of

shamans and ceremonial participants, I believe one can put meaning

to their actions, all of which serves to remove the stigma of superstition

currently attributed to their art.

Some scientists skirt the enigma by assuming that the observer effect

applies to small sub-particles, but not to full-sized objects. However, this is

not the case. “Quantum theory works perfectly; no prediction of the theory

has ever been shown [to be] in error. It is the theory basic to all physics,

and thus to all science…But if you take quantum theory seriously beyond

practical purposes, it has baffling implications. It tells us that physics’

encounter with consciousness, demonstrated for the small, applies to

everything. And that ‘everything’ can include the entire universe.”144

I’m taking a new, hypothetical approach to shamanism. I contend

it is a view that makes much more sense than any other view. To view

shamanism as mere superstition makes little sense and explains nothing.

That assumption is based on the notion that we live in a solid, material

universe. Not only do experimental observations point to just the opposite,

the old view provides no explanation for the many cross-cultural similari-

ties found in shamanism. My view is these core characteristics incorpo-

rate actions that are necessary for the activation of a desired observation

that overpowers the flow of reality, changing it to the desired result. The

many written accounts of Indian shamans contain only bits and pieces

of information that tend to support the view being set forth here. Had we

known from the outset that consciousness and matter were intertwined,

field reports would have contained greater detail in this regard. Sadly

You might say that the wished-for probability is realized through the

power of the human heart. Sincere prayers, prayers that come from one’s

heart, are words that have been imbued with a power. These words are not

like ordinary words that come from the everyday speech of the head mode.

It needs to be emphasized that American Indians are well aware that

prayer words are different from thought-generated words. Prayer words

are more like objects that have a reality of their own. At the quantum

level, such words are indeed a reality as they go to form a specific obser-

vation. This two-types-of-words distinction is often made clear in their

language, where one term is used for power-imbued words (prayer words)

and another term is used for ordinary conversation words. This is what

Lakota medicine man Nick Black Elk meant when he was explaining to

John Neihardt what “send a voice” to the spirits meant. In Black Elk’s

view a “voice sent” is different from words spoken in general conversation.

They are packets of power directed towards our underlying reality, which

are designed to change things in this reality. Navajo Doc White Singer

explained as follows: “Prayer is not like you or me; it is like a Holy Person,

it has a personality five times that of ours.”141 Consequently, a human

prayer (via the heart mode) can be equated to a packet of consciousness

that goes to form a powerful observation at the quantum level. Unified

prayers form an even more powerful observation.

Rethinking Reality

Before proceeding to a review of the various forms of medicine

powers, I’d like to end this chapter with a short summary of what has

been covered. Changing our present view of reality from a solid to a fluid

process is not easy, but physics demands it. It is counterintuitive to think

that reality is not solid. Physicists themselves don’t know what to make

of this new understanding. No one really wants to talk about it. Once the

results of tests on Bell’s Theorem were finalized, it took Oxford University

eight years to become the first university press to deal with this finding,

despite the fact physicist Evan Harris Walker published the first in-depth

coverage of this quantum strangeness in a private press six years earlier.

Two physicists, Bruce Rosenblum and Fred Kuttner, from the University

of California, Santa Cruz, in 2006 published Quantum Enigma, as they

dubbed the problem of explaining this astounding discovery.142 They were


Finally, let me emphasize again that regardless of how spectacular

medicine powers may appear to us, they are extremely limited. What is

being altered in ceremony or via a shaman’s power display is limited to a

very miniscule aspect of our total reality, be it bending a tree, moving a

can, or putting a red hot rock into your mouth. Furthermore, small as it

may be, it is extremely difficult to do. When it comes to a healing, first you

try your own remedies, and if that fails, you go to an herbalist. It is only

as a last resort that you ask for a healing ceremony led by a shaman, and

this is due mainly to the difficulties and expense such a ceremony entails.

The records clearly indicate that it takes a huge input of consciousness to

make small changes in physical reality. Nevertheless, it can happen, and

the subsequent chapters are designed to make this point very clear.

enough, we really didn’t know what to look for. Consequently, the most

informative reports are those in the words of the Indian informants them-

selves; their own view of how it all works aligns more closely with quantum

mechanics. Because anthropologists didn’t believe in their medicine

powers, their attention was focused more on coming up with categories

into which everything could be fitted. That led to more confusion than it

did understanding. “Secret societies,” one such category, came and went.

They came about when a spirit helper bestowed a power ceremony upon

an individual, and they disappeared when that power could no longer be

activated. The only thing “secret” about them was who did and who didn’t

come through the door whenever the ceremony was performed. So they

are neither “secret,” nor a “society” in our sense of the word. Their “secret

societies” are better seen as a scientific laboratory in which the art of

shamanism is wielded.

At their deepest centers, both quantum mechanics and medicine

powers are currently a mystery. So it is appropriate to approach medi-

cine powers from that point of view. Accordingly, the question before

us is not about how it all works, but what works. Those things that do

work—purification, trance-induction, menstruation taboo, etc.—are core

characteristics that appear from culture to culture. They entail actions

that point to the use of the observer effect. The cultural differences—

forms of prayer offerings, songs sung, different types of amulets, etc.—are

merely trappings on the surface. The goal here is to make more sense of

shamanism, not to prove it or explain how it actually works. One does not

have to explain what a spirit helper is in order to utilize spirit helpers.

After all, despite the complexities of the physics that revealed this new

understanding of reality, any human being can utilize the observer effect.

Uneducated, uncivilized shamans have been doing so for thousands of

years and still do so today.

One fact is universally present. Any transformation that comes about,

be it simply luck in finding ripe berries or healing a wounded warrior, is

actualized only through the process of praying, a process that makes a

sustained wish-observation on reality. In a culture that fully believes in

medicine powers, there is no separation between a secular and a religious

life. Prayers are said for everything. As a Yurok woman put it, “We are

the praying people, that’s who we are. In the old days everything we do is

pray.”145


Chapter 5

Walking the Good Red Road

With Indians we get closest to the truth when we

understand that all elements of nature are magic

products or are endowed with marvelous properties.

Copper and iron are not prosaic copper and iron,

but are something quite mystical. A yellow buttercup

is not a yellow buttercup, but, if not a bewitched

princess, at least an otherwise spiritual being. One

cannot catch fish or kill enemies with a simple

hempen net or with iron arrows. Even the best iron

and the best hempen net give almost no help unless

they are assisted by a strong belief and some charm.

— Johann Georg Kohl, German ethnographer

On the Ojibway of Lake Superior in 18551

Pandora’s Box

When the colonists arrived in America there were literally thousands

of different medicine powers in use. Although early settlers, trappers,

and traders were aware of their powers, over the next three centuries few

details about them were forthcoming. Nevertheless, scant as the records

are, we do find examples that serve to substantiate the relationships

between quantum mechanics and medicine powers that have been set

forth here. Because their medicine powers were highly individualized,

they appear in a myriad of forms. That range speaks not only to the fact of

many users, but also to the vastness of human creativity. However, their

individual forms are of little consequence. Here priority will be given to

looking at those reports that give us insights into the relationship between

the observer effect and medicine powers. Over the next four chapters we’ll

begin with the individual medicine powers found throughout any commu-

nity and end with the most powerful displays of such powers.

Individual acquisition of medicine powers is the most widespread form

of the utilization of such powers and therefore also produces the greatest

variation. Regardless of form, each power is sustained by prayers from its

owner. Prayers imbued with conscious intent are a form of human hope.

Recall that the early Greeks saw hope as a power given to humans by

the gods, the only power that was saved by Pandora’s quick slamming of

a box lid—all our other god-given powers escaped. From the Greek point

of view, hope was the singular supernatural power left in our hands. In

the language of quantum mechanics, hope means you select a particular

state vector that is to be collapsed and then try to affect this collapse.

The stronger one holds onto that hope, that observation, the better is the

possibility for success. Thus, “never give up hope,” is an Indian cross-

cultural understanding where medicine powers are concerned. Let’s begin

with a hope versus doubt example. The intent of one’s hope is actually an

observation being made on the universe, while another’s doubt is what

weakens the power of that hope-based observation.

The setting is Sand Lake, Wisconsin, in 1942. Anthropologist Robert

Ritzenthaler has just driven there from Detroit along with a Mrs. Butler

and her son, Laurence, who had been diagnosed by western physicians as

having incipient tuberculosis. They have traveled to a Chippewa medicine

man named John King to seek help. King is locally known for his ability

to perform the Shaking Tent ceremony.2 At first King is very reticent

about having Ritzenthaler attend his Shaking Tent ceremony. King simply

states that he cannot perform his medicine in front of white people. This

is because whites doubt his powers. Nevertheless, he finally decides to let

Ritzenthaler attend since he has driven the car that brought the patient.

As you read this account, pay particular attention to Mrs. Butler’s persis-

tence, coached by Mrs. King, to insure that her son receives a healing.

This is the type of ongoing “observation” that insures success. Also, it is

the nature of helping spirits that they appear to be clueless when called

forth. For this reason, when a spirit comes into a ceremony, you must be

very clear and persistent about what you desire.

King was assisted by Charley Little Pipe. After King entered the tent, it

shook for about five minutes. Suddenly the voice of a spirit spoke through

King to the audience.


Then the spirit asked, “Why did you call me here?” Mrs. Butler

answered (prompted by Mrs. King) and said she had brought her

boy here and wanted him, the spirit, to find out what was wrong

with him and if he had any medicine he could tell her about. Then

Charley filled the pipe on the blanket and lighted it for Mrs. King

and passed it to all the others. They each took a few puffs and then

he handed it in [into the tent] to John King.

The spirit said, “All right, I’ll try. I’ve helped a lot of Indians and

I’ll see what I can do for this one.” The spirit spoke to Laurence

and told him to come closer. Laurence moved to a seat about 2

feet from the ji´ken [shaking tent]. The spirit asked Laurence if he

could understand Chippewa and Laurence was slightly confused.

Mrs. Butler told him to answer the spirit, so Laurence said that he

could speak Chippewa (all the talking was, of course, in Chippewa)

[thus Laurence’s initial confusion].

The spirit then said, “If you believe in me, I will tell you the

truth, but if you don’t, I will tell you lies. Come closer and I will

look at you.” Laurence leaned a little closer, and the spirit said,

“That isn’t bad. That sickness will leave you.” Mrs. King told Mrs.

Butler to ask the spirit to work on him, so Mrs. Butler spoke to the

spirit and said, “I would like to have you doctor him and boda´nzik

(blow on him) and tell me if there is any medicine that you know

will help him.”

The spirit said, “Drum for me and I’ll see what I can do.” So

Charley started drumming and the women shook the stick rattles...

and the wigwam [shaking tent] began to shake hard and every

once in a while the sound of blowing was heard. (“Whoo”, unvoiced.

The sickness is supposed to be blown away from the person like

this.)

The wigwam shook for a few minutes and then quieted down,

the drumming stopped, and the voice of the spirit was heard again.

It said, “That isn’t a bad sickness and you can get over it by taking

medicine.” Every so often a spirit would talk in an unintelligible

growl, and John King would say ani´ngwene (all right then), as a

sign that he understood what the spirit was saying in that special

spirit language.

Mrs. Butler then asked what kind of medicine she should get

and who should make it. The spirit answered, “Anyone who knows

good medicine could make it.” (Usually the spirit will name a

certain medicine and name the person who should make it.) Mrs.

Butler told the spirit that she had been using some of her own

that’s all. Then he told Laurence to take good care of himself and

use the medicine.3

This spirit was a little vague. Ritzenthaler even notes this by pointing

out the medicine and medicine-maker are usually named by the spirit.

Coached on by King’s wife, Mrs. Butler keeps pursuing results. Obviously,

the “anyone who knows good medicine” is John King, and I imagine that

she asked him for some of it before leaving there. More important is the

source of this confusion. Remember that we are dealing with everyone’s

consciousness in this room and doubters should not be present. Also,

recall John King’s not wanting Rizenthaler to come in. Indeed, we find

that Ritzenthaler reports “the sickness is supposed to be blown away.”

This is Ritzenthaler’s way of saying he doesn’t believe in such powers, or

at least a means of letting the reader know that. Consequently, my conclu-

sion is that Ritzenthaler caused Mrs. Butler much more effort to obtain

her desired results.

The next example more clearly demonstrates the interplay between

persistence and the power of hope. In this case it is a Cherokee “examina-

tion with the beads” divination ceremony for a sick boy in the early 1900’s.

This is a simple divination process that it is used not only for prognosis

and diagnosis but in curing diseases as well.4 Usually the medicine man

holds a black bead between thumb and finger of left hand and likewise a

white or red one in the right hand. Upon reciting a specific prayer or song,

referred to by the Cherokee as a “formula,” the more vitality the bead

in the right hand shows, the greater are the chances for recovery of the

patient.5

Around 1821 Sequoyah invented an alphabet for writing the Cherokee

language. He used small chips of carved wood to represent the different

sounds (phonemes) of the Cherokee language. When he initially demon-

strated his ability to make his “chips talk” to fellow Cherokees, they initially

accused him of witchcraft.6 Eventually, however, Cherokee medicine men

began recording their medicine formulas using Sequoyah’s alphabet. The


texts of these formulas are called idi:gawé:sdi, which literally translates

as “to be said, them, by one.”7 In one study of a manuscript acquired

from an old Cherokee shaman, the Kilpatricks noted that many songs,

although recorded in Cherokee, included words that were not in Cherokee.

They were Creek or Natchez words. This points to an understanding that

the intent of the shaman’s prayers is more important than understanding

the meaning of words sung. Here the focus is on following the formula. The

list of formulas in this manuscript included such charms as: to “remake”

a comb; to cure flatulence; to prevent fever from eating green corn; and to

“remake” tobacco for use in attracting a woman, to name a few of them.8

In the example that follows the formula used required that the beads be

placed on a new piece of cloth each time the beads were consulted (authors

abbreviated some names).

Many years ago [circa 1913] my cousin, Charlie, Je.’s son, was

very ill; he was very poorly; he was just about to die. My mother

was very sorry for her daughter and for her grandson, and she

sent after Doctor Mink, asking him to come down to see what he

could do. An evening, soon after, Doctor Mink came to our house

and said he would spend the night. But my mother was anxious

to know something about her grandson’s illness and prepared

the cloth and the beads. Mink examined with the beads, but he

found that nothing could be done. My mother cried and was sorry

because of her grandson; she got some more white cloth and two

more white beads, and asked the medicine man to try again. He

did, but again he said the boy could not recover. And again my

mother put some more cloth and two more beads down, but still

there was no hope. A fourth time she got cloth and beads and the

medicine man examined once more; but again he found that the

boy was very poor, and that he would have to die.

I then proposed to go over the mountain to where the sick boy

lived, and to go and see him anyway. We all went, and when we got

there we found the boy unconscious.

I asked the doctor if he would come to the river with me; we

took a dipper which we filled with water, and when we got back to

the house, we sprinkled some of it on the boy’s face; I then went

back to the river and poured the rest of the contents of the dipper

away exactly where we dipped it from. When I came back, I asked

Doctor Mink if he would examine with the beads again to see if

the boy could be cured. I prepared cloth and the beads and I went

with Mink to the edge of the river. He examined with the beads, but

found there was no help. I put down some more cloth and beads,

but again the doctor found there was no help. I then suggested to

change the boy’s name. Charlie could die, but we would give him

a new name; we would call him Alick. Mink then again examined

with the beads, and he found that Alick was going to get better.

They tried a fourth time, and again there was hope. I then got

Mink to examine to see if he would be able to cure him; but he

found he couldn’t. Then he examined for another medicine man,

and then for another, and another, and finally he found that Og.

could cure him. We then sent for Og. to cure him. In the sick boy’s

house nobody was allowed to sleep that night. Doctor Mink kept

busy about the fire, working against the witches.

Og. came down every morning and every night; he did the

curing, and Doctor Mink did the examining with the beads. Four

days afterwards I went down to the river once more with Doctor

Mink, and we found that in seven days Alick would be about,

hunting. And so it was.9

Personal Power Objects

Individual powers manifested through a large array of forms such as

amulets, charms, talismans, fetishes, chants and the like. Generally they

were objects or words imbued with power. Rare was the person who did not

have more than one of them, be it a song or an object. Given that nearly

everyone had more than one object, these were usually kept wrapped

up in an animal skin. Consequently, they are referred to as medicine

bundles. The bundles themselves were also considered to be powerful.

Furthermore, you didn’t need to have the bundle in your possession to

pray for help from it.

Among the Inuit—and typical everywhere—“there are amulets for prac-

tically everything, both common ones and those that are strictly special in

their effect.”10 The most powerful ones were obtained from spirit helpers in

dreams or visions, but they could be purchased from powerful shamans


as well. When purchased, the new owner would first have to be accepted

by the spirit of the amulet in order for the power to be transferred.11 This

same rule applied to a medicine power inherited or transferred to another

person. In regard to objects, a shaman’s spirit helper could imbue any

object with power or simply manifest it.12 The Inuit shamans along the

Kobuk River pulled powerful objects from their body for a recipient.13

Among the Haida, shamans robbed graves to retrieve buried amulets,

but only with spirit permission to do so.14 In some cases objects of an

unusual shape, meteorites, and round stones formed by a lightning strike

became personal amulets.15 Those objects seen as having magical prop-

erties or possesing a human-like form, also became amulets.16 Carved

wooden figures served as amulets.17. When power objects were made there

was little concern for how beautiful they appeared.18 One of the main

exceptions to this general rule is the beautiful wood and horn carvings

from the Northwest Coast Area.19 There they even had “secret carvers who

made charms.”20 Once carved, there was always a ceremony held to acti-

vate the power of an object. Powerful amulets were often passed down to

succeeding generations21

I once witnessed the manifestation of a protection stone. A friend that

I introduced to Godfrey Chips received a protection stone from him during

ceremony. It was a small stone. It was sitting on the altar for him at the

end of the ceremony. A few years later he lost his power stone. So the next

time we visited the reservation he asked Godfrey for another sacred stone

for protection. The next morning Godfrey told us to meet him at the sweat

lodge. A fire had been prepared, and the three of us gathered at the lodge

altar along with the “fireman” (tender of the fire).

Godfrey then told my friend to take some sage from the altar and to

roll it into a small ball, which he did, about the size of a tennis ball. He

then handed the ball of sage to Godfrey, who in turn held it at arm’s length

above his head in his right hand and began to pray for several minutes.

After completing his prayers he handed the ball of sage back to him. When

my friend opened up the sage there was a small stone right in the middle

of the ball. Godfrey looked at him and simply said, “Next time it will cost

you four days,” meaning that he would have to go on a four-day vision

quest to obtain another power stone if he lost this second one.

Sometimes power objects came from mythical beings. For the Southern

Miwok in the Mariposa region of central California, the luckiest object was

a feather from O-lel’-le. “This is a bird about the size of a Flicker, but no one

ever had a good look at him. He lives in cold springs, down deep under the

water…Sometimes, once is a great while, a person finds one of O-lel’-le’s

feathers at the spring. This makes the strongest Wep’-pah [amulet] in the

world, and the person who finds it wears it on a string around his neck as

long as he lives and always has good luck.”22 Some shamans had personal

power objects that were visible only to another shaman.23 All such objects

were treated as private property including power songs; they were bought,

sold, and traded. Those power objects or songs that were well-known as

efficacious often commanded a high price. For example, Chief Blackfoot

Old Woman had a medicine pipe hanging in his lodge to ward off disease.

That pipe had cost him six horses.24 Most power songs were connected

with specific ceremonies, and their owners would not sing them outside

of the ceremonial context. This was a problem for early anthropologists

who would often have to bear all the expenses for the performance of the

ceremony in order to hear their songs.25

Again, the form of the object does not matter. Generally speaking, to

know what a charm is does not tell you what it is used for. The Copper

Inuit on the west side of the Northwest Passage use an eagle’s beak charm

for all kinds of hunting. The Inuit in West Greenland use an eagle’s beak

charm only for whale hunting. The Inuit at Point Barrow, Alaska use the

whole skin of an eagle as a whaling charm. It is not the form that counts,

but the observations made by means of any form utilized.

Medicine objects usually gain power over time with use. “The longer an

amulet has been worn, the greater is its power.”26 The more observations

made over time by way of the object, the greater its power becomes. In

addition, power objects were treated as living beings, requiring even more

conscious attention. Because they were also seen as potentially dangerous,

they were sometimes destroyed if their disposition was in question. The

following is a Wintu example.

Short Jim [a shaman] died in the house. He had all his stuff

[sacred objects] there. Before he died he told EDC [his wife] to throw

it in the river or to burn it up. It is best to throw it in a sacred place.

That keeps it from doing harm. They tell it to be good and to turn

into something else. EDC didn’t throw that stuff away…One winter,

a few years ago, everybody got sick. All the doctors got together

for a dance…After that, they decided to send for EDC. Charlie


Klutchie [a shaman] told them to. EDC came. All the doctors went

into trances and Charlie Klutchie was strengthened by the others.

The more doctors there are the better a doctor feels. He told her to

do away with all her stuff. EDC cried. Charlie told her Short Jim

didn’t feel good. He was watching his children (regalia). EDC said

she had put all the stuff away. Charlie looked at her hand and told

her what things she hadn’t destroyed and where they were. He

told her to get it (the regalia) and bring it back to them by the next

night…EDC brought the stuff down the next day in a sack.27

Note here that Klutchie’s strength was increased through the observations

being made by other shamans in the SSC.

As just mentioned, power objects are treated as living beings.

Consequently, they need be “fed” in order to keep their power intact. Early

missionaries noted this feeding requirement and dubbed it the “cannibal

appetite.”28 Nevertheless, feeding, whatever form it takes, is fundamen-

tally a form of observation. Power objects also require purification, usually

by smudging, before being handled. In short, they need intermittent

conscious observation that manifests in various forms. Repeated feeding

and smudging serve to maintain the power of the object, to sustain what

it has become. It matters little what ritual form this takes. The prime

ingredient here is the intent of the observation made on the object at the

time of its feeding. From this point of view there is little understanding to

be gained by analyzing the different forms power objects take or the form

of the feeding rituals that accompany them. The best one can accomplish

from such an analysis is to trace, possibly, the origin and the subsequent

route of transmission of an object, or the rituals associated with it.

A power object not fed simply “dies,” it loses its power. For example,

among the Tanaina in Alaska,

amulet-stones are described as being alive; as a rock with a rattle;

a smooth stone with a flattened stomach and a rounded back which

if put on a table would roll about. They have two little holes for eyes

and another as an anus. They leave a track when they move...

One amulet, seen in the Kachemak Bay area, has passed through

several generations into the owner’s hands. It is of worn, irregular

shape, has the appearance of stone but is apparently not, since it

is light and has something rattling inside of it which is said to be

a young one born about twenty-five years ago. Another, at Kenai,

is more obviously stone and the owner said that it is dead probably

as he has not fed it for over two years.29

At the opposite end of North America, in Florida, the Seminole also

feed their sacred objects.30 It was done everywhere in North America. Dead

power objects could be revitalized through feeding. For example, a Wintu

doctor named Fanny Brown used a feather bundle in her healing ceremo-

nies that had been found hidden away in the mountains by a former “great

old-time doctor.”31

In some cases a sacred object not fed will simply disappear rather

than die. The opposite is also true. Well cared-for objects like their owners

and cannot be lost. “Even if dropped accidentally, they will return to the

possession of their owners.”32 In the worst case a medicine object will

harm its owner. Again among the Wintu it was reported that two individ-

uals had become blind for not properly caring for a rattlesnake charm.33

There are many such examples. On the other hand, an object well-feed,

or a powerful one, will often multiply.34 The basic rule is a properly cared

for medicine object will increase in power over time. One aspect of caring

for them is to keep them free of contamination. In the same manner that

you do not want doubters attending a ceremony, you definitely do not want

doubters handling your medicine objects. There is an account of a white

settler who found a Fox medicine bundle hanging in a tree and opened

it. When the Fox discovered what he had done, they ran him, fearing for

his life, out of the area.35 In some cases an object is gender specific. For

example, Hupa men are not allowed to handle sacred objects belonging

to women.36 Across the board, women on their “moon time” (menstrual

period) were never allowed near sacred objects, let alone to touch them.

The most common method for protecting sacred objects against

contamination was to wrap them up in some manner. Once wrapped,

they were usually stored in a medicine bundle made from an animal skin;

today small suitcases are often used.37 For further protection, the most

powerful objects were usually hidden away from the living areas or stored

in some special manner.38 This is especially true for community-held

power objects in contrast to individually owned objects. The Seminole kept

their tribal medicine bundles hidden “in the woods…in a small wooden


structure, often covered with a tarpaulin…Each bundle contains six or

seven hundred different items.”39 In other cases community power objects

have designated “keepers,” whose job it is to care continually for the object

by properly managing its care. The role of “keeper” is often passed down

through the lineage in a particular family; this is the case for the Lakota

Keeper of their original Sacred White Buffalo Calf Pipe, as well as the

Cheyenne Keeper of their Sacred Arrows.

In my view, this constant attention given to power objects serves to

provide the necessary input of human consciousness to keep them active

in the world. That is to say, this human observation keeps their power

intact. That said let’s look at some individual medicine powers.

Food Medicines

Because survival is so dependent on the constant acquisition of

food, there are many different medicine powers that are associated with

obtaining it. Among the hunters there were powers for locating game,

bringing fish runs, catching whales, calling buffaloes, and disabling

game, to name but a few. For the agriculturalists there were powers for

protecting their crops, controlling the weather, aiding in crop growth, and

harvesting. Iroquois crops were guarded from blight and disease by “the

little people [elves] of the sunshine who bring joy and brightness to the

Indian’s heart.”40 The Iroquois also had other crop ceremonies such as the

After Seeding and Green Corn ceremonies.41 For gathering food there were

powers to bring forth plentiful supplies, to find where the berries were ripe

or nuts plentiful, as well as powers to make you faster at gathering.42 The

Miwok had an “acorn shaman” who could gather acorns at any time of

year.43 There was even a power to make food cook faster.44

Recall that people who were seen to display more than ordinary power

were deemed shamans. So it is not unusual for a hunter to seek medicine

powers and, if successful, he becomes a shaman who has special hunting

powers. Such power is not easy to come by, and, once again, persistence is

the rule of thumb. The following is a typical account, from mid-19th century

Port Simpson, British Columbia, of a Nass River Tsimshian hunter who

sought hunting medicine.

When I was a young man I wanted to be a foremost hunter and

to be wealthy, so I trained. I was then able to get many animals

during the season when their skins were prime and I became

wealthy. I saw shamans hunting when the animals were not prime.

I tried it and got only poor skins, but the shamans always brought

in fine pelts. I was determined to become a shaman also. I told the

foremost shaman on Nass River what I wanted and he agreed to

train me. He told me to first go to the Bella Bella chief and ask him

to give me dancing power.

In the spring I did as the Nisqa [Tsimshian subdivision] shaman

directed. The Bella Bella chief agreed to help me after I had given

him a gift of many marmot skins. He sent me to Kitga’ata to get

power from a shaman there and then to Kitkatla to see two other

men who would give me dance powers. He instructed me to go also

to Gitando, Gilutsau and Gitwilgoats. He gave me the names of the

men to see at each of these places. I was instructed to tell each of

them that the Bella Bella chief had agreed to help me.

I went to the villages and each man sang his shaman power

songs over me and put further dance powers into me. Then I went

home to the Nass [River], and told the shaman what had happened.

He said that I would get power, and instructed me to go to Gitsaxlal

where there was a shaman who specialized in making symbols of

supernatural power for other shamans.

I told him that I wanted a double-headed, folding knife that

I could put into my mouth and it would appear as though I had

swallowed it. I gave him presents of marmot skins and he agreed

to make it. After many days it was finished...

I went back to the Nass. That spring I became ill and I was

still ill when we moved down to the mouth of the river to fish for

olachen. The Nisqa shaman knew that I was now possessed by

the powers and he instructed me to call all the shamans who had

sung their songs over me. They came and gave me more powers. I

had visions in which many aides [spirits] came to me.

I was now a medicine man and when I got well I gave my perfor-

mance [public ritual required for announcing one’s powers] and

showed my symbol of supernatural powers. I was then as famous

as the other shamans, and was able to get prime skins at any time

of the year.45


This is an informative account of a strong will coupled with a focused,

singular goal in mind and heart that is sustained over time through

actions. It is a strong observation that is persistent. These are the ingredi-

ents that bring results to a sustained observation on reality.

Another point I have yet to make is that the goal sought by this hunter

is a product of his times. That is, relating wealth to the acquisition of the

prime pelts is a product of the ongoing fur trade at this time. Medicine

powers are acquired to fulfill individual needs, which, within any culture,

change over time. Consequently, a survey of medicine powers across time

will definitely reveal changes in the types of powers being sought. As

Indian cultures came into contact with traders and settlers our goods

influenced their needs. For example, recall the various powers mentioned

in the last chapter for acquiring whiskey. Every nation had many such

examples. Among the Micmac of eastern Canada there were, eventually,

individuals reported to have powers for finding money, playing the violin,

and making wooden barrels by eye alone.46

As with other activities all hunters sought out power in some manner

to assist in their search for game. Most often it was an amulet, song, or

something of that sort that was called upon. In some cases it was location.

For example, Jack Stewart, an Owens Valley Paiute, was always successful

at getting deer on Birch Mountain because the mountain gave him that

power.47 In another example, the Nez Perce hunters would leave offerings

at a certain tree near Darby, Montana, that contained a ram’s skull with

horns the tree had incorporated into its growth.48 All hunting activities

include various forms of ritual actions in order to procure good fortune.49

Hunting began with purification, prayers, and rituals for success and

ended with rituals for appeasing the spirit of the slain animal. From the

onset to the finish a hunt was a consciousness-imbued undertaking.50

Most hunters began with a sweat lodge ceremony or some other form of

purification. Often a sacred pipe ceremony was conducted at the start of a

hunt. The Omaha pipe ceremony required several hours to recite.51 Also,

hunters had the understanding that “the animals know beforehand when

they are to be slain, when their spirits have been overcome by the hunter’s

personal power or by magic.”52 The hunter must first ask permission to

take the life of an animal before slaying it.53 One of the most common

honoring rituals, once an animal had been slain, was for the hunter to

blow his breath into its nostrils. In addition, since animals could under-

stand human speech, one had to be careful about how he talked about his

prey.54 For example, the name of the animal being hunted should not be

mentioned in conversation lest it hears its name.55

Hunting parties were often led by a shaman. Shamans were also called

upon to divine the location of game or the success of a hunting expedi-

tion.56 Many shamans had powers for disabling game in some manner,

such as causing their legs to cramp,57 putting an animal to sleep,58

causing an animal not to move,59 making buffaloes run in circles,60 or

causing whales to strand on a beach.61 Whales were also called. The

Inupiat of northern Alaska understand that it is their singing and dancing

that brings animals to them. On a deeper level, they will tell you that it is

“the woman who catches the whale…[that] the whale is a spirit and can

hear and smell everything.62” Thus it is that for the largest of game they

use the magical power of a woman to lure it. On the level of interconnect-

edness, “the woman is the whale, is the link. The cycle goes: wild whale,

attraction of the woman, the whale’s willing death, the immortality of

its spirit, its reincarnation the following year, and so on around to the

woman…The actual power of connectedness that Eskimo culture is all

about finally focuses on her.”63

A Jesuit priest once reported, “I once saw a Kootenai Indian (known

generally as Skookum-tamaherewos, from his extraordinary power)

command a mountain lion to fall dead, and the animal, then leaping

among the rocks of the mountain-side, fell instantly lifeless. This I saw

with my own eyes, and I ate of the animal afterwards. It was unwounded,

healthy, and perfectly wild.”64 A Kansa shaman “had deer killed for him

by lightning, and brought them home without a mark on them. He was

finally killed by lightning himself.”65 There was also a Quinault medicine

man whose “power was so great that porpoises and other animals died

before he could hurl his harpoon.”66 The most powerful hunting medi-

cine powers, such as calling forth game or fish runs to a certain location,

were utilized mainly during times of starvation.67 The Blackfeet used a

medicine bundle that required several hundred songs to activate.68 These

highest powers are called upon only in times of greatest need. This is an

important point, because this is exactly what one would expect to see

from a quantum mechanics perspective. When people are starving they

are much more likely to be quite humble and unite in sincere prayers for

food. That translates into a stronger observer effect and, in turn, a greater

probability of success.


Catherine Ogee Wyan Akwut Okwa (The Woman of the Blue-Robed

Cloud) gives the following account of her divination for game location. It

was the first divination ceremony she performed after receiving this power

from a spirit. What is interesting here is this account was given after she

had converted to Christianity (Methodist Episcopal), and is thus a bit

more revealing in detail.

The first time I exercised the prophetical art, was at the strong

and repeated solicitations of my friends. It was in the winter

season, and they were then encamped west of the Wisacoda, on

Brule river of Lake Superior, and between it and the plains west.

There were, besides my mother’s family and relatives, a consider-

able number of families. They had been some time at the place,

and were near starving, as they could find no game. One evening

the chief of the party came into my mother’s lodge. I had lain down,

and was supposed to be asleep, and he requested of my mother

that she would allow me to try my skill to relieve them. My mother

spoke to me, and after some conversation, she gave her consent.

I told them to build the Jee suk aun (Shaking Tent), or prophet’s

lodge, strong, and gave particular directions for it. I directed that

it should consist of ten posts or saplings, each of a different kind

of wood, which I named. When it was finished, and tightly wound

with skins, the entire population of the encampment assembled

around it and I went in, taking only a small drum. I immediately

knelt down, and holding my head near the ground, in a position as

near as may be prostrate, began beating my drum, and reciting my

songs or incantations. The lodge commenced shaking violently, by

supernatural means. I knew this, by the compressed current of air

above, and the noise of motion. This being regarded by me, and by

all without, as a proof of the presence of the spirits I consulted, I

ceased beating and singing, and lay still, waiting for questions, in

the position I had at first assumed.

The first question put to me, was in relation to the game, and

where it was to be found. The response was given by the orbicular

spirit, who had appeared to me. He said, “How short-sighted you

are! If you will go in a west direction, you will find game in abun-

dance.” Next day the camp was broken up, and they all moved

westward, the hunters, as usual, going far ahead. They had not

proceeded far beyond the bounds of their former hunting circle,

when they came upon tracks of moose, and that day, they killed a

female and two young moose, nearly full-grown. They pitched their

encampment anew, and had abundance of animal food in this new

position.

My reputation was established by this success, and I was after-

wards noted in the tribe, in the art of a medicine woman, and sung

the songs which I have given to you.69

In this account the “repeated solicitations” is an indicator of the

sincerity and belief of the people. The “particular directions” are the people

following this medicine woman’s directions in a very focused manner. The

“beating my drum, and reciting my songs or incantations” constitutes the

induction of the SSC followed by a calling forth of her particular spirit.

Once the spirit appears, indicated by the shaking of the tent, a question is

put to the spirit (and recall here that a spirit will first ask why it has been

called). All of these observations are core characteristics of any medicine

power ceremony.

The extent to which people believe in the shaman and the extraordi-

nary results of doing so are found in the following example. Remember

that ceremonial participants are much more concerned with following a

shaman’s instructions during ceremony than understanding what the

shaman is doing. In this example the Haida living at Dorsal Fin Town

on Graham Island were starving one winter. Hence they sought out a

shaman named Sea Lion to bring them food. He held a ceremony and

afterwards said that his spirits had consented to help them, followed by

his instructions on how to proceed. This is also a good example of the

above-mentioned fact that often only the shaman can see a power object.

He [Sea Lion] said, “Tomorrow morning, when I go out, look at

me. Do not let the women look at me.” The day after, he went out

early. He directed them: “In the morning, let all come in front of my

house.” So they did. And they brought the shaman’s [medicine] box

to him. Then he took the cover off of it. And they put a dancing-

apron around him. He said, “Tomorrow the sea will be calm.” It

was calm, as he had said.


Then they put a dancing-hat upon his head. When he was

ready, he said, “Now look at me.” He said, “Do not enter the houses.

As long as I am away, watch the place whither I go.” It was low tide.

Then he went seaward.

They thought that he would stand near the shore. When he

came near the shore, he walked upon the sea. Salgutc!ao spoke

through him. This was a reef [spirit]. Then they watched him. When

he came to Tc!ao-reef, he went down under the waves. They looked

at him for a while when he vanished underneath. They watched

for him.

As he had said, after a while there came a sound like the noise

of a cannon. Then the tide was rising. While they watched, a whale’s

tail came out. And he came out by the side of it, as it lay half in the

sea. Then he came away upon the sea. But when he came up, he

threw something upon them. “All of you take it,” he said to them.

He said to them, “Sit in a straight line” (i.e., one behind another).

So they sat in a straight line. After he had thrown something upon

them, they all seized it. He said to them, “Do as I do.” And they

drew it towards themselves.

While they were doing as Sea-Lion did, the whale went down.

And then it floated upon the sea. Then he danced still more. After

they had pulled thus for a while, the whale came ashore in front of

the town, at the ebb of the tide. They did not see the thing he threw

to them. They did not see the rope that the shaman had fastened to

it. They pulled it with empty hands. Only the shaman saw it. They

did not know what he did. And it (the whale) was left by the tide in

front of the town.

After it was left dry, they went down to it. Then they began to

cut it up. As soon as the women had cut it up, they brought it up

(to the houses)...This town was saved.70

As a final example there was a Cheyenne named Listening to the

Ground who acquired buffalo calling power during the early part of the

19th century, and used a sacred horn and rock in his calling ceremony. The

first time he performed this ceremony he was quite young and performed

it in a special lodge constructed for the ceremony.

He placed the horn on the ground with the point to the east

and told everyone to watch. He said he would sing three times and

asked everybody, when he sang the third time, to look at the little

girl [his daughter] to see if her ear moved as the buffalo calves’ ears

move. The words of his song said, “Buffalo, walk toward this place,

and arrive here.” The third time he sang all watched his daughter,

and saw her right ear move. Then he sang again and she moved

her left ear; she moved her right ear at the words, “buffalo come

toward this place;” and when he said “Buffalo arrive here,” she

moved the left ear.

Listening to the Ground said, “Watch the stone,” and the fourth

time he sang, as the girl moved her left ear, the stone rolled over

very slowly toward the north with its point still to the east.

Listening to the Ground at once said, “Let one man go up on

top of the hill near the camp tomorrow morning. Only one man

must go.” They selected a man to do this...

Next morning, just as the watcher was going up the hill, he saw

a head of buffalo coming toward the camp. He ran back and called

out, “Buffalo are coming...”

The second and third times Listening to the Ground used it

were at the Medicine Lodge...Rising Bull, who died in 1865 at the

age of about one hundred, declared to George Bent that he was

present when the song was sung the second time—the first time

that it was sung at the Medicine Lodge. It was in the afternoon and

no buffalo were in sight. As the song was sung, a herd of buffalo

bulls ran over the hill toward the camp. Rising Bull was a young

man then. Everyone considered it a great mystery...The last [third]

time that Listening to the Ground sang at the Medicine Lodge he

was so old that he had to be carried there...While he was making

the ceremony, he told the people that he had made a mistake and

immediately fell back and died. He died so quickly that he could

not tell the secret of his power.71

Although game-calling powers were used mainly during times of dire

need, we do have at least one account of it being done so on a bet. This was

done by a Lakota medicine man named Goose.


One day a fur trader ridiculed the medicine-man [Goose] [with]

in his hearing. This white man said that all the medicine-men did

was by sleight of hand, and that he would have to see an instance

of their power before he would believe it. Goose entered into conver-

sation with the trader on the subject, who offered him ten articles,

including cloth and blankets, if he would call a buffalo to the spot

where they were standing. Goose sent both the sacred stones [he

owned] to summon a buffalo. The trader brought his field glasses

and looked across the prairie, saying in derision, “Where is the

buffalo you were to summon?” Suddenly the trader saw a moving

object, far away. It came nearer until they could see it without the

aid of the glasses. It was a buffalo, and it came so near that they

shot it from the spot where they stood.72

As there were powers for calling forth game, there were also powers

for producing food. The Tlingit medicine man Nuwat used his power for

berry production. In one instance he used his power to cause a rock slide

in an area in order to encourage the growth of berries at that location.

He was known to have caused salmon berries to grow in three different

valleys.73 The Paviotso medicine man Weneyuga (generally known as

Frank Spenser) was known for his ability to have potatoes appear in an

area of ground he would pray over.74 Red Fish, a Yankton (Sioux) medicine

man would stick a plum branch in the ground and cause plums to appear

on it.75 There was also an Ojibwa shaman who simply had fresh berries

brought to his lodge in the dead of winter by his helping spirits.76 Finally,

here is a similar example from the Ojibwa.

Before there was a settlement at Parry sound, Bill King and

two or three other Indians exhausted their supply of flour and

bacon; but they had four marten skins. One of the Indians was a

conjuror, so Bill and his companions erected a djiskan [shaking

tent] for him. They passed the four marten skins inside the lodge,

and within a few minutes the conjuror produced in exchange for

them a 50-pound sack of flour which his medewadji [spirit] had

brought from Penetanguishene 100 miles away.77

War Medicines

Warfare was a common activity among most Indian cultures. For

example, in the early 1800’s the Blackfoot Confederacy would have from

thirty to forty war parties out at any given time.78 Revenge was the most

common reason for war. In the Plains Area horse stealing was another

major reason, while elsewhere disputes over territory use rights was a

major reason. Warfare was always accompanied by religious activity

(fasting, prayers, songs, divination for guidance, etc.), all in an effort to

secure the use of medicine powers. A major taboo was to never attack

your enemy while they were conducting a sacred ceremony, such as a Sun

Dance. War leaders were often medicine men (discussed below), otherwise

medicine men often accompanied a war party.79 This was especially true

of those medicine men who had the power to stop bleeding, such as Day

Star.80 Consequently, personal war medicines were in particular demand

given the danger of losing one’s life in battle. It is inconceivable that any

warrior would enter battle without some form of personal medicine power

protection,81 however there are a few reported exceptions.82 “A man’s most

important objective before a battle was to make sure his medicine, or

spiritual power, was in working order.”83 Before the Cheyenne set out upon

a warpath “everything is solemn and prayerful, even sorrowful, in order to

gain pity from the supernaturals.”84 Personal protection came in the form of

attire worn, body painting, weapons carried, sacred objects utilized, songs

sung and the like.85 Among the Apache it even included daily conversation

taboos where, once on the warpath, “no common names are used in refer-

ring to anything appertaining to war in any way.”86 Medicine war objects

were treated, like amulets, in a sacred manner. For example, among the

Dakota Sioux “a young man’s war-weapons are wah-kon [sacred], and not

to be touched by a woman.”87

In many cases a warrior had personal spirits to guide him. For

example, Plenty-coups became a powerful warrior following the advice

of the Dwarfs, or Little-people.88 As was typical, Plenty-coups acquired

supernatural assistance to develop into a great warrior, and it happened

when he was only nine years old. In his own words, it was “a happening

[that] made me feel that I was a grown-up man, almost in a day.”

This “happening” was brought about by the news that his beloved

older brother had been killed on a raid against their enemy, the Lakota

(Sioux). He reports, “I knew now that I must dream if I hoped to avenge my


brother, and I at once began to fast in preparation, first taking a sweat-

bath to cleanse [purify] my body.”89 He then left the village without anyone

seeing him and climbed a nearby butte, where he remained for two days

without success. He returned to his father’s lodge, rested and fasted for

two more days, and on the fourth night heard a voice in his dreams that

said, “You did not go to the right mountain, Plenty-coups.”

The next day he started out again, taking with him a buffalo robe.

As soon as I reached the mountains I covered a sweat-lodge

with the robe and again cleansed my body. I was near the Two

Buttes and chose the south one, which I climbed...The day was hot;

and naked I began walking about the top of the mountain crying

for Helpers, but got no answer, no offer of assistance...[However,

that evening a voice from behind called out his name.]...My heart

leaped like a deer struck by an arrow. “Yes,” I answered, without

moving.

“They want you, Plenty-coups. I have been sent to fetch you,”

said the voice yet behind me, back of my head.

“I am ready,” I answered, and stood up, my head clear and light

as air.

The night had grown darker, and I felt rather than saw some

Person go by me on my right side. I could not tell what Person it

was, but thought he beckoned me.

“I am coming,” I said, but the Person made no answer and

slipped away in a queer light that told me where he was. I followed

over the same place I had traveled in the afternoon, not once feeling

my feet touch a stone. They touched nothing at all where the way

was rough, and without moccasins I walked in the Person’s tracks

as though the mountain were as smooth as the plains. My body

was naked, and the winds cool and very pleasant, but I looked to

see which way I was traveling. The stars told me that I was going

east, and I could see that I was following the Person downhill. I

could not actually see him, but I knew I was on his trail by the

queer light ahead. His feet stirred no stone, nothing on the way,

made no sound of walking, nor did mine.

[Finally,] the Person stopped, and I saw a lodge by his side.

It seemed to rise up out of the ground. [This spirit held open the

lodge door and invited Plenty-coups to enter. Herein he was adopted

by the Dwarfs (or Little People) who sat on the north side of the

lodge.] “He will be a Chief,” said the Dwarf-chief. “I can give him

nothing. He already possesses the power to become great if he will

use it. Let him cultivate his senses, let him use the powers which

Ah-badt-dadt-deah [Creator] has given him, and he will go far. The

difference between men grows out of use, or non-use, of what was

given them by Ah-badt-dadt-deah in the first place.”

Then he said to me, “Plenty-coups, we, the Dwarfs, the Little-

people, have adopted you and will be your Helpers throughout your

life on this world. We have no medicine-bundle to give you. They

are cumbersome things at best and are often in a warrior’s way.

Instead, we will offer you advice. Listen!”

“In you, as in all men, are natural powers. You have a will.

Learn to use it. Make it work for you. Sharpen your senses as you

sharpen your knife...We can give you nothing. You already possess

everything necessary to become great. Use your powers. Make

them work for you, and you will become a Chief.”

[When Plenty-coups awoke, it was early morning.] I went over it

all in my mind. I saw and understood that whatever I accomplished

must be by my own efforts, that I must myself do the things I

wished to do. And I knew I could accomplish them if I used the

powers that Ah-badt-dadt-deah had given me. I had a will and I

would use it, make it work for me, as the Dwarf-chief had advised.

I became very happy, lying there looking up into the sky. My heart

began to sing like a bird, and I went back to the village, needing no

man to tell me the meaning of my dream. I took a sweat-bath and

rested in my father’s lodge. I knew myself now.90

Indeed, this nine-year-old did go on in life to become both a great warrior

and chief.

I’ve included this long account because it clearly attests to the central

role of personal will in the activation of medicine powers. Great shamans

are persons of extraordinary great will who attract strong spirits. Great


wills also produce strong observations, whereby a sustained strong obser-

vation can change the course of ordinary reality.

As with other personal medicines, war medicines were individually

owned. Even the design of the war paint on a warrior’s face was personal

property.91 Wraps Up His Tail, a Crow warrior, would point his finger

toward the sun, and then without the use of pigment he would paint his

face with a red stripe.92 Such designs usually came in a dream or from a

spirit during a vision. Among some of the Sioux only four protective war

shields could be made from a single dream design; to make more was

sacrilege.93 Sometimes the designs came in a supernatural manner. For

example, Half Moon, a Delaware warrior whose guardian spirit was the

Sun, “would sometimes hold his bare hands up toward the flaming face of

his guardian, then rub the palms down his cheeks. When he removed his

hands, it was seen that his face, clean before, was now painted in brilliant

colors.”94 Warriors were often grouped into different warrior societies,

and each of these societies also had their own particular war medicines,

regalia, designs, etc. For example, in the Oglala (Sioux) Iku Sapa (Black

Chins) warrior society, “the power of their regalia and medicine was so

great that they were seldom wounded.”95 Although, each warrior carried

his own personal war medicines, they were sometimes shared with fellow

warriors in the midst of battle.96 Like all medicines, each personal war

medicine carried specific rules for the maintenance of its power.

In a few cases there was a war medicine for the entire nation, such as

the Cheyenne’s Sacred Arrows. These arrows were very powerful and peri-

odically empowered through a four-day renewal ceremony by their desig-

nated arrow keeper. “On one occasion, however, a soldier band [Indian

warriors], by violence, forced the arrow keeper against his protest to renew

the arrows at an inauspicious time. The arrow keeper, White Thunder,

prophesied that the next time this soldier band went to war all its members

would be killed. The very next spring when this soldier band went to war

the party of forty-two was surrounded, and they were killed to the man.”97

War medicines also extended to their weapons. For example the

Shoshone warriors possessed a small black sacred stone that when

“rubbed on a bullet or the point of an arrow, the aim of either would

be unerring.”98 The Plains-Ojibwa “also carried medicines in which they

steeped their bullets to make them fatal.”99

The general view was the more protection you had the better. For

example, Poor Wolf, a leading Hidatsa warrior, gathered many war charms.

“At one time, I paid one hundred and eighty buffalo hides, ten of which

were decorated with porcupine work, and knives, and ponies, for a bear’s

arm, a crane’s head, an owl’s head, a buffalo skull, and a sweet-grass

braid that represented a snake with two heads.”100 This view also played

a role in the selection of a war party. For example, among the Ojibwa the

war leader selected “all who had dreamt of wars, or things proof against

the arrow, tomahawk, or bullet,”101 while those who didn’t know many

medicines usually stayed behind.102

In addition to personal protection medicines, war societies and

shamans also wielded war medicines. In fact, many war leaders were

shamans (discussed below). War societies often had a medicine bundle,

the contents of which aided them in battle. Each war leader was respon-

sible for the make up of his war party. What was observed for the Sauk

is common in other nations: “Old and renowned warriors, who had had

much success as partizans [leaders], and whose [medicine] bundles were

credited with correspondingly great powers, usually drew to them large

numbers of young men who aspired to social elevation through reputation

for military prowess.”103

In all probability a major war party would never be undertaken without

first having a shaman look into its outcome.104 Shamans also watched

out for approaching enemy war parties as well. From the perspective of

quantum mechanics, I assume it would be easier to detect an approaching

war party than it would be to predict the outcome of a war expedition. The

reason for this is the detection of an approaching enemy is viewing what

is already happening, while predicting the future is dealing with a prob-

ability. An enemy approaching your home is not a probability. It is a fact.

Remember, shamans can be all-knowing, but not all-powerful. There are

numerous accounts of medicine people who could detect an approaching

enemy.105 For example, there was a Flathead shaman who “was so expert

that no Blackfoot scout ever dared to sit on the hills and spy out the camp

to which this man was attached. During his lifetime the enemy feared

to attack this band. They believed that he actually knew just what was

taking place in a Blackfoot council as if ‘he had a radio there.’”106 On the

other hand, a shaman could predict a successful raid only to have the

war party return home before the attack due to some bad omen along the

way.107


One unusual form of war medicines was a medicine designed to

confuse the enemy.108 Interestingly enough, this was used on whites as

well. For example, we have a 1611 account of a Powhatan shaman using it

on the English. “The English then fell into confusion, grabbing the wrong

ends of their guns and falling over themselves, and they remained in that

state for half a quarter of an hower’ [hour], after which ‘suddenly as men

awaked out (of) dream they began to search for their supposed enemies,

but finding none remained ever after very quiet.’”109

There were also medicines to make the enemy weak, faint, or go to

sleep.110 In the Plains Area where warfare was conducted on horseback,

there were medicines to weaken enemy horses as well, making them

stumble or fall.111 There was a Beaver medicine man whose power enabled

him to blind the enemy.112 There were medicines to hide you from view

of the enemy or to make you invisible.113 A Mikasuki Seminole medicine

man had a small stone that was “used to ward off bullets...When soldiers

came, the medicine man placed this rock in front of his people and sang

(walking) around it four times with a rattle. The rock grew high, but not

very broad, so that if the people stayed behind it the soldier’s bullets

glanced off harmlessly, but if they got frightened and ran out from behind

they got hurt.”114 There was also a medicine power for changing form,

known as shapeshifting, in order to escape the enemy. Some examples

of this include a Seminole medicine man taking the form of a bush,115

an Assiniboin medicine man changing into a buffalo,116 and an Ojibwa

changing into a turtle,117 all in order to escape their enemy. Godfrey Chips

related to me two instances in which he became invisible when hiding

from enemies. Weather control medicines were also brought into play for

covering your tracks, delaying the enemy, etc.118

Finally, there were many different medicine powers to make you

invulnerable to bullets, arrows, and other weapons (covered in Chapter

8).119 Quite often this power would take the form of a sacred shirt worn

to deflect projectiles or a shield to be carried.120 Instances of being hit

and knocked down by a bullet, which did not enter the body due to

one’s power, are commonly spoken of.121 Roman Nose, a highly admired

Southern Cheyenne war leader, had a sacred war bonnet that made him

invulnerable to bullets. “He led the Dog Soldiers [military society]…and on

September 5, 1865, he sought to demonstrate it [his invincible medicine].

First, he led an unsuccessful charge of 1,000 Indians against massed

troops. Then, by himself, he rode the whole length of the troops’ line.

The soldiers shot his horse from under him, but Roman Nose emerged

untouched after catapulting to the ground.”122

With this war bonnet went the tabu that he could eat no food

taken from the pot with a pointed iron utensil...Just before the big

fight with Colonel Forsythe’s command at Beecher Island in 1868,

Roman Nose had been entertained in the Sioux camp. Ignorant of

his guest’s tabus, his host served him fried bread taken from the

pan with a fork. A Dog Soldier noticed it and told Roman Nose.

The fight with the Americans began before Roman Nose was able

to go through his long purificatory rite, so, like Achilles, he stayed

in his tent while the battle dragged on. Finally, he gave in to the

pleas that he come forth to lead his men. He put on his war bonnet,

and while riding up to the battlefield, he was shot and mortally

wounded. He did not even get into the fight.123

Bulletproof medicine has also been recorded for the Chiricahua

Apache.

Old Man S. was with Geronimo’s bunch all through the war...

He has power from the gun, they say. They say he used to get out

on the bank; all the soldiers shot at him and couldn’t hit him. One

who went to shoot him might fall down or drop his gun; then S.

would kill him instead. Another man told me he knows a gun cere-

mony. He, too, went through all the wars safely. Geronimo is said

to have known this ceremony. He never got hurt either. Something

always happens to your gun when you try to shoot at such a fellow.

Your gun jams, for instance. The one who knows this ceremony

can fix it for someone else so that, when he is shot at, he will be

missed.124

In concluding this section I would like to point out that three of the most

famous war leaders were actually medicine men—Sitting Bull, Geronimo,

and Crazy Horse. Sitting Bull’s fame among his own people was more as a

medicine man and, in particular, as a prophet.125 He was knowledgeable

in healing as well, but did not do it that often.126 As a warrior he would

display invulnerability to bullets. For example, in an 1872 battle with


7th Cavalry troops “Sitting Bull strolled to the middle of the battlefield,

within full view of the troopers, sat down, and nonchalantly smoked his

pipe.”127 He also had the power to bring rain.128 In 1888 Sitting Bull told

James Cox, on the latter’s commenting on the lack of rain, “Yes, the crops

need rain, and my people have been importuning me to have it rain. I am

considering the matter as to whether I will or not. I can make it rain any

time I wish, but I fear hail. I cannot control hail, and should I make it

rain, heavy hail might follow, which would ruin the prairie grass as well

as the crops, and our horses and our cattle would thus be deprived of

subsistence.”129

Geronimo was a powerful medicine man who became a war leader due

to his powers. There are accounts of his healing patients with his coyote-

spirit power.130 He also had “ghost power” for curing “ghost sickness,”

and continued these two healing ceremonies into old age.131 “Geronimo

got political power from the religious side. He foresaw the results of the

fighting [as well as foretold the exact time an enemy would arrive], and

they used him so much in the campaigns that he came to be depended

upon. He went through his ceremony, and he would say, ‘You should go

here; you should not go there.’ That is how he became a [war] leader”132

Most interesting was Geronimo’s ability to alter time.

When he was on the warpath, Geronimo fixed it so that morning

wouldn’t come too soon. He did it by singing. Once we were going to

a certain place, and Geronimo didn’t want it to become light before

he reached it. He saw the enemy while they were in a level place,

and he didn’t want them to spy on us. He wanted morning to break

after we had climbed over a mountain, so that the enemy couldn’t

see us. So Geronimo sang, and the night remained for two or three

hours longer. I saw this myself.133

From a quantum mechanics point of view, it seems unlikely that

Geronimo was capable of stopping the earth from spinning. This is more

than likely a spatial relocation account given that shamans are quite

capable of relocating their bodies in space (covered in next chapter).

During one encounter with U.S. soldiers Geronimo found himself

surrounded and outnumbered. In this desperate situation he called upon

his medicine powers and

pointed to a distant mountain, telling his men they should slip

through the ranks of soldiers guarding their position and rendez-

vous on the mountain in four days. Using his shamanic power,

Geronimo called on the spirits for help and a small sandstorm

blew up, stinging the eyes of the soldiers and making it difficult

for them to observe the movements of the Apaches. The warriors

crawled from their hiding places, each holding on to the heel of

the man in front, and in this manner passed between the soldiers,

sometimes so closely that it is said they could hear their breathing.

Geronimo’s amazing feat is still commemorated today in a Fire

Dance song of the Chiricachua.134

Geronimo also used his power to assist his warriors. Instead of using

the traditional Chiricahua form of face painting, Geronimo would mark

his warriors with special symbols “on the forehead, the sides of the face,

and across the nose.”135

Crazy Horse, the great Oglala Sioux warrior, who was “the soul of the

Indian defense of the Black Hills,”136 is rarely thought of as a medicine

man, but was known as such among his own people. As a youth named

Curly, he received a vision of his warrior role from the Thunder Beings. In

his first vision a man appeared on a horse that kept changing colors as

he advanced towards Crazy Horse. “And all the time the enemy shadows

kept coming up before the man, but he rode straight into them, with

streakings all about him, like arrows and lead balls, but always disap-

pearing before they struck him.”137 His vision came to pass such that he

did become famous, not only among Indian people, but the cavalry as well,

for his invulnerability to bullets. Time and again he led his people into

battle without ever once being hit by a bullet. Throughout his life he was

wounded only twice and then by his own people—once by accident when

he was fifteen, and the second time by the outraged husband of a woman

he was pursuing. As Nick Black Elk, who knew him, observed, “it was this

vision that gave him his great power, for when he went into a fight, he had

only to think of that world to be in it again, so that he could go through

anything and not be hurt.”138 This means that Crazy Horse was very adept

at accessing the SSC.


In addition to his powers acquired through visions of the Thunder

Beings, Crazy Horse also had a medicine stone that insured his being

protected from bullets. Red Feather gave an account of this stone.

I knew Crazy Horse ever since I was a little boy. The enemy

killed his saddle horse under him eight times, but they never hurt

him badly. During war expeditions he wore a little white stone with

a hole through it, on a buckskin string slung over his shoulder.

He wore it under his left arm. He was wounded twice when he

first began to fight but never since—after he got the stone. A man

named Chips, a great friend of his, gave it to him. My son, young

Red Feather, has it now.139

He Dog confirmed the efficacy of this medicine stone.

Crazy Horse always led his men himself when they went into

battle, and he kept well in front of them. He headed many charges

and was many times wounded in battle, but never seriously. He

never wore a war bonnet. A medicine man named Chips had given

him power if he would wear in battle an eagle-bone whistle and

one feather and a certain round stone with a hole in it. He wore the

stone under his left arm, suspended by a leather thong that went

over his shoulder.140

Nick Black Elk also knew of Crazy Horse’s stone and said, “When

he was in danger, the stone always got very heavy and protected him

somehow.”141 Chips also possessed a powder made from the dried heart

of the spotted eagle, mixed with the seeds of the wild aster, to be rubbed

over the body before going into battle. Some of the powder he now placed

in Crazy Horse’s wopiye [buckskin pouch containing the stone]. Next he

took the two identical feathers at the center of the spotted eagle’s tail.

One he attached to the wopiye, the other he directed Crazy Horse to wear

in battle, hanging down from his scalp lock [Crazy Horse had already

been directed by his spirits not to wear a war bonnet]. Into the pouch he

placed the eagle’s claws, then from the wing bone, Horn Chips fashioned

a war whistle. If these medicines were used before battle, Horn Chips

recalled telling his friend, “no bullet would touch him.”142 (See Chapter 9

concerning the confusion here between Old Man Chips and Horn Chips.)

Rethinking Indian warfare in terms of quantum mechanics, war raids

can be seen as a single, but continuous, focused observation. From the

moment a raid is announced, all the ceremonial preparations are merely

bits and pieces of a singular, focused observation being made on reality.

All the efforts and focus of concentration on the raid serve to give power

to generating a strong observer effect. There were purification ceremonies

prior to the raid, often in the form of fasting, and prayer offerings to be

made. Certain taboos came into play. Rituals were performed. Ceremonies

were held along the journey and during the battle as well. Upon return,

there were also many rituals to be performed. A war raid was a singular

undertaking with a singular purpose whose success was aided by a great

deal of conscious input through prayer, purification, offerings, taboo

observation, and ceremony, all for a singular end, namely victory. This

singularity of purpose is evidenced in the way they conducted a raid.

Once an encampment was attacked, there was no search for another

encampment to attack. The ceremony had to begin again from the start

for another raid. When a war party was unsuccessful, they would start

anew from their home for their next raid.143 This approach is also a means

of generating a singular, strong observation on reality in order to manifest

a successful result for any single war raid.

I believe their basic method of preparing for a war raid was to bring as

many medicine powers into play as possible, individual powers as well as

group powers. It seems obvious they would choose those warriors with the

strongest medicine powers to lead them, and there is ample evidence that

shamans were often sought out for this purpose.144 This does not apply

to the smaller raids that individuals were allowed to put together, but to

large raids that involved a significant number of warriors. I suspect that

each warrior society was associated with particular powers for warfare,

and their members were committed to learning the ceremonies neces-

sary to activate them. Again, once their powers failed, the society would

soon disband. I would predict that the most common reason given for

failure in warfare was simply, “The medicine powers of our enemy were

stronger.” Finally, I also suspect that many of the early ethnographers

knew what was afoot. It certainly led anthropologist Frank Russell to

make the early observation that “magic…plays a larger part in the warfare


of the American Indian than is generally known.”145 Indeed, I suspect it

played the major role in warfare.

Weather Control Medicines

“Indian rain dances” are without a doubt the most familiar medi-

cine power known to the general public. Up until the last century most

Americans were farmers. Consequently, there are numerous historical

accounts of whites hiring shamans to bring rain in times of drought.146

Rain Thunder Bird, the traditional Ojibwa name of Felix Panipekeesick,

recalled performing this service. “I remember the dry years of 1938 or

1939, I guess. The local farmers helped me out to make a Rain Dance—so

as to make rain. They used to collect money from farmers around here,

and would give me $30 or $40 to make a Dance. They used to help me a

lot...[and] it helped. Every time, you know, when I make a Rain Dance a big

rain usually comes in the next day or two.”147 One of the most interesting

weather control accounts is how a Ponca medicine man, named Sits On

The Hill, saved the Miller brothers’ 101 Ranch in Oklahoma from bank-

ruptcy. He diverted an approaching, heavy rainstorm that was about to

ruin their first ever Wild West Show held on the ranch. For this he received

ten head of cattle.148

Naturally, much more numerous are accounts of shamans bringing

rain for their own people.149 For example, Miguel Thomas recalled the use

of a famous Yuma rainmaker named Siludhaup, who died around 1893.

I remember a time when there was no rain for two years and

the [annual spring] flood was very low. There was very little over-

flow. Everybody got very worried and all the men got together. They

decided to send for this old man who was living out to the west at

the foot of the mesa. He sent [back] a message telling them to place

four bamboo tubes filled with tobacco [offerings] in the middle of

the big shelter where the meeting was held; to build a fire close by

them and let it die away into embers.

When he came to the place hundreds of people had gathered

around. He picked up the tubes one at a time and smoked them

very quickly. He made a short speech, saying that it was the spirit

Turtle (kupet) that had given him the power on the mountain

amyxape (to the west of Pilot Knob). The spirit had shown him

exactly what to do and had told him to think of the Turtle and name

him when he performed the ritual. He commanded the people to

follow him out of the shelter and run in a body towards the north,

raising as much dust as possible. This they did and the old man

went off home. Before he had gone very far there were patches of

cloud all over the sky and rain had fallen in several places. In less

than an hour a heavy downpour had begun which lasted about

four days.150

Perhaps the most famous Paiute medicine man to have weather

control powers was Wovoka, the founder of the “Ghost Dance religion” in

the 1880’s. He had five different weather control songs—“the first brought

on a mist or cloud, the second a snow-fall, the third a shower, and the

fourth a hard rain or storm, while the fifth cleared the weather.”151 Some

shamans could manifest water upon call. There was a Yuki obsidian

shaman who would dig a foot-deep hole and have it fill with water and a

Bungi shaman who made water gush from the center dance pole during a

Sun Dance ceremony.152

When it comes to bringing rain, the songs are really more impor-

tant than the dancing part of the ceremony given their association with

conscious intent. Medicine songs to bring rain were seen as an individu-

al’s property. Frances Densmore was once offered one to buy.

An argument always arises as to price…It is hard for an Indian

to understand why a song that was worth a horse in the old days

should be recorded for the small price that I pay…A Sioux once

offered to record a song that would break the drought. He said the

dry summers would not have occurred if the Government had let

the Indians sing their rain songs. He said the song would “work”

for me as well as for an Indian, and he wanted $50 for it. According

to him, the song was cheap at that price. Needless to say, I did not

record the song and the drought continued.153

Producing rain is but one form of weather control and Indian shamans

also have powers to control snow, fog, wind, and other aspects of the

weather as well.154 Bringing heavy snow to entrap animals for easier


hunting or bringing a fog to allow one to escape from the enemy are such

examples. Also known were medicine powers to control the temperature,

making it cooler or warmer.155 Survival was associated with weather in

many ways such that weather shamans were likely to be found in every

nation. Some nations called upon a particular weather spirit. For example,

the Quinault used Atamantan to stop rain, however this spirit had no

control over snowfalls.156

Weather control was seen as such a common activity among the Creek

that it actually appeared in their laws. On January 7, 1825, Chilly McIntosh,

son of Creek Chief General William McIntosh, put to writing for the first

time fifty-six laws. The 45th law reads, “If any person or persons should

blow for rain or poisen [see footnote] they shall not be interrupted.”157

Although this law prohibited stopping a rain making ceremony, it did not

restrain them from stopping the shaman. There is a report from 1775 of

a famous Creek rain-maker who was shot dead because his ceremony

caused the river to overflow, destroying their harvest that year.158 Other

Creek shamans specialized in preventing the dew from falling or making

swollen streams subside.159

The Plains nations have a specialized technique for dealing with rain.

They use a sacred pipe to split the clouds apart.160 Cloud splitting was

well-known throughout the eastern section of North America as well.161

Godfrey Chips’ mother, Victoria, spoke of its use.

We have an old house [on our land]. This house was built in

1903. It’s old but I think we’re rich because we’re living in a real

old house. It’s not new, but it’s sacred. It’s always been a cere-

mony house and we love it. We pray for the house wherever we

are, Massachusetts, New York, Canada. Wherever we are, every

ceremony time, we pray for the house.

There’s a spirit that watches on the outside. Whoever comes up

the road with bad thoughts to vandalize the house, to break the

windows, then the spirit is out there walking around. And they

know that nobody is here but there is somebody [heard] walking

around. They get scared and they turn around and they leave. So

there’s a spirit that watches…

When the thunderbeings are going over there and it’s going to

rain, then Godfrey stops it. He splits the clouds [with his sacred

pipe]. One goes that way, the other goes south. We don’t get no rain.

All summer it’s been dry, dry because our roof leaks. Godfrey’s

able to tell it not to rain, wait until we get our roof fixed and then

it could rain whenever.162

While in most cases rain making ceremonies were distinct from

other ceremonies, such is not the case for the Navajo. Their approach is

to perform ceremonies that will reinstate the proper order of the world

to its original state of beauty. “This state assures good crops, beautiful

flowers, and fat livestock.”163 Consequently, their rain bringing ceremony

is a segment of a larger ceremony, with the addition of prayer sticks that

symbolize rain.

Also recall that weather control was used for warfare and raids. There

is the account of Ben Tciniki, a Stoney (Assiniboin) weather shaman who

used his sacred pipe to bring rain so they could successfully steal horses

from the Blackfeet.164 Another account has a Pauite “wind doctor” bringing

forth wind to cover their tracks in an escape from the enemy.165

Wyagaw, an Ojibwa shaman on the shores of Lake Superior had a

medicine power for controlling the weather as well as for changing shape.

Once, while on a war-raid against the Fox, Wyagaw and comrades were

surrounded on a small island.

But when Wyagaw saw that they were hemmed in, he called a

thick fog and turned himself and his men into saw-billed ducks.

In that form they made a dash to get through the enemy in the

fog; and when the ducks could not take them fast enough under

pursuit, he turned himself and his men into muskalonge. In that

form they all reached the mainland; but Wyagaw and one of his

men who was lame, were captured, while the rest escaped.166

Wyagaw was then taken back to the Fox camp where he refused to

reveal his medicine power songs to the Fox, who were well aware of his

powers. The Fox then decided to burn Wyagaw on a scaffold as was their

custom of treating prisoners of war.


Before putting Wyagaw on the scaffold, they offered him the

[Wyagaw’s] medicine rattle once more. Suddenly he made up his

mind to take it...and he began to sing his [medicine] song. When

he had thus got his power into his hands; he climbed the scaffold.

All at once the sky turned black; it was so dark the people looking

on could hardly see each other. The scaffold broke down with a

crash. Rain fell in torrents, the lightning flashed, and it thundered

terribly. The Fox were filled with dread and begged Wyagaw to

calm the storm. After a while it began to clear and slowly became

fine again.

The Fox decided to send Wyagaw homeward with an escort of

ten men...after that the Fox troubled him no more.167

When medicine powers are assumed to be real, one should expect to

find the most intense rain making ceremonies occurring where crops are

grown in the most arid area. So it is that rainmaking ceremonies are most

prolific and time consuming in the arid Southwest Area. Every pueblo

had many rainmaking societies. The Zuni alone were known to have

fifteen different rain societies.168 These were powerful ceremonies such

that at Zia the Kapina shamans could even make it rain in the ceremonial

room.169 During the summer one society would enter a ceremonial house

and conduct an eight-day ceremony. When they were finished, another

society would take up their rain-bringing ceremony. Four days prior to

the beginning of a ceremony the participants must make prayer stick

offerings and observe certain food taboos. Sexual absence is also a rule.

During the ceremony

they remain night and day in their ceremonial room. No outsider

enters but the woman of the house who serves their meals. There

are frequent sessions of prayer and song, especially during the

hours between midnight and dawn. The Uwanami [spirits] are

invoked, and the deceased priests of the order are called by name.

All are believed to be present. On the fourth day, at dawn, prayer

sticks are offered to the ancients, and after that the minor priests

are free, except for the restriction on sexual activity for four days

following any offering of prayer sticks. The four principal priest-

hoods remain in seclusion for four days longer. At the dawn on the

eighth day they come out, and that same evening the set [society]

next in order goes in.170

These are extremely complicated rituals. Central to these ceremonies

are their sacred prayer sticks. Here is a Hopi example.

Such a prayer bearer [offering] with symbolic attachments is

called a paho, and as if to betray its meaning in its name, the

exact translation of this word is the water-wood, the wood which

brings the water. These prayer sticks have many different forms,

but are always called by the generic name, water-sticks. As their

form becomes complicated by reason of symbolic accessories, their

manufacture is an act which takes time, and as the prescribed

symbols are known only to the initiated, their construction gives

rise to a complex series of secret rites. The paho itself is a sacred

object, consequently whittlings from it, fragments of string, corn

husks, or feathers, used in its construction, are also sacred and

must not be profaned. They are, therefore, carefully gathered up

and deposited with a prayer in some sacred place.

The simple act of breathing a prayer on a pinch of meal is all

sufficient in an individual’s use of prayer meal, but in the compli-

cated paho this simple act is insufficient in their belief. The prayer

bearer intrusted with the prayers of a community of priests must

be laid on an altar, smoked upon, prayed over, and consecrated by

song before it is deemed efficacious. The production of this altar,

the fetishes which stand upon it, the formal rites attending the

ceremonial smoke, and the character of the songs thus develop

each its own complex series of rites. Lastly, even the casting of the

meal has led to complications. The paho must be offered to the god

addressed in a dignified manner worthy of its object and the care

used in its consecration. A special courier carries it to a special

shrine. He is commissioned to his task with formal words, and he

places his burden in the shrine with prescribed prayers. It has thus

been brought about that the manufacture, consecration, and final

deposition of the elaborate paho or stick to bring the rain occupies


several hours, and when repeated, as it is in all great ceremonies

for several consecutive days, makes a complicated series of rites.171

Rain Medicine Objects

Quite often the control of weather involved the use of a power object

during the ceremony, such as the sacred pipe mentioned above.172

Throughout North America there were many different rain-making objects

used, all in different ways. On the west coast a Yokuts weather shaman

named Sinel used plumb bob shaped stones and Jake Hunt, the Klikitat

shaman who founded the Feather Cult, used eagle feathers.173 Southern

Paiute weather shamans received their power through dreaming and were

known to have used a diamond-looking crystal found where lightning

strikes the ground as well as a bow and arrow.174 Small Ankle, a Hidatsa

medicine man, used two human skulls.175

Wood taken from a lightning-struck tree was utilized by the Wintu.176

The Yavapai shamans of the Southwest used a medicine necklace,

consisting of stone or glass beads, to make wind, rain, or hail.177 The

Iroquois shamans use specific masks as well as wampum belts (usually

a form of money) to control the weather.178 The Delaware shamans used

a weasel skin.179 The Mikasuki Seminole have a jug-like object called the

“Twins’ Plaything” used for rain making as well as diverting the course

of hurricanes. It is also used to ward off bullets during warfare.180 The

neighboring Cow Creek Seminole use a special pot to stop the rain.181

A Cherokee shaman used an egg-sized garnet that “sparkled with such

surprising lustre, as to illuminate his dark winter-house, like strong

flashes of continued lightning, to the great terror of the weak, who durst

not upon any account, approach the dreadful fire-darting place, for fear

of sudden death.”182

Undoubtedly the most famous objects associated with rainmaking are

the snakes of the Hopi Snake Dance. This is a long ceremony, known as

the Snake ceremony. The first official ritual occurs sixteen days prior to

the start of the Snake ceremony. The ceremony is then preceded by eight

days of purification and prayer offerings. The ceremony itself lasts for

nine days. The most spectacular part of the ceremony, the Snake dance,

occurs on the afternoon of the ninth day when the Snake Society dancers

release their captured snakes and proceed to pick them up, place them

in their mouth and hands, and dance with them. The first published

account of this ceremony appeared in 1884 by John Bourke, who had

watched it at Walpi on August 12, 1881. He reported that in former times

“all the Pueblos had the rattlesnake-dance, and carried snakes in their

mouths.”183 Originally the Snake ceremony was performed every other year

by the Snake and Antelope societies to control the enemies of the Hopi.

Thereafter, it became a ceremony for the production of rain “to save their

corn and peaches, beans and squashes, and other crops that mean life to

the Hopis. Rattlesnakes, bullsnakes, gartersnakes, and any snakes they

can capture are believed to be messengers that will carry the prayers.”184

Notoriety came to this unusual dance mainly through the efforts of Fred

Harvey, originator of the Harvey House restaurant chain at train depots.

He advertised for tours to this dance in the early 1900’s, and took bus

loads of tourists there to view it. Writer Hamlin Garland observed it earlier

during the mid-1890’s and was most impressed by it. “For an hour I had

been carried out of myself,” he wrote.185

The most detailed account of this long ceremony comes from anthro-

pologist H. R. Voth, who was the first white person to be allowed to witness

it at Oraibi in August, 1896.

The dancer having been handed a snake, placed it between

his lips and moved slowly forward being accompanied by another

priest who had placed his arm around the dancer’s neck, occu-

pying, as it were, with his snake whip, the attention of the snake,

warding off the latter’s head from the dancer’s face as much as

possible. As soon as these two had described the circuit in front of

the kisi the snake was dropped and picked up by the third man.

The two again approached the kisi, received another reptile and

went through the same performance. The gatherers held some-

times as many as four, five and even more snakes in their hands,

and it has been observed that on several occasions a dancer would

take more than one reptile at a time between his lips.186

“Occasionally a big rattler did coil ready to fight as soon as released, but a

few motions of a snake whip [held by the dancers] caused it to uncoil, and

the gatherer, with a sudden grab, snatched it up.”187


One of the little-known difficulties of this dance is the fact that a

dancer may not spit. Voth reports: “I have been told by a Snake priest

that they are not allowed to expectorate during the whole performance

outside of the kiva, but have to swallow any sputa that may collect in

their mouths, even while holding the snakes. They say if any one should

step on their sputa or in any way whatever come into contact with it, he

would be affected by the peculiar snake charm; i.e. some part of his body

would swell up and if not discharmed, burst.”188 All persons attending

this ceremony who are not initiates of the Snake society are susceptible

to this ailment. For that reason all of the observers, at the conclusion of

this nine-day ceremony, hum the discharming song together known as

náwuhchi tawi.189

As with all sacred objects, there were specific rules and rituals that

needed to be followed for rain-making objects, for their handling, empow-

erment, feeding, storage, and use.

I will end this chapter with three detailed accounts of weather control

that exemplify the variety of this medicine power.

Rain for Gold

Charles S. Graves lived along the Klamath River in northern California

(Siskiyou county) during the late 1800’s to early 1900’s. From an early age

he became interested in the Indians of the area and witnessed a Brush

Dance as early as 1875. Eventually he became the county Attendance and

Probation officer. In 1929 he privately published his experiences over the

years with the Klamath River Indians. I suspect this is a somewhat embel-

lished account of a rainmaker from that area named Big Ike.

The “old timers” along the Klamath river still talk about the

flood of 1889 and 1890. They will tell you how the river rose day

by day, carrying away houses that had been built on the bars and

flats along the banks of the stream, and how the whole mountain-

side started sliding toward the river. Some of the old timers know

that if it had not been for one dishonest white man there would

have been just the amount of rain needed for mining, and no more,

and no damage would have been done.

In those days the mining operations depended on the weather.

If it was a dry season, the claims on the high ground could not

be worked, for the reason that they must have enough water to

hydraulic and fill the sluices, and sometimes there would not be

enough rainfall to enable them to work their claims. At such a time

the merchant would credit them for food and supplies enough to

tide over another season.

Now, just before the flood the miners were worried, as were also

the merchants. No gold had been taken out, and there was no sign

of rain. The Indians heard them complaining and asked them why

one of them didn’t make rain.

The white men thought the Indians were trying to be funny at

their expense, and were inclined to resent it; but the Indians were

serious about it, and told them that if there were no white men

among them who could make rain, the Indians had one man on

whom they always depended in time of need to make rain for them,

but that their rainmaker had never made rain for the white people.

The whites told the Indians to try to get their rainmaker to

talk to them. They soon returned with Big Ike, a giant of a man,

who told them he could make rain; that he had made rain many

times for his people, but never for white men; that the whites never

did what they promised, and thought that if they could cheat an

Indian it was the proper thing to do.

There was one white man who had always been fair and honest

in his dealing with the Indians. He told Big Ike he would see that

the miners paid the rainmaker and there would be no cheating.

Whereupon Big Ike told them he would make rain enough for them

to work all winter, that much and no more; but that he had some

doubts about making rain for white people; that no good would

come out of it. However, he agreed to make rain for twenty dollars

paid to him by each miner, they to pay him when the rain began to

fall, and the bargain was made.

Big Ike told the miners he was going up to Medicine Rock, and

for them to stay back, as he didn’t want any white man around

when he was making rain medicine, as Indian medicine never

worked if white men interfered in any way. He told them that there

was a small cave in Medicine Rock; that he would be in that cave

for three days; that at the end of three days it would begin to rain,


and then he would come out, collect his money and return to the

cave and regulate the rain and see that the miners had just enough

for a winter’s run.

Now, the average white man would say, “What is that old Indian

trying to pull off? Make rain! We are in for another dry season.”

But then, the average white man doesn’t know anything about an

Indian rainmaker.

On the afternoon of the third day the clouds began to gather

and before night it began to rain. Big Ike thought it would be well

to let it rain all night, and then go down and collect the money the

miners had promised him, for by that time they would know that

he had made the right kind of rain medicine. He had no trouble in

collecting the twenty dollars from each miner except one. The last

one he called on was a new-comer and not very well-known to the

other miners, and was working a claim that he had jumped while

the owner was away. He refused to pay, and told Big Ike that he

had nothing to do with making rain; called him a savage and his

wife a squaw.

Big Ike returned to Medicine Rock to brood over the injustice of

the white man’s act. There he talked to the Rain God: “The White

man has never understood the Red. If the Indian makes rain for

the paleface he is told that it just happened; he is never given credit

for anything he does to help the white people; he is called a savage,

and his wife a squaw; my children don’t like to hear their mother

called a squaw; the white men along this river have no Rain God.

You have listened to my prayers while I made rain medicine, and

have allowed only enough water to come through the clouds to

furnish enough water for them to work. This is the first and only

time an Indian has asked his Rain God to help the paleface; and

what is his reward? He is refused what is rightfully his; he is

treated like a dog, and is called a savage and his wife a squaw! In

order that this dishonest miner may know I am the rainmaker who

made this rain, I am asking you, O Rain God, to open the clouds!

Let the rain come through until this dishonest paleface has had

his ground moved from under him and carried away by the flood

waters of the river; and if you see fit, let him go with his claim, even

to the great ocean.”

While Big Ike prayed to the Rain God he made the rain medi-

cine stronger. The clouds were opened, and it was now raining as

it had never rained before. The Indians who were living at the foot

of the mountain went up to Medicine Rock and tried to persuade

Big Ike to stop the rain, as they feared they would lose their homes.

He told them to go back, that this rain was going to fall until such

time as the paleface miners were willing to pay him in full; that

even though he was, in the eyes of the white man, a savage and his

wife a squaw, they would have to come to him there at Medicine

Rock before the rain would stop.

They said: “We stand to lose everything we have, all of our

winter supplies, our dried eels and acorn meal; we can catch more

eels and gather more acorns, but we also have ‘white man grub’

that we cannot replace.”

Big Ike replied: “Now you go home, take my advice, and

sharpen some good strong stakes and stake down your houses; for

as each day goes by it will rain harder until the white men come to

Medicine Rock, and are willing and ready to proclaim to the world

that Big Ike, the Rainmaker, can make rain when he promises to

do so, and must be paid for making this rain. Then, and not until

then will the rain cease.”

Knowing that Big Ike would continue to make rain until the

whole mountain-side would slide into the river, they hastened to

get help from the miners, telling them that the Rainmaker was in

an ugly mood; that their homes were about to be carried away; that

if the rain was not stopped soon the mountain-side would surely

go; that there would not be a mine left. The miners, after consulting

together, decided that they would go up to Medicine Rock and try

and reason with the Rainmaker. They called to Big Ike, telling him

to come out of the cave and talk to them. The Rainmaker said, “I

will not go out and talk to you; I have talked with you one time;

your talk has proven to be crooked; Big Ike always talks straight

and he doesn’t understand crooked whiteman talk. Maybe so if

that white man who refuses to pay me is made to pay, and you will

do as I say, I will stop the rain. I now know that Indian rain medi-

cine was never intended for white men. Go back to your claims

and make that white man, who said that I did not make this rain,

pay for the trouble that you have all been to, and when you are


through, tell him to leave this camp and never return. I am Big

Ike, the Rainmaker, and no savage, neither is my wife a squaw.

Tell that white man to sharpen one hundred stout stakes and drive

them into the ground. I see that the mountain has started to slide

already. You will have to hurry before the slide gains momentum,

otherwise, the stakes will not hold the slide back.”

The miners went back to where the one who had refused to pay

was at work, and told him what the rainmaker said, telling him

to get busy making and driving the stakes, and to be sure that

he drove each stake down until it would hold, and to drive them

until there would be no further danger of a slide. He started to

object, telling the miners that was nothing but Indian talk, that

if the Indian rainmaker wanted the mountain-side staked down

he would have to do it himself. A few choice “cuss words” from

the miners soon convinced him that he had better get to driving

stakes, and so soon as the last stake was driven, to leave camp for

all time.

If he had not driven the stakes when he did the mountain-side

would be bare of ground today. As it is, the stakes are still holding

it. The dishonest miner left, never to return.190

A Tornado For Fear

Weather shamans still exist, and I would like to give a more recent

account of one such shaman. His name was Rolling Thunder, of Cherokee

and Shoshone descent, but he grew up in the white man’s world with a

career as a railroad worker. During the latter part of his life he acquired

medicine powers and set up a camp near Carlin, Nevada. He became

famous through Doug Boyd’s Rolling Thunder, published in 1974. Mickey

Hart, drummer for the Grateful Dead, was one of his main benefactors.

Rolling Thunder had a number of medicine powers in addition to weather

control, such as healing and divination. Boyd witnessed several demon-

strations of Rolling Thunder’s ability to control the weather, and devoted

one chapter in his book to a rainmaking ceremony.

In this account we hear from John Welsh, also a white man, who had

come to know Rolling Thunder before Boyd meet him. Welsh had seen

Rolling Thunder stop rain once, and also related the following incident to

Boyd.

Did I ever tell you about my first meeting with Rolling Thunder?...

Our first meeting was accidental, before I became involved with

Indian People or Indian affairs. I was going through Oklahoma

on my way back to Kansas City and I knew that a friend from

Ireland was there attending an Indian meeting, so I decided to

look him up. The meeting was crowded and the faces unfamiliar,

but I ran into a young Indian guy I knew. We looked around and

he pointed to an Indian across the hall saying that this man was

Rolling Thunder and that I should go over and ask where my

Irish friend might be. I went up to this man and asked him if he

was Rolling Thunder. He only looked at me. I told him who I was

looking for and waited for him to say something. Finally he said

some funny-sounding gibberish that I could hardly understand. I

though he didn’t speak English. My Indian friend came over and

we stood there for a minute. When he realized what was going

on he told Rolling Thunder that I was a friend. Rolling Thunder

apologized in perfect English and said he was just being careful.

When I told him I was on my way to Kansas City, he told me he was

going to Leavenworth to see about a Shoshone youth imprisoned

for refusing to be a soldier for the U. S. government. He asked me

if I would take him there.

Rolling Thunder had talked about this incident at Council

Grove. He said he’d gone to a meeting of chiefs and medicine men

in Oklahoma. Before he left, his people had asked him to bring

back a young Shoshone who had been sentenced to five years in

Leavenworth Prison for refusing to go to Vietnam. The Shoshone

treaties guarantee that the Indians will not be drafted. Rolling

Thunder was determined to bring the boy home where he belonged...

I took Rolling Thunder in my car and we got up to Leavenworth

in the late afternoon. Rolling Thunder walked right up to that gate

and said that he had come to get this man and take him back to

Shoshone country. They wouldn’t let us in. In fact, they wanted


us to go away, but Rolling Thunder was persistent. Finally some

prison officer came out and talked to us. He told us it would be

impossible to visit our friend. Rolling Thunder said he had come to

get someone, not visit. They took us inside a room and we waited.

Finally another officer came in and told us that the man he had

come to see had been transferred. Rolling Thunder and I left, but

we weren’t ready to give up, so we stayed in a nearby motel.

In the middle of the night, Rolling Thunder began talking

loudly. It woke me up. When he saw that I was awake he looked

at me and said angrily that he had been lied to, and now he was

prepared to do things his way. He said that if they could use lies

to accomplish what they knew was wrong, he could use fear to

accomplish what he knew was right. When I asked him what he

meant, he told me that he had just been inside the prison and so

he knew the boy was there. Then he told me to go back to sleep

quickly because we would be up before sunrise and then I would

see his plan.

It seemed a few minutes later that Rolling Thunder was moving

about in the room and telling me to get up so we could be down at

the river before the sun appeared. We went down to the bank of

the Missouri River where Rolling Thunder built a fire and started

putting a lot of strange things in it. He lit his pipe and smoked it for

a while and then he began weird chanting. He handed me the pipe

and told me to smoke. I had no trouble doing that, even though the

smoke was very strong, but when he asked me to chant, I thought

that would be impossible. He insisted I follow him and somehow,

at that time, I was able to do it. We chanted and smoked for a

long time while Rolling Thunder kept putting things into the fire. I

didn’t know how or when he had gotten those things.

After a while the small fire started producing an intense black

smoke which rose straight above the fire and hung high in the

air. It grew blacker and blacker above our heads. Then there was

thunder—loud and frightening! It seemed to start very far away

and come right up against our heads. I could actually feel it. Then

black clouds were moving all across the sky and they collected

right above us. It got so dark that the flashes of lightning were bril-

liantly white. The lightning was all around us, and it made sharp,

crackling sounds.

Right in the middle of all these goings on, Rolling Thunder put

out the fire and told me to walk with him. We got up over the bank

and started walking. I kept turning around and looking back; the

sky was clear all around us except for one big black cloud which

came down to a point right above where we had been. It looked just

like a funnel.

When we reached the prison gates Rolling Thunder shouted at

the guards in a really powerful voice. One of them rushed inside

and returned with some officers. They kept telling us to go away,

and Rolling Thunder kept saying he wanted the Indian youth. He

told them he had seen him in there, so he knew right where he was.

They all looked surprised, but they still tried to force us to leave.

Rolling Thunder pointed back to where we had come from and

you could see that black funnel in the sky. He told them to watch

it and they did, because it was coming right for us. This was his

tornado, he told them, and it was about to rip the whole prison

wide open. The funnel moved slowly, but it kept getting closer and

closer. Everyone just watched until it was nearly on us, and then

some of the people went rushing inside. Sand and rocks started

flying through the air, but none of them hit us. Nothing hit me,

anyway. I could hardly stand up and I had difficulty seeing. Rolling

Thunder appeared calm and steady, and he had his eyes on the

prison gate. Pretty soon the gate came flying off, you could hear

it rip loose. It went flying through the air, spinning around and

around. The prison officials brought out the young man. There was

no formality—nothing. They just let him go. He went back west to

Shoshone country. As far as I know, he’s back home still.191

Raining On An Ego

This last account happened to me when I first met Wallace Black Elk

in August of 1978. He came to Ashland, Oregon, where I was teaching, to

teach jointly a one-week class following the end of our summer session.

Around fifty students signed up for the course, and Wallace arrived

from his home in Denver only a few hours before the first class meeting.

However, we had already planned through phone calls to build a sweat

lodge and then conduct a sweat lodge ceremony. I located a site on a


nearby farm along Bear Creek, the largest creek running through the

valley area. The owner of the land was a kind Mormon who had an interest

in American Indians and was delighted to have us hold the class there.

This first meeting with the class was at the college, where they were intro-

duced to Wallace, and given directions to where the class would meet for

the remainder of the week.

I was not prepared to really say anything about Wallace to the class,

having just met him myself. So after I handed out a map to the site and

gave them the schedule for the week, I turned the class over to Wallace.

He spoke for about an hour then opened up the class for questions. At one

point a female student asked him, “Mr. Black Elk, what do we wear to the

sweat lodge.” Much to my surprise he answered, “Oh, that birthday suit,

that suit you were born in.” I knew enough about Lakota ritual to know

that they were very shy about nudity. So his answer was really a hidden

lesson for this student. Soon there were no more questions, and the class

was dismissed. However, a few students remained behind to ask even

more questions, so I returned to my office telling Wallace to meet me there

when he was finished. That was at 4:00 p.m., and he walked into my office

at 6:30 p.m. It was then I got my first lesson in “Indian time.”

The next morning I was awakened early by a phone call from the Dean

of Faculty’s secretary telling me that I needed to get to his office imme-

diately. When I walked in, he was fuming. What was I up too, anyway? A

very disgruntled father had called the college saying he was going to sue

them because his daughter had to get naked in my class in order to get

a grade. I told him that I would take care of the matter, and not to worry

about it. When I met Wallace at the field site, I told him we were already in

big trouble with the Dean. He simply said, “Oh, it’ll be okay.”

We spent the next couple of days preparing the area and building a

sweat lodge, with intermissions to listen to Wallace speak. Finally, on the

fourth day, we were ready to heat up the rocks and go into the sweat lodge.

All the students were to wear bathing suits. Once we had lit the fire, I

asked Wallace how long it would take to heat up the rocks. He said that it

would take several hours. So I told him that I was going to make a quick

trip back to my office to finish up some registration problems, etc. and

would be back within an hour or so.

In all my preparations, I had overlooked one important item, namely, a

fire permit. Ashland is surrounded on three sides by timber-laden moun-

tains that easily catch fire during the dry summers of that region. For that

reason the Forest Service requires a permit from anyone who wants to

start a fire. Once they lit the sweat lodge fire the smoke was soon spotted

from a nearby mountain watchtower. When the Forest Service discovered

that there was no fire permit for that area, two rangers were dispatched to

check out the situation.

Shortly after I left the site, the two rangers arrived in their forest

service truck only to see about fifty half-naked students running around

in a field. One ranger got out of the truck, instructing the other ranger to

remain near their radio until he found out what was going on.

The ranger came over to the students, and asked who was in charge.

They pointed to Wallace. The ranger then went over to Wallace and asked

him to see his fire permit. Wallace, not having a clue as to what was going

on, asked him why they were looking for a permit. The ranger began to

explain the danger of the situation. Wallace’s immediate response was,

“Oh, no! This is sacred fire. No harm ever come from sacred fire.”

Then the ranger, surrounded by students, proceeded to tell Wallace

that he had to go to their headquarters and get a fire permit. The more the

ranger pushed on Wallace, the worse became Wallace’s English. “Permit,

what that word mean?” After some time of hassling with Wallace, the

ranger finally gave up and said, “Okay, I’ll write out a temporary permit

for you.” Well, he could have done this in the first place. However, by then

he was too late. Already a cloud had begun to form over the site, in a

cloudless sky. As the ranger started to write out the permit, a downpour

began. He couldn’t write on his permit paper it was raining so hard, so the

students held up a tarp over his head as he stood there in this downpour

writing out a fire permit.

By the time I returned, the cloud and rain were gone. However, the

students were very much excited by the event and hastily showed me the

large wet circle left behind by the rain.

About three years later, I was telling one of my classes about this inci-

dent. In fact, it was the first time I had ever spoken about it in a subse-

quent class. I had not seen this ranger, so knew nothing of him. However,

much to my surprise an older, female student came up after the class was

over and said, “Do you know who that ranger was?” I told her that they

had gone by the time I had returned. She then told me that it was her

husband, and that she remembered the incident because she was oper-

ating the radio at the Forest Service headquarters when the call came in.

She also told me that her husband had called in after leaving the site and

Spirit Talkers

merely said that he had taken care of the situation. He had never said

anything about it raining, and she thought that was a bit strange, as did I.

I asked her if she would arrange for me to speak to him about the inci-

dent, since I had not seen it for myself. At our next class meeting she told

me that he didn’t want to talk about it. So three years later this ranger

had not only never told his wife about the incident, he still refused to even

talk about it!

As to Wallace’s prediction (“It’ll be okay”), that came a few months later.

After the class ended, my friend who had introduced me to Wallace and I

wrote up a submission for the class to be entered into a North American

(U.S. and Canada) contest for class creativity that was being conducted by

the North American Association of Summer Sessions. Subsequently, this

novel class won the west coast division and went to the final level. Much

to my surprise, it also won first prize at that level! My Dean flew to the

awards ceremony to accept a plaque on behalf of the college. Thereafter

everything was fine such that Wallace and I continued this summer class

together for many years thereafter. Those classes eventually led to Wallace

establishing the first Sun Dance, in Ashland, that was for all other races

as well as Indian dancers. It continues to this day.

Chapter 6 Page 195

Chapter 6

The First Men on the Moon

We were lawless people, but we were on

pretty good terms with the Great Spirit, creator

and ruler of all. You whites assumed we were

savages. You didn’t understand our prayers. You

didn’t try to understand. When we sang our praises

to the sun or moon or wind, you said we were

worshipping idols. Without understanding, you

condemned us as lost souls just because our form

of worship was different from yours.

We saw the Great Spirit’s work in almost everything:

sun, moon, trees, wind, and mountains. Sometimes we

approached Him through these things. Was that so bad?

I think we have a true belief in the supreme being, a

stronger faith than that of most whites who have called

us pagan. Indians living close to nature and nature’s

rulers are not living in darkness.

Did you know that trees talk? Well they do. They

talk to each other, and they’ll talk to you if you listen.

Trouble is, white people don’t listen. They never learned

to listen to the Indians so I don’t suppose they’ll listen to

other voices in nature. But I have learned a lot from

trees: sometimes about the weather, sometimes about

animals, sometimes about the Great Spirit.

— Tatanga Mani (Walking Buffalo), Stoney, 1871-1967

Shamanic Flights

Henceforth we are going to focus mainly on those individuals who

had more medicine powers than held by most people, the shamans. As

discussed in the previous chapter, it is possible for a person to have a spirit

helper and not be seen as a shaman. This is the case for spirit helpers who

bring a small power. It is also the case for those who had as much power


story has been the same—the longer since first contact the fewer their

medicine powers.

In the following chapters the various abilities of shamans have been

grouped according to the different uses of medicine powers. Since any

shaman can carry many different medicine powers, shamans cannot

be neatly fitted into any single category. It is merely for organizational

purposes that categories are being used here in the first place. We will

begin with the flights of shamans.

Let’s start with one of those questions that are never asked when you

believe medicine powers are merely superstition. Where does one find the

largest concentration of flying shamans? The answer turns out to be quite

pragmatic. Shamans are best known for their flying abilities where game

is most scarce and hunting territories are the largest—the Arctic. One

rarely reads of Inuit power ceremonies in which the shaman does not

take to flight during the ceremony, at least levitating a bit, if not actually

flying about or out of the ceremony house.7 On flights out of the ceremony

house, they will either relocate their consciousness in space or they will

bodily fly out of the ceremony house. Both forms of flying are well-known

among these people, with the latter form seen as requiring more power on

the shaman’s part. Throughout the Bering Strait region many shamans

“possess the power of visiting the moon.”8 Thus it appears that our astro-

nauts were not the first to make a visit to the moon.

There is a detailed account of the difference between relocating one

consciousness in space in contrast to one’s body. At the end of the 19th

century there was a Tikerarmiut medicine man named Asetcuk living

near Tigara, on the north coast of Alaska. He was famous in the area

for his ability to take to flight. Around 1880 he was making a visit to

friends on the Diomede Islands, when they asked him to take a shamanic

flight to St. Lawrence Island, around 250 miles to the south. His host was

concerned as to the whereabouts of his son, Ungoariuk, who had taken

reindeer skins to St. Lawrence for trade, but was overdue in his return.

Asetcuk consented to help his host.

To do this, he chose a certain evening, instructed all the people

of the camp to remain indoors and to keep their dogs tied. Then

he had his host tie him up in his usual manner when flying. He

always removed his trousers and parka and arranged one of his

as other shamans, but did not use it professionally.1 Powerful shamans

can enter into the SSC at will allowing them to manifest exceptionally

strong powers through their spirit helpers. To this end “a shaman seldom

initiates anything important without praying and singing to his power and

waiting for a sign or a response.”2 Their social recognition comes through

special names given to them, such as doctor, sacred or holy person, etc.

Quite often the name reflected their particular ability, such as the rattle-

snake doctor, whose power was to cure snake bites. Shamans are always

seen as special persons whose power may be exhibited even in death.

For example, Tlingit shamans were buried above ground in small grave

houses. It is reported that their bodies never decomposed, instead they

shriveled up like a mummy. One of the last powerful shamans of the 19th

century was Tekic. His corpse was so powerful that every blowfly that lit

on Tekic’s body dropped dead. His hair and claw like nails continued to

grow. When they repaired his decaying burial house his fingernails “were

said to have grown clear through the board on which he lay.”3

Shamans can also exhibit special physical abilities. One time when

Wallace Black Elk and I were visiting Godfrey Chips’ home a strong storm

blew onto his property pelting us with rain. One of Godfrey’s house trailers

began to rock, and two women jumped out of it just as the wind tipped it

over. The last woman didn’t quite make it out, and the trailer fell on top

of her. However, she fell next to a motorcycle, and ended up being pinned

under the trailer as opposed to being crushed by it. Wallace ran over and

immediately lifted up the trailer as the first woman helped the trapped

victim out from under the trailer.

Shamans are to be found in every American Indian culture at any point

in time. Even when shamans went underground during the heavy accul-

turation period, field anthropologists still suspected they were afoot.4 With

the increase in doubt concerning such powers among their own people,

along with conversion to Christianity, most of the old medicine ceremonies

did fall by the way over time. It is in the Southwest Area in isolated regions

where they have held out the longest. However, by 1940 at Jemez Pueblo

it was reported that “the increasing skepticism of the semi-acculturated

native audience was so resented by the performers of magic that is seems

probable the ceremony never will be repeated.”5 At the northern end of the

continent among the Tiagra of Point Hope, Alaska, “the old taboos were

no longer followed; it was the Christian minister who said a prayer at the

opening of the whaling season.”6 Anywhere between these two points the


one-eyed man that his son was all right and would return. Very

soon he did arrive at the Diomedes. When he saw Asetcak he said

he had seen his face in a vision at the skylight of the house on St.

Lawrence. So everyone knew he [Asetcak] was a great angatkok.9

Details of this account follow quantum level rules. For example,

Azetcak begins by accessing the SSC via drumming, and I suspect the

participants were singing as well. The unexpected lighting of the ceremo-

nial room broke the focus of concentration such that Asetcak got a false

start. A second break in concentration happened when his adze head

got stuck. Most interesting, is the use of “breath” to bring him down at

the end of his flight. People “who have no spirits” are not people without

power. Such details inform us that the ceremonial participants are an

important aspect of the observer effect, and that a continuous focus of

concentration is crucial to the success of any power ceremony. From this

perspective, the presence of doubters at Asetcak’s first flight might have

prevented his bodily flight to St. Lawrence. That is, shamans rarely act out

of fear as stated in this report, especially in regard to ceremony, such that

Asetcak was probably not all that concerned about it being “dangerous to

expose too much of one’s power.” Recall that this report was written at a

time anthropologists were using psychoanalytic terms to understand and

describe shamans, a viewpoint that failed by the 1970’s. Therefore, such

projections were in vogue, especially given the fact that Azetcak would

not be telling anyone he was hiding his powers from others. There is a

common taboo among medicine people that they rarely talk about their

powers, especially to nonbelievers.

In most instances, as is the case here, one gets the notion that the

shaman doesn’t have a lot of control over his flying about. Father LeJune

made record of a Montagnais shaman who rose up in a ceremony and

disappeared. “Later that day his robe was found. A few days later he [the

shaman] returned, exhausted and unable to say where he had been or

what he had done.”10

Also to be noted is the binding of the shaman. This is an ancient, wide-

spread shamanic technique associated with the Shaking Tent ceremony

(discussed below), the Lakota yuwipi ceremony, Inuit ceremonies and

others ceremonies to be covered in the chapters to come.11 It is the spirits

who set the shaman free from these bindings, usually leaving the original

reindeer socks in the position of a gee-string. Then he put a boy’s

trousers over his shoulders, and had his hands tied behind him,

with one end of the binding thongs attached to some heavy object

like an adze head. The lights were dimmed and he “got his power”

by walking around his drum. But this first night he did not actu-

ally fly to St. Lawrence. It would be dangerous to expose too much

of one’s power in the presence of other angatkoks [shamans].

However, bound in readiness for flight and in possession of his

power, he was able to see what was happening in St. Lawrence. He

reported that the boy [Ungoariuk] was all right.

Of course, the ceremonial participants understood that Asetcuk had

not used his full power because he had not flown from the room. That

planted a seed of doubt. Sure enough, the next day Ungoariuk’s father

saw an ill omen, and Asetcuk was called upon to make yet another flight.

Given this show of confidence, Asetcuk did not hold back on his second

flight.

On this occasion he was so anxious to start that he wasted

no time. When one of the supposedly extinguished lamps in the

house flared up the people saw him already in the air. Of course

he then dropped back again. After another false start, when his

dangling adze head caught on a pan near the skylight, he finally

was off through the ventilator shaft. He always flew with one knee

drawn up and arms outstretched; in the air wings sprouted from

his shoulder blades and his mouth grew to extend outward and

up to his tattoo markings…Later Asetcak reached St. Lawrence

Island. After circling the houses to peer in through the skylights

he saw Ungoariuk lying on the floor of one of them. Asetcak placed

his face close to the skylight so that Ungoariuk could recognize

him.

When Asetcak returned to the Diomedes, his power was so

strong he could not descend. He had to fly around inside the house

so that the breath of all the people inside “who had no spirits” could

help him “get down.” After that he was unconscious for awhile, but

the people put his drum into his hands and gradually he restored

himself to his normal condition by beating it. Asetcak told the


Spirit flights such as these are well-known among the Lakota. Frank

Fools Crow related such an account.

In 1916, there was a celebration in Rapid City [SD], and four

white men and some Indians, including two medicine men—

Standing Elk and Chases the Spiders—came over to join in the

celebration. These two medicine men were noted for performing

feats of magic, and the crowd, delighted at their arrival, asked

them to put on a show. The Indians asked what they would receive

for their efforts, and after some negotiating a fee of fifty dollars was

agreed upon.

Then Chases the Spiders (since spiders are thought of as evil,

the name really means Chases the Evil Away) stepped forward,

and the crowd formed a huge circle around him. He removed his

beaded leather belt, tied his sacred medicine stone to it, rubbed

the belt with sage, and placed the belt gently on the ground. In

less than a moment it became a live rattlesnake, which started to

crawl away while the crowd screamed and drew back. But Chases

the Spiders caught it and picked it up, still writhing. It turned into

a belt once again, and to the great relief of the astonished crowd he

put the belt back around his waist.

Then Chases the Spiders pointed to a place some distance away

and said he was going to go over there, whereupon he immediately

disappeared. Everyone looked for him, and not finding him turned

toward the place he said he was going. They saw a man there who

was jumping up and down and waving his arms to attract their

attention. He looked like Chases the Spiders, but they couldn’t

believe he was. So they sent a group over there to find out, and

it was he. Those Indians went home with fifty dollars’ worth of

groceries.16

Note they did not go home with fifty dollars. They went home with

groceries. “When Chases the Spiders did his magic at Rapid City, he told

some of the people there that he needed food, and had been praying all

the way over for it, asking God to let him have some fun that day so as to

earn what he needed. God honors us in such instances, so long as we do

not abuse the privilege.”17

knots in the rawhide strips. If the shaman wants the spirits to untie him

more quickly, then he asks for the bindings to be tied tighter. The more

the shaman suffers, the more pity the spirits take on him, and, thus, the

more quickly they unbind him. Michael Harner, in his experiments with

binding, has come to this same conclusion—binding works.12 This tech-

nique extends to charms as well. For example, Chief White Wolf described

a bear-shaped charm designed to ward off illness caused by an evil bear

spirit. The legs on the bear were tied with a string “to keep the cause of the

disease tied or in an inactive state.”13 An interesting variation of binding

occurs among the Kutenai. There the shaman is bound with rope by the

spirits versus being bound by his ceremonial assistants.14

I believe the difference between a medicine man relocating his

consciousness in space instead of relocating his body may be spirit

related. The spirit helpers facilitate flight. The same seems to hold true for

individual journeys to the spirit world. For example, during a vision quest

it often happens that spirits will pick up the person and take him on a

journey. This happened to Wallace Black Elk when he was only five years

old. They held a ceremony for him in which the spirits carried him off into

the “Universe of universes.”

Then those spirits started swinging me back and forth and

threw me across the [ceremony] room in the dark. Another pair of

hands caught me. They tickled me and threw me back. They kept

doing that, and on the forth throw they threw me right through the

ceiling. I sailed through that ceiling right out into the solar system.

Now that’s scary! I could see all those stars around me, and they

were showing me the powers of the universe.15

Godfrey Chips told of a time he took his father, Ellis, up to the top

of Eagle Nest Butte to vision quest. One the way up the butte, Ellis told

Godfrey to pick him up at Rattlesnake (or Snake) Butte. Godfrey simply

thought he had made an unconscious mistake, and returned to Eagle

Nest Butte at the appointed time only to find that Ellis was not there. So

he drove over to Rattlesnake Butte, where he found Ellis waiting on him.

Consequently, Ellis had known ahead of time that the spirits would take

him on a flight.


They dug a large hole, tied his feet and hands, and placed him in the

hole during the night. They put a buffalo robe over the hole, and atop that

placed a large stone that took many men to move. On the stone four heavy

boulders were placed on each corner.

I sat in the hole under the rock; my hands were tied behind my

back by the wrists, and my fingers were tied together with a bow-

string. The rope from my wrists ran over my shoulders and tied my

feet together at the ankles. My upper arms were tied tightly to my

thigh bones. All the ropes were tied tight—by people who did not

believe that I could do this thing. I sat there, with my face toward

the rising sun (east). For a little while, after I was put in the hole, I

seemed to know nothing that was happening. Then I heard some-

thing moving by my side, and I looked, and there was the little

man. He patted me on the back and sides, and said to me, “Why

have they got you here?”

I answered him, “The people think they are going to be in

trouble, and they want help.”

The little man said, “Shut your eyes.” I did so, and the little

man slapped me on the sole of my right foot, and then on the sole

of my left, and took me by the hair and seemed to pull me up a

little. Then the little man said, “Open your eyes.” I did so, and

found myself standing on the ground in front of the big lodge.20

Although most flights were for the purpose of gathering information,

sometimes they were practical. For instance, Creek medicine man David

Lewis reported that his father would often refuse a car ride to town, only

to be seen in town once the car arrived there.21

Other reports of a shaman’s abilities to fly include the ability to cover

large distances in a short amount of time. The Isleta and Nambé Pueblos

had “Bear men” who could quickly travel great distances both below

ground and in the air.22 Johnny Monday, a Paiute, had power from the

dove spirit. He was once observed to travel 140 miles on foot in one day.23

Shamans who fly can also change their shape, and often do so

during flight. Inuit shamans are well-known for this ability. For example,

Stefànsson gives an interesting account of a shaman who became small

enough in size to slip through a wooden ring the size of a napkin ring.24

An unusual variation of the shaman’s flight is recorded for the Sekani

of British Columbia. Among the Fort McLeod band this medicine power

was known as anatok, while among those living near Fort Grahame it was

known as senidje. These words seem to have no translation, but one infor-

mant called it “air medicine.”

It was an intangible thing, like air, or wind, pregnant with

medicine power like an animal, but infinitely more potent. It would

squeeze a man between its “hands” and place him in a big kettle

strewn with feathers to keep his body warm; and it filled him with

such explosive force that he shot through the air like a bullet from

a gun. One man at Fort McLeod who had acquired this medicine

chanted the formula he had learned (it consisted of meaning-

less syllables), and was immediately shot across the lake into the

woods on the far side. Some hunters sought him the next day,

and found him lying on the ground, half dead. Another man was

carried out of sight and did not return until two years later, when

his brother, who was hunting groundhogs, found him on a moun-

tain side, strong and well…Another medicine, called ixwasi, that

closely resembled it, caused its possessor to fly through the air like

a bird, or like a tiny transparent man.18

Those at Fort Grahame give a slightly different account whereby this

medicine power “struck a man between the shoulders like a gust of wind,

or caught him by the hair, and flung him many yards over the ground. He

lost his wits [entered the SSC], and in that condition received instructions

and medicine power.”19

Sometimes a flight comes in the form of a power performance or power

display (covered in Chapter 8) like that of Chases the Spiders. One such

account comes from the famous Cheyenne medicine man, White Bull, who

was also known as Ice. He received his powers during a vision quest at

the age of fifteen from a spirit he called “the little man.” Many years later,

in 1867, he gave a medicine power performance while camped with the

Sioux at Rosebud, SD. His spirit had told him that in the future he was to

perform this particular feat, so this performance was in response to his

vision of years earlier.


séance from the distant ocean and would not appear unless the shaman

cuts himself in two.”32

Apart from this general pattern, there are also forms of divination

that do not depend on contact with spirit helpers. However, they are rare.

For example, both the Wailaki and Southern Paiute used a string figure

to divine the sex of an unborn child. When tied, this string figure would

result in one of two different patterns, one pattern being associated with a

boy and the other with a girl. “The secret lies in the separation of the two

parallel strings on the radial side of the little fingers. If the top string is

placed on the index fingers, a ‘boy’ figure results; if the bottom string, a

‘girl.’ The strings are so twisted, however, that it is impossible to tell which

is the true top string, and not merely the apparent top. Even knowing the

key it is frequently not possible to produce at will either figure.”33

I would like to note here that string figures are also found along the

west coast of North America where some figures are associated with

spirits. “Among nearly all Eskimo tribes there were various supersti-

tions concerning string figures…From Kotzebue sound, in Alaska, to

Kent peninsula, at the eastern end of Coronation gulf, there was a taboo

against playing the game except in the winter, when the sun no longer

rose above the horizon.”34 The making of certain figures accompanied by

the proper chant can drive off an evil spirit.35 “In Alaska…many stories

are told about this spirit of string figures, which could even become the

guardian spirit of a shaman, albeit a shaman can die in the process.”36

In 1915 Diamond Jenness observed a divination ceremony in which the

people were told of the death of two men, in which one of them had been

“killed by the spirit of the Cat’s Cradles [string figure].”37 Jenness reports:

“The natives of North Alaska and the Mackenzie delta believe that the

opening stage in certain cat’s cradle figures, or a development from it

called ‘Two Labrets,’ has the power of driving away this spirit if performed

more rapidly than the spirit itself can perform. The man who just died, it

was said, had been defeated by the spirit in the contest.”38

The Kwakiutl also make string figures, several of which are associated

with certain spirits. For example, their “Padding under Coppermaker”

string figure is associated with a sea spirit known as “Wealthy” and the

“Double-Headed Serpent” figure is associated with a spirit that will cause

one to faint upon seeing it.39 As elsewhere, a specific chant usually accom-

panies the making of each string figure.

Divination

Divination techniques are used for answering questions, be it from

the past, present, or future. In the earlier records it is often referred to

as conjuring. Divination is essentially any process in which you use “the

unpredictable to predict the unpredictable.”25 Combine this with human

imagination and “divination is whatever practitioners call divination.”26

We normally know them as “psychics.” Parapsychologists have long

confirmed the ability of psychics, while the FBI has been keeping records

on authentic ones for decades.27 Divination requires one’s consciousness

to travel to a different location and/or time where they psychically see

what is going on, or to obtain such information from a helping spirit.

Sometimes the shaman travels in a different form, usually that of an

animal. Consequently, most shamanic flights can be seen as one form of

divination.

Prophesy was common, including that of the coming of the whites, and

even the time of Pocahontas’ return from England was correctly divined.28

Willie Neal, an Apache medicine man, predicted that “iron objects with

eyes that see in the night” would be commonplace long before automobiles

made their first appearance.29 Divination is also used to find the location

of game, detect approaching enemy, to locate lost objects or persons, and

other such useful information. The records clearly indicate that informa-

tion gathering is one of the most frequent requests made of shamans.

Shamans use divination for their own protection as well as the benefit

of others. Unlike the popular spiritualistic séances of the 19th century,

Indian divination “must not be done too frequently, or just for fun, or to

show off.”30 As to be expected, Indian divination took many different forms

in North America. However, like amulets and charms, it is not the form

that counts so much as it is the consciousness put forth by the individuals

doing the divination. Regardless of form the pattern is always the same—

the shaman always begins by accessing the SSC.

Quite frequently a spirit is called forth to answer questions from an

audience. Spirits of dead relatives are also often called forth.31 This form

of divination can be accompanied by various power displays (covered in

Chapter 8). Sometimes the spirit actually requires the shaman to perform

a power display before it will appear. For example, this was the case for

the Colville “To Be Cut In Two” ceremony whereby a “spirit-fish came to the


The blindfolding of a shaman during divination is common. Among

the Labrador Indians, the person asking the question would be blind-

folded.43 The Dakota diviners would cover their head with a blanket.44 In

the summer of 1767 Johnathan Carver attended a Cree divination cere-

mony in which the shaman was rolled and tightly bound into a large elk

skin with rawhide ropes around the outside. The purpose of the ceremony

was to find out for Carver when expected traders were to arrive. The bound

shaman was then placed inside an oblong enclosure of upright stakes in

the ground, all of which were inside a tent.

After having remained near three quarters of an hour in the

place, and continued his vociferation with unabated vigor, he

seemed to be quite exhausted and remained speechless. But in

an instant he sprung upon his feet, notwithstanding at the time

he was put in it appeared impossible for him to move either his

legs or arms, and shaking off his covering as quick as if the bands

with which it had been bound were burned asunder, he began to

address those who stood around in a firm and audible voice. “My

Brothers,” said he, “the Great Spirit has deigned to hold a Talk

with his servant at my earnest request. He has not, indeed, told me

when the persons we expect will be here, but tomorrow, soon after

the sun has reached his highest point in the heavens, a canoe will

arrive, and the people in that will inform us when the traders will

come.”45

The next day, long before noon all the Indians were gathered on

the eminence that overlooked the lake. The old king [chief] came

to me and asked me whether I had so much confidence in what

the priest had foretold as to join his people on the hill and wait

for the completion of it. I told him I was at a loss what opinion to

form of the prediction, but that I would readily attend him. On this

we walked together to the place where the others were assembled.

Every eye was again fixed by turns on me and on the lake when,

just as the sun had reached his zenith, agreeable to what the priest

had foretold, a canoe came around a point of land about a league

distant.46

A more wide-spread form of divination is scapulimancy in which a

bone, often the shoulder blade, knee cap, or hip bone, is heated. The

resulting cracks in the bone are then “read.” This technique was used for

locating game and predicting the future.40

Divination is also used to find thieves.41 We have one rather humorous

example of a prisoner used to find a thief. Around 1700, Seth Southwell,

the Governor of North Carolina, had his warehouse broken into and goods

stolen. The culprit’s tracks were recognized as being Indian, and having

gone in the direction of Indian Town, a nearby Tuskeruros settlement. The

Governor sent word to the town that unless the thief was turned over to

him, he would take a course of action they would not like. Soon thereafter

they brought in the thief, and the Governor put him in chains.

As it turned out, this thief was their only shaman who was capable of

divining. Shortly thereafter, they had a robbery in their own village, and

returned to the Governor to ask that the shaman be allowed to find their

thief. The Governor consented upon the condition that the man’s chains

would not be removed for the ceremony.

The Conjurer ordered three Fires to be made in a triangular

Form, which was accordingly done; then he was hoodwinked

[blindfolded] very securely, with a dressed Deer-Skin, two or three

doubles, over his Face. After he had made some Motions, as they

always do, he went directly out of one of those three Gaps, as

exactly as if he had not been blindfolded, and kept muttering to

himself, having a Stick in his Hand, with which, after some time, he

struck two Strokes very hard, upon the Ground, and made thereon

a Cross, after which he told the Indian’s Name that had stolen the

Goods, and said, that he would have a Cross on his Back; which

proved true; for when they took and searched him, there appeared

two great Wheals [elevation of the skin], on his Back, one Cross the

other; for the Thief was at Governor Southwell’s House, and was

under no Apprehension of being discovered. The Indians preferred

to sell him as a Slave to the Governor, but he refused to buy him;

so they took him bound away.42


Two-Wolves sent his servant [ceremonial assistant] to tell him to

come right away. When he had come he was greeted heartily by

Two-Wolves and placed beside him. “I am glad you have come. Now

I want to say that my father says you are the man that killed

Roving-Coyote’s horse.” “Yes,” said Two–Bears, “I know now that

you are a wonderful [powerful] man. I did what you have accused

me of. Ah! My friend,” said he to Roving-Coyote, “you know how

trying your horses are sometimes, and we lose our temper and

are sorry for it afterwards. I did kill your horse with a picket pin,

but I did not think you would find it out. I have nice ponies, and

you may have your choice for my deed”...Two-Wolves lived a long

time, doing good work, discovering thieves, and prophesying many

wonderful things.48

Things Lost

It was common to call upon a shaman to find a lost object or person.

By the late 1600’s even the English of Virginia believed that Powhatan

shamans could “find any lost article except a Bible.”49 When looking for

something lost the shaman usually performs a specific ceremony, but we

also have reports of a spirit appearing in a dream to give the location of

an item.50 The Washo diviner would sit quietly smoking “until the location

of the desired article was revealed to him.”51 Generally speaking, however,

the shaman relies on a spirit to find something lost. For example, the

Shasta shamans used the sun spirit to find lost things because “he can

look around any place.”52 The location can also be acquired in a dream.53

Finding something lost is not always a sure thing, or at least one has

to be persistent. For example, there is the account of Mountain Chief, from

the Blackfeet, who paid a Kutenai shaman to find his two lost horses.

The shaman had to call in several spirits before the horses were finally

located.54 As expected, doubters also contribute to failure. Parsons gives

an account of a Zuñi seer who could only tell his client when some lost

money would be found instead of where it could be found because the

client did not believe in the his spirits.55

In rare cases a psychotropic plant was used by shamans for divi-

nation. Among the Chemehuevi in southern California the root of the

Datura plant was utilized. “In the dreams or visions which it induced the

The men in the canoe reported that the anticipated traders had

departed three days before and that they would be there in two days,

which also happened.

In February of 1781 near Louisville, Kentucky, three white men

(Richard Rue, George Holman, and Irving Hinton) were taken captive by

a renegade white man named Simon Girty, who led a party of thirteen

Indians. The men were taken to near Detroit where they remained captive

for three years. Eventually they planned their escape. However, prior to

their escape they had witnessed a divination ceremony to find some stolen

money, so they decided to pay this “soothsayer” to do a divination cere-

mony on the welfare of their respective families. Is so doing the shaman

not only reported on their families, but also foresaw that they were plan-

ning to escape. Rather than informing their captors, he then detailed the

hardships they would encounter during their escape and long journey

home. Of course the men denied any intentions to escape, but upon their

success they found his predictions to be chillingly accurate.47

Shamans also helped to solve crimes. Take, for example, the early 19th

century Arikara shaman named Two Wolves. Strike Enemy reported an

incident that happened among them to a man named Roving Coyote. He

discovered that someone had killed one of his horses. However, no one had

seen it happen, so Roving Coyote went to Two Wolves and asked him to

perform a ceremony in order to find out who had killed his horse.

Two Wolves accepted the request, but first sent one of his assistants

to announce throughout the camp that he was going to find out who had

killed Roving Coyote’s horse. This was in the hopes that the culprit would

come forth, but he didn’t. Strike Enemy reports:

The crier repeated this over and over. When all had heard he

went into the lodge again. While the ceremony had been going on

black clouds rose in the west, and “Ah ho! Ah ho!” was repeatedly

said by Two-Wolves. “Now my father [Thunder spirit] is coming.” He

called again for the man [culprit] to hurry, saying there was no use

of secrecy and that he should know. Another call was given, and

the Thunder was heard in the distance. Two-Bears [the culprit] did

not believe that Two-Wolves could learn anything from Thunder,

and so would not come. Thunder told Two-Wolves that Two-Bears

was the man who killed the horse. When Two-Bears did not come,


differentiated very much among the three means of divination, all being

interrelated; the emphasis on one or the other doubtless depended upon

the diviner’s power.”66 Consequently, in some cases, all three techniques

might be called upon. In one such case they were searching for a lost

child. A shaman was brought in to no success. Then stargazers and hand-

tremblers were brought in. For seven days they followed their directions

again with no success. Finally on the seventh day a listener was brought

in who told them the child would be found in a specified canyon one mile

from its mouth. On the eighth day the body of the child was found, but two

miles from the mouth of the canyon.67

Power objects other than crystals were used in divination ceremo-

nies. The sacred Living Solid Face mask (Misingw) that belonged to the

Delaware was used to recover lost things.

If anyone loses horses or cattle, either strayed away or stolen,

he can go to the keeper of the Misingw with some tobacco as a gift

and get them back. He explains his errand to the keeper, who in

turn informs the Misingw that they want him to look for the horses

or cattle. The loser then goes back home, and after a few days the

missing animals return driven back by the Misingw, who if they

had been tied or hobbled by the thieves, frightened them until they

broke away and came home.68

The Twana had a wooden figurine that shamans used to find lost

objects, about four feet in height and shaped in the image of their “little

earth” (dwarf) spirits. It had a handle on the rear side to hold it by. Among

the Chehalis band this figure was called a caxwu. Once a spirit calling

song was sung over the caxwe it would become animated of its own accord

and moved about, dragging along its bearer. When in use, the handle

on the caxwu would became hot, often blistering the hand of the person

holding it. When not in use, it was kept wrapped in cedar bark and hidden

in the woods.

Around 1870 Lighthouse Charley sought out a medicine woman named

Lawiqam, who had a caxwu, to assist him in searching for gold hidden by

a deceased wife he had deserted years before. This wife had taken three

to four thousand dollars in gold when he left her for another woman. Over

the next seven days they followed the caxwu around the area, crossing

whereabouts of lost articles might be revealed, or the name of an enemy

who was employing evil magic. Always the ‘east root’ was taken for this

purpose, and its removal was accompanied by an apology for the resul-

tant disturbance to the plant and a request for the desired information.”56

Datura was also used by the Southern Paiute to find lost objects.57 The

Zuni use Datura to find thieves.58

The Navajo have three different types of diviners: hand-tremblers,

stargazers, and listeners. Those “with-motion-in-the-hand” are the most

common form, while listeners are the rarest form. Although hand-trem-

blers are numerous, the ceremony was actually learned from the Apache

sometime after 1860. In all cases the shaman divines while in trance.59

They also have a divination ceremony that involves the use of Datura. This

form of divination is known as “Frenzy Witchcraft,” and is used mainly

to locate thieves or to trace stolen goods. Hand-tremblers use a ceremony

that calls upon the Gila Monster spirit.60 Most often hand-tremblers are

called upon to diagnose illness, but they also answer questions. “As soon

as the hand-trembler begins to sing, and sometimes even before, his hand

and arm begin to shake violently. The way in which the hand moves as

it shakes provides the information sought.”61 The most common format

is when “the diagnostician seats himself facing the patient. He closes his

eyes [and enters into trance]. He holds out his arm. He thinks of all the

possible causes of the illness. When the ‘correct’ cause ‘comes to his mind,’

his arm involuntarily shakes.”62

Father Berard Haile, missionary to the Navajos and scholar of their

language, gives an interesting account of a female hand-trembler from the

Tsaile area who diagnosed a sick woman. Her technique was to extend

her hand and when it began to shake, it would “then cause her to make

some kind of a figure in the sand or soil.”63 In this case she reported that a

certain medicine man (Navajo “singer”) had put something into the medi-

cine given to the woman that made her worse. This caused a large group

of Navajos to catch this medicine man and attempt to hang him.

Stargazers (also called “crystal gazers”) and listeners use the spirit

of Coyote for their divinations. Stargazers also use the Gila Monster

spirit.64 One of the main differences is stargazers get their information

visually, while listeners hear their information.65 “Listening is nearly, if

not quite extinct…Gazing may be accompanied by trembling; usually the

diviner sees the chant symbol as an after-image of the heavenly body [sun,

moor, or stars] on which he is concentrating. I do not believe the Navaho


The search ended up lasting seven days with no more luck in locating

the rest of the gold. Eventually the caxwu indicated that Charley’s wife

had thrown most of the gold into the bay. However, in several drags of a

net in the designated area of the bay they only came up with some rags

the gold had been wrapped in. So that gold probably remains there to this

day.73

This account of a week long divination effort to find lost gold using two

power objects is informing. Finding the gold takes the form of tracing the

movements of Charley’s wife over the years, from hiding place to hiding

place. Many of the holes dug merely contained other items belonging to

his wife. The point is, the caxwe, in all cases, located objects, all of which

had been handled by this woman. This is an example of the quantum

mechanics principle of non-locality (covered in Chapter 1)—once two

objects come into contact they remain in contact at a distance. That is, at

the quantum level the handled objects were still connected to the woman

such that the caxwu was able to detect them. Their problem was that

the caxwe did not differentiate between the gold coins and other objects

handled by this woman.

One of the more puzzling aspects here is the heating up of the caxwu

during its use, to include their heating it up on a fire before starting up.

I do not have an explanation for this phenomenon, but it is not unusual

to read that a power object will heat up during the course of its use. The

same holds true for the hands of a shaman during healing. Evidently

there is a relationship between the release of heat and use of at least some

medicine powers.

One other detail of this account, not mentioned above, is that when the

caxwu would stop at a certain spot, the shamans would reenact whatever

Charley’s wife had been doing at that spot. For example, at one spot where

they found only an empty can and rags, the shaman cried “just as that

wife of Charley’s had cried there.”74 In the deserted village the caxwu “shot

down to the salt water and sat down, and their owners cried and washed

their faces in the water, just as Charley’s wife had done.”75 Thus it appears

that in the SSC the shamans became this woman. This is reminiscent of

the work of psychic detectives, who in trance, often become the victim of a

crime and experience what the victim experienced.76

Hidden objects were also prey to the shaman’s vision. Being stingy

was not socially acceptable among the American Indians, especially when

it came to whiskey drinking. Stefánsson gives an amusing case of a man

over the bay to islands, going to the many different spots where the wife

had formerly lived and buried things. A man named Kenanlnal held the

caxwu, but insisted on greasing his hand to prevent burning. On the

second day, Kenanlnal becoming exhausted, so they added a second

caxwe to the search that belonged to Old Man George Kanoodle. These

two spirit objects worked in unison and would shake up and down over

any spot where his wife had buried something.

At one point George’s caxwe got up and went over to a man present

and shook at him. “And George told that man, ‘You sit down right there.’

And he told that man, Big Jim, the brother of that woman [Charley’s first

wife], ‘Did your sister give you that money?’ ‘Yes, she gave me twenty

dollars before she died.’ So they found twenty dollars of that money.”69

Then the caxwu went out of the house, down to beach, and pointed

across the bay to where Charley’s wife had been born and raised. So they

put both of the figures into the canoe and headed across the bay. Because

the caxwu does not work on water, the figurines remained “quiet” and

did not move during the crossing. Once on the other shore they built up a

fire to “heat up” (activate) their figurines. “And now the caxwu started to

course around, both of them together now. Where one would go, the other

would go. And around and around they went, till they came to one of the

corner house posts, the rear post on the right as you went in.”70 There they

stopped and shook, and George declared they had found the spot.

“So they dug down about three feet and they lifted out another can, all

wrapped in a rag, and in the can was gold all wrapped up in rags, and two

fathoms of dentalia [shells] with the gold. And there were five twenties in

gold, that’s all the gold there was there.”71

On the third day they started off again by heating up the figurines

near a fire. The two caxwu rose up high in the air and shook, indicating

a far off location, while pointing to Westport on Grays Harbor, where the

wife had lived as a little girl. So they all went there to continue the search.

This village had long been deserted and was in decay. Eventually the

caxwu stopped in the middle of the old village, and “people dug in the

ground with digging sticks now. And they dug away about three feet down,

and now they felt something with their sticks. And they pulled it out, all

wrapped with gunny sacks and rags…when they unwrapped it there was

only one hundred dollars. And they dug a little more, and found her big

horn spoons, two of them, but no more money.”72


So that white boy said, “Yes, Tunkashila [Creator], I want them

in here. Please bring them in.”

So we sang a song. Then you could hear that rolling sound. It

sounded like gravel sliding down a chute. It was that sound. You

could hear the straps slapping and those spurs jingling. Then we

hear this flop.79

Following the recovery of his grandfather’s things, the spirits then

gave them directions to follow, which led the “white boy” to the stockyard

in Rapid City. “Then we finished the ceremony. When we turned on the

lights, that saddle, spurs, and bridle were sitting by the altar. So how

did the spirits bring them in? That’s a mystery. But that made him [the

‘white boy’] really happy.”79 The next morning the horses were found at the

stockyard, and the thief was soon thereafter arrested.

The relocation of objects in space is a difficult concept for most people

to grasp, but certainly within the realm of quantum level possibilities.

Recall that at the quantum level, particles do not move from one point to

another, rather they disappear and then reappear somewhere else—they

“translocate” as a physicist would say. Such translocations can take place

at this level as well given a strong observation is formed through songs

and prayers or via a helping spirit’s aid.

In one of John Neihardt’s PK (psychokenesis) experiments they put an

object in a sealed glass case, and then tried to move it with their thoughts.

Nothing happened. Then the object was left in the case and a camera

left on it. That night the camera recorded several instances of the object

moving out of the case and then back into it. As one member of Neihardt’s

original SORRAT society reported, “A study of films involving apports

[movement of an object] has shed some light upon this controversial aspect

of psychokinesis. In the first place, apports do behave in much the same

way as observers a hundred years ago said that they behaved. They seem

to appear without being seen to cross space while reaching their destina-

tion, and they seem to vanish without being seen to move rapidly away

from the observer.”80 This means that the man’s stolen saddle, etc. would

be seen to disappear from the thief’s possession only to reappear on the

roof the ceremony house. The account (in Chapter 4) of the young man

being thrown out of the sweat lodge was another example of translocation.

who bought eight bottles of whiskey, hid two, and then invited in his

friends to drink the other six bottles. When the party had finished off the

six bottles, one of the shamans told him to bring out the other two, “which

you have hidden in that box.”77

The ability to find lost objects was sometimes a money-making enter-

prise. Among the Yokuts there were huhuna dancers who “could hear

money.” People would gather at their dance grounds, hide money in

different places, and then bring in the huhuna. “Sometimes he wore a

mask that covered his eyes. He danced around. As soon as he heard the

hidden money he pointed to it with a stick he carried. He had his own

winatum [assistant] who dug it out for him and put it in a basket.”78 When

he finished dancing he kept all the money found.

The Translocation of Objects

It is not unusual for helping spirits to return a lost object during cere-

mony, although they most often simply give information as to its where-

abouts. Recall the example (from Chapter 4) of Fools Crow’s spirits finding

a can that had been hidden with money it in and placing it on his ceremo-

nial altar. Wallace Black Elk tells of the time a rancher came to him and

his father for help in recovering stolen property. Someone had driven onto

his ranch and stolen three of his horses, a silver-mounted saddle, spurs,

martingale, and bridle, all which (except the horses) had belonged to his

grandfather. At the age of eleven, this man had been saved from death

through a Lakota healing ceremony. So he was not only familiar with their

medicine powers, but he also believed in them. Of the ceremony, Black Elk

says:

So we started singing those songs. Then that spirit took off to

backtrack that truck. He went over to the house where that white

boy lived. There he picked up the trail and traced it. He even went

on that blacktop. There are thousands of those tires, the same

kind of tire, going over and over on that blacktop. But he traced

that track. During the last song he came back in.

He said, “Yeah, I found it. And I brought those things that you

want to keep from your grandfather. I brought them here and laid

them on the top of this roof. If you want, I could bring them in.”


Illinois River by the Ottawa before named, who was out hunting.

He took them to his lodge, fed them well, and wanted to detain

them some days until they had recovered their strength; but they

would not stay. He then gave them some elk meat for their journey

home, and sent his son to put them into the right road. They will

go to Lagothenes for the flour you sent them, and will be at home

in three days.82

The agent, not fully convinced, asked Wahwun to describe their

encampment he had visited. “They had made a shelter by the side of a

large oak tree that had been torn up by the roots, and which had fallen

with the head towards the rising sun,” he replied. As predicted, the three

men not only returned home on the third day, but also confirmed all the

details Wahwun had given.

John Mason Browne, of the American Fur Company, reported that

Maqueapos (Wolf’s Word), a Blood (Blackfeet) medicine man, was used

to check on some missing men. The company had sent out a party of

ten explorers from Fort Benton to travel north to the tributaries of the

Coppermine and Mackenzie rivers in order to locate the Kaime (Blood

band of the Northern Blackfeet). However, after a journey of several days

they found themselves in the midst of a Cree war party and in danger.

Seven of them decided to return southward to Fort Benton.

The remaining three, more through foolhardiness than for any

good reason, continued their journey, until their resolution failed

them, and they too determined that, after another day’s travel

northward, they would hasten back to their comrades.

On the afternoon of the last day, four young Indians were

seen, who, after a cautious approach, made the sign of peace, laid

down their arms, and came forward, announcing themselves to

be Blackfeet of the Blood band. They were sent out, they said, by

Ma-que-a-pos, to find three whites, mounted on horses of a pecu-

liar color, dressed in garments accurately described to them, and

armed with weapons which they, without seeing them, minutely

described. The whole history of the expedition had been detailed to

them by Ma-que-a-pos. The purpose of the journey, the personnel

of the party, the exact locality at which to find the three who

Remember, the rules that govern the quantum level are stronger than the

rules of physics at this level.

Of course, some shamans used their power to steal objects. One such

report comes from the Lummi.

On one occasion when a relative of his coveted an agate hammer

which he had been unable to purchase from a canoe builder in

a neighboring village, he [the medicine man] volunteered to try

to get it for him. At dusk he had a new mat brought for him to

kneel upon and a new water-tight basket filled with water. As he

sang his spirit song assisted by a group of spectators he took the

water that was in the basket and gripped it in his hand until it

dissolved [disappeared?]. He then sent his spirit power to get the

agate hammer. Toward morning, he began to talk as if in a trance,

and the hammer appeared in the basket.81

Lost People

Living in an environment full of inherent dangers, people often disap-

peared and shamans would be called upon to find them. This ability was

well-known such that early settlers also used Indian shamans for this

purpose. Wahwun, a Winnebago shaman, was asked in 1804 by a govern-

ment agent to locate three of his men who had not returned on time.

The agent gifted Wahwun a quarter-pound of tobacco and two yards of

ribbon to perform a divination ceremony, and told him that if the facts he

provided turned out to be true, he would throw in a bottle of rum. That

evening Wahwun held his ceremony and returned to the agent the next

morning with the following report.

I went to smoke the pipe with your men last night, and found

them cooking some elk meat which they got from an Ottawa Indian.

On leaving this place they took the wrong road on the top of the

hill; they traveled hard on and did not know for two days that they

were lost. When they discovered their situation they were much

alarmed, and, having nothing more to eat, were afraid they would

starve to death. They walked on without knowing which way they

were going until the seventh day, when they were met near the


river between Kennett and Keswick. People looked for the body and

found it just where she said it would be. Ever since then she has

sent poison [sickness] to us here a lot.86

Given her reputation as a ‘poisoner,’ she was not often called upon to treat

patients.

Wallace Black Elk gave a detailed account of finding a lost boy. An

Indian couple had lost their eleven-year-old son. He had fallen into

the Missouri River, and for two weeks divers could not locate his body.

Although they were Christian, friends convinced them that the only way

they were going to locate the body was to go to a medicine man. So they

brought a sacred pipe to the reservation, and asked Wallace’s cousin to

find him. The sacred pipe presentation was accepted, and Wallace, his

father, and cousin first conducted a sweat lodge ceremony. They then went

to the parent’s home.

Wallace reports:

People came in there and sat down. The sheriff was there also.

Then that father and mother came in. So I sat there and acted as

interpreter for the spirit. So we started, and the spirit came in…

Then we sang a song, and a beaver spirit came in. He walked

around. He was shaking, and water sprinkled all over us. Then he

asked us what we wanted. So we said, “There is a boy that lost his

life in the water. Maybe you could go and help us locate him. His

father and mother have tears of sadness. They want to know at

least if their son is dead. At least they want to recover the remains.

That’s what they want.”

So the beaver said, “Oh, sing four songs. I’m going to leave. If I

don’t return by the fourth song, then you will have to find another

helper.” So we sang four songs. Everybody prayed. On the fourth

song, he came back in. He shook that water off, and you could see

his water tracks in there. Then he said, “Yes, I found him. He was

buried underneath a stump in the sand. So I dug him out. There

is a curve over there and like a wall. There is a tree growing there,

so the roots stick out of that wall. So I took him there, and I hung

him over those roots. Tomorrow you go over to that river. You go

there with the Chanunpa [sacred pipe]. Then you walk along that

persevered, had been detailed by him with as much fidelity as

could have been done by one of the whites themselves. And so

convinced were the Indians of the truth of the old man’s medi-

cine, that the four young men were sent to appoint a rendezvous,

for four days later, at a spot a hundred miles distant. On arriving

there, accompanied by the young Indians, the whites found the

entire camp of “Rising Head,” a noted war chief, awaiting them.

The objects of the expedition were speedily accomplished.83

When Maqueapos was questioned by Browne as to how he had come

by his information, the old man simply replied that he “saw us coming and

heard us talk on our journey.”84

A similar account comes from the Fort Nelson Slave nation. In 1920

Old Matoit, a medicine man, was asked to locate a man who had gone on

a river trip. During his ceremony he said,

“I’ll look at my hand and make the bends of the river.” He did

this and said, “No, that boat is going down.” He did it again. At

fifteen bends down the river he said [to the man’s wife], “Here is

your husband coming.” After another period of singing, he said,

“Let’s see where your husband is now.” He made only two bends.

A number of white people were present in the tent and they all

laughed. The prophet warned everyone not to leave the tent. Then

he told the wife to go on the hill. “If you don’t see your husband

coming I’ll be a liar,” he said. She went on the hill and called out,

“There he is coming!”85

Fanny Brown, a California Wintu healing shaman, born around 1870,

used her powers to find out about her son when he turned up missing.

Fanny’s boy was killed. He was found in the [Sacramento] river.

They said he had been drowned. Fanny went into a trance and told

all that had happened. She said he had been murdered and that

his body had been kept under the house for two days. Then it was

thrown in the river. She told where the body would be found in the


The direction in which the soothsaying stone sways most violently—other

informants say: the direction in which it starts swinging—indicates the

direction in which the search has to be started.”89 The search is then

started in the direction indicated. The shaman stops intermittently along

the way to repeat the procedure in order to fine tune their course until the

lost item is found. In the case of a lost person, the technique is also used

to determine if that person is still alive or not. In this case,

a handkerchief or a piece of calico is folded so as to cover a space

of about 10 cm. by 10 cm. It is put on the ground, in front of the

diviner, and at the far end, away from him, a small lump of bread

is placed on the cloth; on his near side, a piece of charcoal, taken

from the fire. The piece of ocher…is put down exactly between

the two, and after a formula [charm] has been recited, the hema-

tite is suddenly lifted by the free end: the direction it first swings

when raised, indicates the fate of the subject of the ceremony; the

bread symbolizes his being alive, the charcoal his (mostly tragical)

death.90

Finally, lost animals, such as dogs and horses, are dealt with in the

same manner. For example, Wintu shaman Nels Charles reported that, “If

a dog were lost while hunting, a doctor would sing and talk to the dog and

tell him where his master was.”91

Questions Answered

Shamans were frequently called upon to answer all types of ques-

tions, again this being a form of divination. You only needed to know

which shamans had this special power. Tlingit shamans “are said to have

had an animal bone with a hole in it, through which they could look at

the future.”92 These shamans were often called “seers.” Their “conjuring”

sessions would usually be held in the evening and those in attendance

would ask questions of the shaman or shaman’s spirit.

Questioning ceremonies often involved a “spirit interpreter” to converse

between the shaman and the audience, especially when the shaman spoke

in an “ancient language.” Recall, in full trance a shaman is possessed by

a spirit who often speaks through the shaman in an unknown language

river. When you hear me, you come in that direction. You pray and

walk in that direction. You come to the edge of the water. You look

down. You stand there and look until you see the remains there.

Then you signal, and they will come help you to pick him up.” So

we thanked him, and he left.

The next day we went over there. We walked along (the river),

and then we heard that sound—swoosh—like that [the sound of a

beaver tail hitting the water]. So we turned around and headed in

the direction of that sound. We prayed. We walked straight to the

edge and looked down. So we were standing there watching. Pretty

soon we saw him. His arm was hanging over that tree root, just

below the water line. So the sheriff was there, and he ran back to

the radio. Pretty soon the boats came. They were about a mile and

a half away. When they got there, some people dove into the water

and pulled him into the boat. Then we went back.87

It is informative to note that in this last account the beaver spirit not

only located the body and moved it to where it could be found, but he also

predicted the exact sequence of events by which it would be found. It was

the duty of the shaman to follow the spirit’s instructions precisely, which

led them on a specific course of action. This is another example of the

“course” theme that was seen with the use of the caxwu.

Searches for persons who have long been dead are also reported. Recall

the Northwest Coast practice of rebuilding the grave houses of their ances-

tors. Sometimes these grave sites are decayed beyond recognition, and a

shaman is called on to find their location. These shamans must also have

a special power that enables them to handle the remains of the dead. One

such person among the Yakima was Walamuskee, who was very famous

for his ability at finding graves that others had given up on as hopelessly

lost.88

The Cherokees had several different methods of finding lost objects or

persons, all based on the movement of a divining object. In most cases they

used a piece of hematite (red ocher), called wodi, attached to a piece of string

or thread, usually white in color, and about a foot long. The shaman holds

the free end of the string between his right thumb and index finger. “The

stone, dangling from the end of the string starts a pendulum-like motion,

almost imperceptible in the beginning, but gradually gaining momentum.


rushed home and saw enough to justify manhandling the false

friend almost to the point of death. This shaman would consis-

tently lie on his side and tell the room just who was approaching,

how far away he was, just which horse he was riding, just when

he would arrive, etc. Even the skeptical younger men say that he

never made a mistake.99

Carlie Gabe, a nearby Kalispel shaman, had the same ability. He died

around the spring of 1937. “Charlie was also a seer. As long as he danced

he, too, could tell who was coming, no matter how far away the traveler

might be. Many Indians have recounted how they have tried to surprise

him. They would take off their shoes. They would make friends with the

dogs. But every time Charlie called out their names and opened the door

for them.”100 Around 1935 Edward Lozeau, who lived about seven miles

from Charlie, received a visit from a shaman who complained that Charlie

was doing “sumesh dancing” (power dancing) in his house instead of

using the traditional ceremonial tent. “Lorenz became interested and the

two started for Gabe’s house. When they arrived Gabe and his shaman

cousin called out their names, and opened the door for them. ‘So you told

Ed Lozeau that I am doing wrong by dancing in a house this way,’ cried

Charlie.”101 Klikitat shaman, Jake Hunt, was also “capable of anticipating

the arrival of an unannounced visitor.”102

Question-answering ceremonies took many different forms. The

general pattern is simply the shaman going into the SSC and calling

forth his spirit helpers. The participants recognize that the SSC has been

reached when the shaman’s voice changes, noises are heard, winds felt,

or other such noticeable means. Then the participants begin asking ques-

tions. In some cases participants converse directly with the spirit helpers,

but usually, as mentioned, there is an intermediary ceremonial assistant

who handles the answers. Of course all of these forms evolve over time,

such that a completely different form of divination may be in use in any

nation a century later.

In the Arctic Area, divination by weight is widespread. This form of

divination is used mainly for diagnosing illnesses, but can also be used

to answer any question. Usually the person with a question lies on their

back on the floor, and a cord is attached either around their head or foot.

The shaman then lifts this cord, and depending on whether it is heavy or

as well as an unfamiliar voice.93 Among the Takelma a diviner was known

as the “shaman’s answerer.”94 Since the shaman cannot remember what

was said during a full trance, his ceremonial assistant usually tells the

shaman what transpired once he comes out of trance. Wintu doctor Fanny

Brown explained it as follows: “When a doctor is in trance he talks another

language. I don’t know how or when I learned doctor’s language. It is just

my spirit talking to my heart.”95 In addition, a spirit can read your mind

such that you don’t even need to speak your question. I learned this from

such a spirit encounter I once had. Another Wintu shaman, Nels Charles,

put it simply as, “Spirits talk to my heart and know what I think.”96

This use of a “doctor’s language” by shamans is found throughout

North America. Spirit-sent songs that are acquired during a vision quest

are often in a “scared language.” Consequently, they require translation

by the shaman or a trained assistant. This is certainly true among the

Lakota where the shaman’s spirit-sent language is called hanbloglaka

(vision talk). “It is incomprehensible to common people, and to other medi-

cine men as well. It represents a personal reenactment of a discourse

between a single medicine man and his sacred helpers who communicate

with him, and instruct him, during the course of one or more visions.

Even the privileged medicine man who has received a vision may have to

wait for subsequent visions to understand the significance of his previous

one(s).”97

As you might expect, there was often a lot of humor involved in these

question sessions. The popularity of them was such that some nations

had a special name for such ceremonies. For example, the Coos had

the Yeles ceremony. “The function of the Yeles was to delve deep into

the secrets of the village and find out things people didn’t know…As the

evening progressed, the shaman conducting this ceremony also revealed

the wrongs of the other shamans present.”98

One such shaman was a very entertaining Flathead man, who died

during the 1920’s.

He was a constant source of entertainment to his friends, being

a veritable mine of reservation gossip. He would lie on the floor

and delight everyone with what was going on, even events of the

most intimate nature. One night he turned on his elbow and told

one of his guests that a friend was enjoying his wife. The cuckold


next day, and this time turning things over and rolling them around, but

putting them back in their original position. This time the woman told

them that her dog said they moving her things around, and that they were

trying to test her. Then they believed her.109

The Shaking Tent

Of all the different forms of divination in North America, none appears

to be more ancient or widespread than the Ojibwa Shaking Tent ceremony.

Thus it deserves special attention. Believed to have originated in the Great

Lakes area, this ceremony was in use when the Jesuits first came into this

region, and it is still conducted there today. The ceremony always takes

place in the dark.110 However, there are rare reports of it being performed in

daylight. The earliest known account of this ceremony comes from Samuel

de Champlain, who briefly mentioned it in 1609 among the Algonquins.

However, it was Father LeJune, who in 1634 gave the first in-depth account

of the ceremony. Incidentally, his account is also regarded as the first record

of an American Indian “conjuring” ceremony. Eventually, the shaking tent

ceremony spread across Canada, and appears in one form or another from

Labrador westward to eastern Washington. It is reported to have spread to

the Ottawa, Cree, Saulteaux, Naskapi-Montagnais, Menomini, Blackfeet

(Blood and Peigan), Gros Ventre, Sarsi, Kiowa, Cheyenne, Plains Cree,

Dakota, Mandan, Assiniboin, and others. The ceremony and the shape

of the tent differs between shamans since “each conjouror must have his

tent built according to instructions received in his fasting dream as to

shape, number of poles, kind of wood, etc.”111 In addition to the tent, other

characteristics of this ceremony include the binding of the shaman who is

subsequently released by the spirits, shaking of the tent when the spirits

enter it, and many different spirit voices manifesting from the tent. “Old

Yellow Legs is said to have had four lodges built on one occasion. He put

an article of his clothing in three of them and entered the fourth himself.

As soon as he was inside, all four lodges began to shake.”112 Shaking tent

shamans were both men and women, and the ceremony was also used as

a healing ceremony.113

Only a shaman who has caught a helping spirit(s) can perform this

ceremony. This ceremony cannot be sold or transferred to others, as is

the case with amulets and charms. When an Ojibwa djessakid (seer-type

light a determination of yes or no is made. Among the Netsilik of Labrador

it is known as the krilaq ceremony. The term comes from qila, the name of

a particular spirit residing in the earth.

On the other side of the Arctic, in Alaska, divination by weight is the

method used by shamans who live along the Yukon River. However, the

nearby Copper Inuit used a bundled up coat, called a kila, for the same

purpose. The spirit enters the kila, and by its weight a yes or no answer

is made. The process is complicated by the fact that a bad spirit can enter

the kila and give a false answer. This means their shamans must always

be on the lookout for such a spirit and remove it from the kila should this

happen. In most cases the shaman blows his breath on the kila to remove

the evil spirit. Here again, we have the connection between breath and

medicine powers.

Around 1914 Canadian anthropologist, Diamond Jenness, underwent

such a ceremony to diagnosis his illness at the time, even though he saw

Indians as “mentally somewhat unbalanced.”103 Higilak, a female shaman,

made a kila from his coat, which she rested on her foot gear. However,

because Jenness was a white man, Higilak told them that the meaning

of the heavy and light indicators were reversed in his case. Elsewhere in

Alaska a mitten instead of a coat is sometimes used.104

In the Southwest Area gazing into a bowl of water or through a crystal

are both common forms of divination. The water method is known as

scrying. For example, the Tewa would gaze into a “medicine bowl” when

trying to discover witches.105 The Sarcee of Alberta used badger blood to

foretell the outcome of a war party. The shaman “poured on this blood a

little water, and sprinkled over it first some gunpowder, next red ocher, and

finally tiny shreds of sage-grass.”106 Mirrors were also used for scrying.

The Klikitat prophet/dreamer, Lishwailait, would hold up a mirror and

“saw your sins.”107

I would like to note in passing that some seers had special powers to

transcend the normal boundaries of human communication. For example,

seers among the Yakima were in the class known as “small doctor” or

“half doctor.” In this class one could find both “baby understanders” and

“dog understanders.”108 Among the Cascade there was an old woman who

was a “dog understander.” Two women decided to test her, and entered

her house with her dog watching them while she was out picking berries.

When she returned she said to them, “My dog says you were in my house

while I was gone.” Not fully believing her, they again went to her house the


the binding done by someone not connected with the performance.120 In

some areas the shaman was wrapped up in a blanket.121 Once he began

singing his spirit-calling songs, their presence was made known by

the swaying of the lodge poles. This shaking motion would sometimes

become quite violent, even to the point of the pole tops touching the

ground. The swaying would continue, often for hours upon end, until the

manitos departed. Unlike most divination ceremonies, the shaking tent

was usually filled with many different kinds of spirits, each emitting a

different sound. Often they would come as tiny sparks of light, as seen in

the Lakota yuwipi ceremonies, and sparks would fly from the top of the

tent.122 The participants recognized each spirit visitor by their different

voices. Mikenak (or Michika, Mikinak, Miqkäno, etc.), the Turtle spirit,

was a frequent visitor recognized by his Donald-Duck-like voice.123 He

was considered to be the most powerful of the Shaking Tent spirits.124 In

the Gros Ventre shaking tents, the spirits communicated via a ‘whistling

talk.”125 When the ceremony ended, the shaman would emerge, free of his

bindings. Quite often these bindings, with knots still intact, would come

flying out of the top of the tent soon after the shaman ended his singing.

In alignment with quantum mechanics, this is not a matter of the spirits

untying the shaman’s bindings, but of them translocating the bindings

in space such that the knots remain.126 Anthropologist Irving Hallowell

even tells of one shaman named Flatstone, who, during his shaking tent

ceremony, suddenly appeared “standing in the audience close to the lodge.

Then he went in again.”127

Because this ceremony was observed early on, there are many reports

of its performance. What follow are several typical examples beginning

with LeJune’s first-ever account of this ceremony.

He [the shaman] shook this edifice [the tent] gently; but, as

he continued to become more animated, he fell into so violent an

ecstasy [SSC], that I thought he would break everything to pieces,

shaking his house with so much force and violence, that I was

astonished at a man having so much strength; for, after he had

once begun to shake it, he did not stop until the consultation

was over, which lasted about three hours…then to howl and sing,

constantly varying his tones…after a thousand cries and howls,

after a thousand songs, after having danced and thoroughly

of shaman) acquired such powers from a manito (spirit) through a vision

or dream, such power was usually not put to immediate use. One report

states that the shaman would wait until the same empowering vision

appeared four times before the ceremony would be performed.114 This was

a powerful ceremony, and children were generally not allowed to attend.

The shaman was usually exhausted at the conclusion such that the cere-

mony was performed sparingly. For that reason “only men in the prime of

life could conjure, and then not more often than once a month, or perhaps

two or three times in a summer.”115

Before undertaking this ceremony the shaman would undergo puri-

fication, usually in a sweat lodge, along with his ceremonial assistants.

Afterwards, the assistants, never the shaman, would erect the shaking

tent lodge.116 “The Indians claim that an exceptionally powerful conjuror

could mark off the space for a lodge by creating a hollow in the ground

3 feet deep with a single sweep of his hand, and that a second wave of

his hand at the conclusion of the séance restored the ground to its orig-

inal position.”117 Again, these “lodges” differed according to instructions

received from one’s manito. The upright poles, about twelve feet in length,

numbered anywhere from four to ten. Great care was given to the selec-

tion of the trees that were to be used and their preparation as poles.118

They were then set upright into the ground in a circle about four feet in

diameter. These were substantial poles, around four to six-inches in diam-

eter, and set two feet deep into the ground. Among the northern Ojibwa,

it is reported that the number of poles set into the ground is an indicator

of the shaman’s power, his “steps to the Great Mystery,” as the poles are

called.119 Once in the ground, the poles were then bent outwards at the

middle and brought close together near the top, leaving a one-foot diam-

eter hole in the top of the lodge for the coming and going of the manitos.

In some cases the poles were left upright, forming a large cylinder such

that early accounts often talk about the “stove” the shaman entered.

Regardless of the shape, the poles were all tied together, and then covered

with skins or bark (canvas is used today). A small opening would be left

for the djessakid to enter the lodge. Finally, tree boughs would be placed

on the floor of the lodge along with the shaman’s rattle or drum, used for

inducing the SSC.

Once the lodge was prepared, the djessakid would be tightly bound

with a rope, then placed in the lodge and the door shut. Most accounts

have a ceremonial assistant binding the shaman, but other reports have


bottom, at others on his knees and elbows; and here he remains…

and when he comes off no marks of injury appear, tho’ he entered

naked, only his Cloute about him, and of course the Cords with

which he is tied.”130

This account brings to mind our images of holy men in India sitting on a

bed of nails. A similar use of sharp stakes was also observed among the

Blackfoot.131

The Conjuror is bound hand and foot…as a Criminal…and one

whom they intend never to loosen, so barricaded and cross-corded

is the creature, sometimes all crumpled into a heap…thus thrust

into the hut, underneath, i.e., by raising the lower covering…some

of them sing on entering, others make a speech [pray]. Here they

remain, some several hours, others not 5 minutes, before a flut-

tering is heard. The rattler is shaked at a merry rate and all of

a Sudden, either from the top or below, away flies the cords by

which the indian was tied into the lap of he who tied him…It is

then that the Devil is at work…When any enter, the hut moves in

a most violent manner—I have frequently thought that it would

be knocked down, or torn out of the Ground…[at the end of the

ceremony] he sends off all the Spirits, who as they fly off, as well

as when they enter, give this frame a terrible shaking.132

Among the Montagnais of Eastern Canada the shaman received his

shaking tent powers through hunting. Each animal the shaman killed

added to his ability to endure the shaking tent ceremony. Like other cere-

monies, it lasted for hours, but in this case children were often allowed to

attend. Mathieu André had observed the ceremony in his youth.

The ritual takes place in the darkness, because the shaman

is looking for the light in the animal (master’s) eyes. As soon as

the shaman enters the tent, it starts to shake, the poles bend and

flatten on all sides. A whistling sound like a strong wind in the

trees can be heard.

shaken this fine edifice, the sorcerer consulted them…These Genii

[spirits], or rather the juggler [shaman] who counterfeited them,

answered…always disguising his voice.128

Of course, LeJune and other whites responded with the only rational

explanation they could muster—these shamans are very strong and

are also excellent ventriloquists. Nevertheless, even shamans who were

converted to Christianity maintained to their death that the voices heard

came from spirits, as well as the shaking of the tent.129

George Nelson, a fur trade clerk for the Hudson Bay Company during

the 1820’s, sometimes attended nearby Cree shaking tent ceremonies. The

Cree used six or eight upright poles that were bound together by three or

four horizontal loops. Bound in this manner, the poles could not move

independently.

Some conjurors are so powerful that the hut [shaking tent]

they enter, must be doubled; that is two rows of Setts of Poles one

on the outside (of) the other; and each row fastened with good

strong hoops well tied, after which the outer and inner row are

also fastened—thus arranged, they seem to be beyond the Power of

any 3 Or 4 men to move, yet when the Spirits enter it sets a-going

with a motion equal to that of a single pole indifferently stuck in

the Ground and violently moved by a man. I have never seen any

of these double ones, but twice or thrice saw the others, whilst the

conjuror was in. Some time afterwards, when they were off, I shook

them with both hands and with all my strength but the motion

was nothing like that of the Conjurors. I have been told that those

who enter these Double ones are so powerful that almost all the

[spirits of] Creation comes to see them, and they are shaken with

uncommon violence…

Some of them to shew [sic] their Power have had small sticks of

the hardest wood about the size of a man’s finger, made as sharp

pointed as possible, and dried, when they become in consequence

nearly as dangerous as iron or bayonets. Some have 18, 24, more

or less, tho’ seldom less than 18, planted in the bottom of their

hut—they are about 12 or 14 ins. Out of Ground. On the Points

of these Sticks is the [bound] conjuror placed, sometimes on his


Early settlers often came into contact with this ceremony. Recall that

their consistent attitude was “it’s a trick.” Consequently this generated a lot

of betting between Indians and whites, as given in the following account.

Paul Beaulieu, an Ojibwa of mixed blood, present interpreter

at White Earth Agency, Minnesota, gave me his experience with

a Jessakkid, at Leech Lake, Minnesota, about the year 1858. The

reports of his wonderful performances had reached the agency,

and as Beaulieu had no faith in jugglers, he offered to wager $100,

a large sum, then and there, against goods of equal value, that

the juggler could not perform satisfactorily one of the tricks of

his repertoire to be selected by him (Beaulieu) in the presence of

himself and a committee of friends. The Jessakkan—or Jessakkid

lodge—was then erected. The framework of vertical poles, inclined

to the center, was filled in with interlaced twigs covered with blan-

kets and birch-bark from the ground to top, leaving an upper orifice

of about a foot in diameter for the ingress and egress of spirits, and

the objects to be mentioned, but not large enough for the passage

of a man’s body. At one side of the lower wrapping a flap was left

for the entrance of the Jessakkid.

A committee of twelve was selected to see that no communica-

tion was possible between the Jessakkid and confederates. These

were reliable [white] people, one of them the Episcopal clergyman

of the reservation. The spectators were several hundred in number,

but they stood off, not being allowed to approach.

The Jessakkid then removed his clothing, until nothing

remained but the breech-cloth. Beaulieu took a rope (selected by

himself for the purpose) and first tied and knotted one end about

the juggler’s ankles; his knees were then securely tied together,

next the wrists, after which the arms were passed over the knees

and a billet of wood passed through under the knees, thus securing

and keeping the arms down motionless. The rope was then passed

around the neck, again and again, each time tied and knotted,

so as to bring the face down upon the knees. A flat river-stone of

black color—which was the Jessakkid’s manido or amulet—was

left lying upon his thighs.

Then the buzzing of black flies is heard, and they attack the

tent. Once inside, the flies hurl themselves against the walls. They

are said to be the spirits of the animals the shaman has killed. The

sounds of animals can then be heard, the cries of caribou, geese,

(and other birds). You really have the impression you’re on a duck

hunt.

Next, someone is heard speaking inside the tent, what we call

“kainnuaimit,” or one who speaks Montagnais or “mishtapeu.” He

acts as interpreter for the animals, the shaman, and the people

asking the questions.133

Women also performed this ceremony, and we have an account of

Buffalo Chip Woman, a Blood, who had her own variation. She would

perform her ceremony in a room. One corner of the room was partitioned

off, by hanging a blanket between adjacent walls. She would go behind the

blanket and begin from there.

A spectator named Running Sun then spoke to the medium.

“My wife went for rations two weeks ago. Upon her return, she lost

the key to our house. Can your spirit locate it?” Now the ghost was

heard to speak. None but the seeress could understand the pecu-

liar, humming sounds he made. She explained…“he can only talk

in a peculiar way but I can understand him.” As the spirit spoke,

she interpreted. “I’m going out again! Each of you take a smoke

from the pipe!”

Middle Bird Woman lighted the pipe at the stove and passed

it among those present. The conjuror explained, “This is the way I

meet the spirit. Take this buffalo robe and be ready! Pull me from

the corner and cover me with the robe so the hair side is out! My

husband will then sing the song to bring me back.” The company

continued to smoke. Soon the spirit could be heard returning. The

cry of an owl was now heard. Again, a thud at the door marked the

guest’s re-entry. Then the sound made by a bunch of keys striking

the floor was noticed…The spirit asked, “Are those the missing

keys?” Running Sun identified them as such.134

Lost articles are also tossed out of a shaking tent to their owners.135


near him, lighting my own pipe and, placing a present of two plugs

of tobacco near him, proceeded to smoke quietly, without a sign of

recognition being made by the Indian.

Everything was very still in the lodge, while outside in the

main camp drums could be heard beating in different parts, wher-

ever dances were being held. We had sat this way for quite a time,

when I was startled by the sound of a bell ringing above me, over

the top of the lodge. I could see nothing, and the Indian made no

move. Presently the teepee itself began to rock, even lifting off the

ground a foot or more behind me. When it is remembered that a

large Indian tent consists of dozens of long poles crossed at the top,

wide apart at the bottom, and covered with buffalo hides, it will

seem that it is nearly impossible to lift one side, for no wind can

blow them over.

The rocking motion ceased after a while, and I went outside the

lodge to see if anyone had been playing tricks: but not a human

being was in sight near us, the moon was clear, and you could

see a long distance. On returning and resuming my seat after a

short interval, the tent again began to rock, and so violently that

it would sometimes lift several feet on one side, so that you could

plainly see outside. My interpreter was thoroughly frightened by

this time, and I was not much better, but the Indian never stirred.

However we had seen enough and left, returning to our camp thor-

oughly mystified…I could tell many weird stories of these medicine

men and their ways, but they would not be credited.137

The Jesakkid was then carried to the lodge and placed inside

upon a mat on the ground, and the flap covering was restored so

as to completely hide him from view.

Immediately loud, thumping noises were heard, and the frame-

work began to sway from side to side with great violence; where-

upon the clergyman remarked that this was the work of the Evil

One and “it was no place for him,” so he left and did not see the

end. After a few minutes of violent movements and swayings of

the lodge accompanied by loud inarticulate noises, the motions

gradually ceased when the voice of the juggler was heard, telling

Beaulieu to go to the house of a friend, near by, and get the rope.

Now, Beaulieu, suspecting some joke was to be played upon him,

directed the committee to be very careful not to permit any one

to approach while he went for the rope, which he found at the

place indicated, still tied exactly as he had placed it about the neck

and extremities of the Jessakkid. He immediately returned, laid it

down before the spectators, and requested of the Jessakkid to be

allowed to look at him, which was granted, but with the under-

standing that Beaulieu was not to touch him.

When the covering was pulled aside, the Jessakkid sat within

the lodge, contentedly smoking his pipe, with no other object in

sight than the black stone manido. Beaulieu paid his wager of

$100.136

Finally, I want to end this chapter with an account that reminds us

that the movement of a lodge is not limited to shaking tent ceremonies.

On a moonlit summer night in 1879 Sir Cecil Denny, an officer of the

Canadian Mounted Police since 1874, along with his interpreter, Billy

Gladstone, decided to pay a visit to a Blackfoot medicine man whose lodge

was pitched off to the side of the main camp. (Because of the inherent

dangers connected with medicine powers, it was not unusual to find

shamans camped off to the side of the main camp.)

We entered the lodge, which had only a small fire burning in

the centre. The medicine man was sitting wrapped in his buffalo

robe at the head of the teepee, smoking one of their long medicine

pipes. He paid no attention to us whatever. I therefore sat down


Chapter 7

Healing and Harming Medicines

We uneducated red men do not know the seat of

the faculties of men. Some wise men say it is in the

brain. We do not know. We do know that “the Lord

said unto Moses that Pharoah’s heart was hardened.”

He did not say that Pharoah’s brain was hardened.

Jesus said, “Son, give me thy heart.” He did not say

give me thy brain. Jesus said, “Let not your heart

be troubled.” He did not say let not your brain be

troubled. As I said, the seat of the mind we do not

know. We do remember the advice you gave us to

pray out of our hearts. Had you told us to pray out of

our brains, we should have tried to do it; but I think

they would have been brainless prayers.

— Enmegahbowh (John Johnson), Mississaga (Ojibwa)

in a letter to Bishop Whipple1

The Green

Whenever an ailment arose, not unlike us, Indians would first resort

to treatments they were familiar with. Treatments for cuts, insect bites

and other common aliments were well-known and utilized. If those failed,

they would seek out a healer. There are two basic types of healers found

among the American Indians, those who utilize only plant remedies and

shamans, who call in spirit helpers. Within each group there were special-

ists. Indians make a distinction between these two types of healers, using

different words for them in their languages. However, the general public

quite often confuses these two different approaches to healing, lumping

both practitioners together. Anthropologists usually use the term “herb-

alist” for those persons using only plant remedies. If patients could not

find success with herbalists, only as a last resort would they approach a

shaman. In more recent times, we find that Indian patients who believe

in medicine people will still often go to a western doctor before resorting

to a shamanic healing.2 A reluctance to use shamans means the greater

part of American Indian healing, in particular for less serious cases, is

accomplished through the use of plants instead of shamanic healing cere-

monies.3 Consequently, there were usually more herbalists present than

powerful shamans. Shamans were for serious cases, and their power was

potentially dangerous.4 Indeed, a shamanic healing was deemed a last

resort.5 Coupled to the dangers of a shaman’s power was the high cost to

the patient in sponsoring the required number of healing ceremonies.

Herbalists were less costly and involved less ritual. Herbalists were

active everywhere, except, of course, among the Inuit of the Arctic.6 This

has resulted in much more documentation of the American Indians’ plant

usage than of their shamanic healings. Along the early frontier, white

settlers were always more keenly interested in the local use of medicinal

plants by Indians than in their “devil worship” or “conjuring.” On the other

hand, Indian herbalists were normally reticent to reveal their plant knowl-

edge.7 Nevertheless, the extent of the recorded knowledge has made it

possible for Daniel Moerman to catalog 2,582 different species of medicinal

plants historically known to have been used by the American Indians.8 It

is assumed the number of unknown medicinal plants that were utilized

is even higher simply because the herbal knowledge of most nations went

unrecorded. Nevertheless, the high number of known medicinal plants is

a clear indicator of our early interest in this aspect of American Indian

healing. After all, the use of herbs appears rational to one’s mind.

During the 19th century many different “Indian tonics” passed through

local pharmacies. However, we tended to overlook a fundamental aspect of

American Indian plant use. “Herbalists insist that in order to choose the

proper medicine for any situation, a healer must ‘come to know plants’ as

living beings. It is not the plant alone that cures; the healing comes from

the greater power that exists within the spirits of the plant, the healer,

the patient, and the culture.”9 From their perspective, a plant remedy

contains a spirit that procures the desired results.10 To that end medic-

inal plant gathering, preparation and use are all governed by prescribed

rituals involving prayers, offerings, taboos and the proper handling and

preparation actions. Some medicinal plants “may be gathered only after

they have been asked to help the patient and a small token payment left in

their place.”11 Often it is the case that only the leaves from a certain side

of the plant or the moss from a certain side of the tree may be taken.12


The most powerful Micmac herb can only be found by being led to it by

the song of a particular bird. Otherwise, it remains invisible to humans.13

If the correct ritual procedure is not followed, the gathered plants will

be ineffective. For example, Cherokee shamans, who followed strict gath-

ering procedures, even tested their plants once gathered.

When the roots, herbs, and barks which enter into the prescrip-

tion have been thus gathered, the doctor ties them up into a conve-

nient package, which he takes to a running stream and casts into

the water with appropriate prayers. Should the package float, as it

generally does, he accepts the fact as an omen that his treatment

will be successful. On the other hand, should it sink, he concludes

that some part of the preceding [gathering] ceremony has been

improperly carried out and at once sets about procuring a new

package, going over the whole performance from the beginning.14

The gathered plants are then ritually prepared and compounded, usually

brewed into a tea, and ritually administered to the patient.

The Apache herbalists had equally complex rituals. “In gathering the

herbs, in preparing them, and in administering the medicine, as much

faith was held in prayer as in the actual effect of the medicine. Usually

about eight persons worked together in making medicine, and there were

forms of prayer and incantations to attend each stage of the process. Four

attended to the incantations and four to the preparation of the herbs.”15

Here again, we find ritual actions designed to increase one’s focus of

concentration, intention, will and power of prayer in order to bring about

a successful cure. All of these actions are related to the observer effect. It

is the input of their consciousness (their observations) that empowers the

herbalist’s medicine beyond the efficacy of the plant itself.

Most often herbal remedies were compounds of several plants. The

remedy was usually brewed into a tea and drunk or applied directly to the

body. In rare cases the medicine was injected into the skin. For instance,

Chippewa women would sometimes use a technique known as “tattooing,”

where the lower jaw of a gar fish was soaked first in the medicine, and then

the needle-like teeth are tapped against the skin of the patient at the point

of pain.16 Again, the instructions often include various purification rituals,

how much tea to administer, specific prayers to be recited and songs to be

sung when drinking the tea, etc. The known herbal remedies also tell us

the kinds and extent of ailments found in each culture. Moerman lists 582

treatments classified as Eye Medicine. This high number of cures for eyes

he attributes to their living in smoke-filled houses.17

Perhaps the most popular myth concerning the Indians’ use of plants

for healing is how they came by their knowledge of them. With few excep-

tions most writers on Indian herbal knowledge have opted for the assump-

tion that local plant use was discovered through trial and error over a

long period of time, and subsequently passed down from generation to

generation.18 Along with this assumption comes the notion that their

repertoire of plants would also increase over time. Most anthropologists

still offer this explanation. “Knowledge that works, even among primitive

men, is always arrived at by experimentation,” declared Clark Wissler.19

This proclamation was an act of logical deduction, not a fact gleaned from

fieldwork. Those who have interviewed indigenous herbalists concerning

how they acquired their plant knowledge get a very different response.

The ethnographic records clearly indicate they learn what plants to

use from their spirit helpers and dreams, as well as from other herbal-

ists.20 The Ojibwa “have a special god presiding over the most noted herbs

of the earth. These are subject to this being who is called the god of medi-

cine. Men or women are capable of learning the virtues of roots from him,

and often fast in order to gain his favour.”21 “The [Ojibwa] herbalist did not

credit his extensive knowledge to study and experimentation, but rather

to knowledge received from the manidos [spirit helpers] in his dreams.”22

David Lewis, a contemporary Creek medicine man, also received his plant

knowledge from spirits. “Indian medicine is strong. The little folk [spirits]

tell me what the sickness is and the potions for the cure. I then go to the

woods hoping to find the proper herb, flower or seed to mix. Sometimes I

cannot find them and I have to look in the woods far away from here.”23

The same holds true for the Sioux.

Fools Crow rejected any suggestion that the medicines used

by the Sioux were arrived at by a trial and error process. To him,

that would be the same as saying that the best Wakan-Tanka could

do for humans was to leave them to their own devices, or...that

Wankan-Tanka did not care enough about the people...“To accept

such a thing,” the old holy man said, “makes the Higher Powers


ogres rather than loving Beings. I, and all other medicine people,

have been and are led by Wakan-Tanka and the Helpers [spirits]

to the plants that we need for healing. Just as They are involved

in all of the curing ways, so too They are involved in choosing the

plants. What I use from my medicine bundle or get from the fields

and forest is not an accidental thing. I use many medicines, yet I

have never given a person a medicine that has made them more

ill, or has even caused a side-effect. Only the medicines of white

doctors do that.”24

Later in this chapter I will describe a healing ceremony I attended in

which the spirits brought in the necessary plant medicines.

Of course herbal discoveries were passed down through word of mouth,

but they always entailed some form of ritual empowerment of the plants

used. For example, among the Onondaga there was a ceremony conducted

each spring and fall to empower a plant medicine they used for healing

wounds. A man discovered the plant by hearing a tune coming from it.

The ritual is an all-night ceremony that ends with a feast at daybreak.

William Beauchamp reports:

Those who take active part in this feast are all medicine men,

but chiefs may be present and those who have been cured by medi-

cine. While these things are going on inside the house, the young

people are having a merry time outside, and the remnants of the

feast are theirs when those inside are done. The tune heard at its

discovery is sung when this medicine is used, both at the feast and

at its administrations. The ceremonies are thought [should read

“known”] to make it effective.25

From their point of view any use of medicinal plants must be accom-

panied by the proper songs, purifications rituals, prayers, etc. to make it

efficacious.26 Quantum mechanics makes these actions necessary.

Medicinal plants were usually kept individually wrapped in an animal-

skin medicine bag. Now if plant knowledge was simply a matter of being

passed down through time, then one would expect to find the contents of

these medicine bags to be rather similar within any nation. However, this

is definitely not the case. Each herbalist had his own special repertoire of

plants. Here is an 1877 report, filed by a Winnipeg, Manitoba correspon-

dent for the New York Post (appearing in the Evening Post edition).

The contents of an Indian medicine bag would make the heart

of the ordinary herb-doctor leap for joy. I once had an opportu-

nity of examining several of them that had been cast aside by

their owners. The bags were formed by the skins of various wild

animals...Each article of the large assortment they contained was

carefully wrapped in a separate parcel by itself, and duly labeled

as to contents by means of certain hieroglyphics. These packages

revealed a varied stock of ingredients. There were dried herbs of

many varieties, bark and leaves of strange plants and trees; many-

colored powders of the finest quality, and evidently demanding

great care in their preparation...but a total absence of liquids, or

any vessel that could be used to carry them. There were several

plants common to all the bags, such as sarsaparilla and the like,

but the rest differed greatly, and the materia medica of each prac-

titioner seemed to be the result of individual choice and research.

Still, with this strange collection of remedies, the medicine-men

effect some wonderful cures. Especially successful are they in the

treatment of gun-shot wounds, and I have known some cases of

recovery, under the skillful treatment of a conjuror, that seemed

but little short of miraculous.27

Both shamans and herbalists treated wounds.28 The Upper Yukon

shamans had an interesting method of treating wounds. “If a wound

bleeds profusely, the medicine-man gets a piece of king salmon skin the

size of the palm and cleans it of scales. He takes this between his palms

and has another Indian hold his hand together for security; then, as the

medicine-man blows, the salmon skin disappears, going into the wound,

where it forms a membrane and stops the bleeding. This is extracted again

when the wound is healed.”29

The medicine bags of powerful shamans will also be found to contain

medicinal herbs along with items associated with their altar display and

spirit powers. Here is one early example of such a bag.


There were dried herbs in quantity, leaves, barks, roots and

stems. Here a claw, there a tooth, yonder an ear. One package

contained a beak and feather, another a human nail. Our search

brought to light small images of wood carefully wrapped and

labeled. These were the totems that preside over the use and effects

of the medicine, and without their presence in the pouches the

skill of the Indian doctor would avail nothing…We found in the bag

we examined representations of the sun and moon, and some odd

pieces of wood carving supposed to represent the human figure.30

As mentioned, when spirits do reveal information concerning the

healing properties of a particular plant, it is always accompanied by

specific ritual instructions regarding its gathering, preparation, storage,

and administration. The use of medicinal plants was never seen in terms

of simply picking a plant and giving it to a patient. Instead, the efficacy of

the plant depended solely on the proper ritual use being adhered to. For

example, it was often the case that in gathering a plant root, it was to be

removed from the ground without breaking the root. Godfrey Chip’s “white

root” medicine plant has this taboo. The plant has a three-foot root on it

such that harvesting this plant is a difficult task that involves digging a

deep hole along side the root. It takes a lot of time and patience to gather

this medicine. As with hunting animals, medicinal plant gathering also

involves purification rituals that normally include asking the plant for

permission to be taken and offerings being made to the plant after taking

it. Any mistake made in the prescribed ritual procedures causes the plant

to lose its medicinal efficacy. Furthermore, such procedures were kept

secret by herbalists, and therefore have rarely been recorded.

Another fact that is little known about Indian medicinal plant use

is that plants were most often administered in compounds, mentioned

above, consisting of several different plants blended together in prescribed

ratios. These formulas are unknown for the most part. For example, there

was a Chippewa herbalist who knew sixty-four remedies, one of which had

twenty-two ingredients.31 The Chippewa also had a “thirty-two medicine”

that was compounded from thirty-two different plants.32 Furthermore,

different herbalists are reported to use the same plant, often prepared in

the same or very similar ways, for quite opposite purposes.33 This is yet

another indicator that the herbalist’s ritual actions that go with plant use

is an important factor, without which there is no success. Unfortunately,

most of this knowledge has been lost. Although we know the names of

many different medicinal plants that were used by the American Indians,

we know virtually nothing about how to compound them, the amount to

administer to the patient, or the prayers and songs that go with their use.

Diagnostics

The first step in any shamanic healing ceremony is a formal request

made to the shaman by the patient. If the patient is too sick to do so, a

relative will usually make the formal request. Shamans do not volunteer

their services.34 The major exception to this rule is when an evil shaman

inflicts an illness on an individual, and then comes up with an expensive

cure. Nevertheless, shamans are usually alerted by their spirit helpers

when a request is on the way.35 The reason the patient must take the

initiative is directly related to the observer effect. The patient must believe

in the power of the shaman in order for the healing to be successful. Any

doubt that arises during a ceremony can cause it to fail, so the belief of the

patient in the entire healing process is critical for success.

Each Indian culture has its own formalized procedure for making a

request for healing. Among the Lakota it is customary to bring a filled

sacred pipe and present it in a formalized manner to the shaman when

asking for a healing. First the request is stated and then the pipe is

presented. The shaman will hold his arms forward with the palms up. The

pipe is then placed four times into his palms, taking it back on the first

three times. If on the fourth placement into the shaman’s palms he takes

the pipe, it means he will undertake the healing. If his hands do not close

around the pipe, it signals refusal. In other cultures it may be as simple

as bringing some tobacco or cornmeal to the shaman. In some cases the

request is made in a rather indirect manner, such as bringing a gift to the

shaman, talking about ordinary affairs, and eventually getting around

to talking about one’s sick relative.36 Those who do not follow the proper

request format, whatever it may be, are usually turned away.

Any healing request also involves a large payment for the shaman

as well. Given our own interest in money, this aspect of a healing cere-

mony is rarely overlooked in the records. Often the payment is seen to

deem the worth of the shaman such that small payments are seen as an


insult. Other factors such as the social rank of the patient, the length

of the treatment, or seriousness of the case could also determine the

payment.37 In some cases if the shaman “refused to attend a patient when

summoned, he was compelled to pay, in the event of the latter’s death, an

amount of property equal that proffered him for his services.”38 In addi-

tion the patient, often with the help of relatives, must bear the expense

of sponsoring all the necessary ceremonies that need to be conducted.

However, this high personal cost is best seen in the context of quantum

mechanics. The expense is a form of instilling faith in the patient that a

cure is possible. You gave until it hurts, and only then is it real. This also

brings out humility in one’s being, and humility is a necessary ingredient

for the sincere prayers that must accompany the healing ceremony. It

also serves to instill belief and trust in the shaman’s abilities. From the

Indians’ perspective it would be more correct to use the word “offering” or

“gift” instead of “payment.”39 Basically, the payment serves to bring forth

the necessary qualities of being that insure the success of the observer

effect.

One of the current myths about shamans, even among Indians, is that

shamans should not charge for their services.40 Historically, there is little

evidence of this ever happening. In fact, the common attitude was that

“medicine had no power unless it was well paid for.”41 Medicine people

were well paid for their services, and were often the wealthiest members

of their society, but in a few societies were not rich.42 Not only were they

well paid for performing a healing ceremony, they were also well paid for

passing on any of their medicine knowledge to a novice.43 True, shamans

normally returned any payment given to them if the ceremony failed or

the patient died.44 If a shaman lost several patients, he would either be

accused of witchcraft or lose standing in the community. It is also true

that shamans usually did not set their fee, although there are cases where

the shaman’s spirit would set a fee.45 It was up to the patient to give an

amount that would not insult the shaman, and this quite often meant

calling upon relatives to help out. Again, during the initial request the

shaman would signal in some manner his acceptance or rejection of the

payment. For example, among the Wintu the shaman would breathe on

the gifts presented to him if he accepted the healing.46

Once a healing request is accepted the shaman will usually begin by

performing a diagnostic ceremony. Remember, it is the shaman’s spirits

that do the healing. So he must ask them if a healing is possible and what

is to be done in each case.47 Because most shamans were able to cure

only certain diseases,48 the diagnosis may indicate the need for another

shaman to perform the treatment. Sometimes the spirits will tell him that

the patient is “too far gone” to be healed, and the gifts will be returned

and no ceremony performed. This is an important point, going back to the

understanding that shamans are all-knowing, but not all-powerful. That

is, there appear to be physical limits to how much reality can be altered,

especially when dealing with the human body, the most complex organism

on the planet. Consequently, those who wait until the bitter end to seek

out a shaman often find there is nothing that can be done for them.

Western diagnosis is dominated “by the enormous power of the idea

within medicine that disease is fundamentally, even exclusively, biolog-

ical.”49 This is not the case for Indian healers where the source is most

often seen as coming from the “invisible” world or by one’s actions. Illness is

usually diagnosed as being caused by sorcery, breach of taboo,50 disease-

object intrusion, spirit intrusion, or soul loss, each of which requires a

different form of treatment. Not every nation carries these five sources,

but many do.51 There are even ceremonies for recovering one’s lost spirit

helper.52 Put more succinctly, “the illness suffered is attributed to the

impairment of spiritual relationships. The physical symptoms of illness

are only the manifestations of this situation.”53 Furthermore, another core

difference is that Indian healers are not concerned about the precision

with which a particular diagnostic technique is performed, as is the habit

of western medicine. Instead, the diagnosis depends more on the healer’s

intuition/sensitivity and the power of his helping spirits.54 Indian diag-

nosis is really a form of divination. For example, the patient need not even

be present for the diagnosis.55 Consequently, there is no trial and error in

Indian prognosis, however diagnosis may continue throughout the course

of a healing ceremony causing shifts in the prognosis.

Of course diagnosis, like divination, comes in many different forms.

Some shamans will gaze at the patient through a crystal to “see” the

illness.56 Ojibwa shamans use a gourd rattle.57 Mono shamans stick

an arrow in the ground and watch its motion.58 The already mentioned

Cherokee “tossing of the beads” was used for prognosis, diagnosis, and

healing.59 The Tuscarora of North Carolina also used a form of bead divi-

nation for prognosis.60 Examining the clothing of the patient by holding

them (i.e., psychometry) was also a widespread technique, especially in


the Southeast.61 There was a Lillooet shaman who used “a large stone

about half a metre square” to foretell whether his patient would die or live.

He heated the stone in the fire until it was red-hot. Then,

taking a large feather, he pierced the center of the stone with the

quill, lifted the stone up by it, and carried it four times around

the fire in the direction of the sun’s course. Then he put it down,

pulled the feather out, and said the patient would live. If the stone

fell from the feather while being carried around, the patient would

die a lingering death. If the feather would not pierce the stone, he

would die soon.62

Quite often shamans simply used their hands. Wintu healer Flora

Jones used this method.

The shaman drinks clear water, then a solution of acorn water

from a small container—an offering to the helping spirits. With the

diagnostic powers of the spirit-helpers acting through her hands,

she begins to move her fingers carefully across the patient’s body

sensing unseen, internal injuries or abnormalities.

[Flora explains,] “I feel for sores, the aches, and the pains.

When I put my hand over the body I can feel every little muscle

and every little vein. I can feel the soreness. It hurts me. If they

have heart trouble, my heart just beats. Any place they are hurting

I hurt. I become part of their body.”

If the spirits (find) the source of the sickness, they prescribe

for the patient’s care, speaking through the shaman. Remedies

may be offered for both physical and psychological ills and often

include traditional herbal medicines, which Flora meticulously

collects and stores.63

One of the simplest forms of diagnosis was for the shaman to access

the SSC in order to “see” the illness, sometimes covering his eyes in some

manner.64 Recall that in a deep trance the spirit’s voice will speak through

the shaman.65 Dick Mahwee, a Paviotso shaman, renders a typical trance-

induction report.

I smoke [tobacco] before I go into trance. When I am in trance

no one makes any noise. I go out to see what will happen to the

patient. When I see a whirlwind I know that it caused the sickness.

If I see the patient walking on grass and flowers it means that

he will get well; he will soon be up and walking. When I see the

patient among fresh flowers and he picks them it means that he

will recover soon. If the flowers are withered or look as if the frost

had killed them, I know that the patient will die. Sometimes in a

trance I see the patient walking on the ground. If he leaves foot-

prints I know that he will live, but if there are no tracks, I cannot

cure him.

When I am coming back from the trance I sing. I sing louder

and louder until I am completely conscious. Then the men lift me

to my feet and I go on with the doctoring.66

Another simple form of diagnosis is the use of dreams, whereby once

a healing request has been made, the shaman’s helping spirits appear to

him in a dream with their reply.67

Some Indian cultures have specialists who conduct the diagnosis, but

for the most part each shaman has his own technique for doing so.68

Godfrey Chips uses his Five-Stick Ceremony, so named because there are

five, upright sticks along the front of his ceremonial altar. This diagnostic

ceremony was passed down through his family and is not known by any

other shaman. Because each helping spirit carries a particular ability,

it happens that sometimes the shaman accepting the request needs to

find another shaman to conduct the healing. When a plant medicine is to

be used in the healing, the spirit will indicate it and may even name the

person who is to prepare it.69 The spirit will also indicate how many nights

a healing ceremony is to be performed. The general rule is the more diffi-

cult the case, the more time spent on the cure. Or, as a physicist would see

it, the greater the change in reality, the more time spent in empowering

the necessary observer effect.

Again, preparation for a diagnostic ceremony, as for any sacred cere-

mony, involves different forms of purification. For the Lakota a sweat lodge

ceremony takes place prior to the diagnostic ceremony, or the participants

are steamed off before entering the ceremonial room. The ceremonial altar

needs to be set up in an exact manner, and all items used in the ceremony


initially need to be smudged. All these steps serve in part as mental prep-

arations for everyone involved and they are designed to put you into your

heart mode for praying.

I find it interesting that Godfrey once told me that it is more diffi-

cult for him to perform a diagnostic ceremony than a healing ceremony.

The reason being that in going into a diagnostic ceremony everything

is unknown. However, once the spirits have outlined the healing of the

patient during the Five-Stick ceremony, Godfrey needs only follow their

instructions. Gearld Kisto, a Pima/Papago healer, echoed this view when

he reported:

Indeed diagnostics is the hard part of healing. I work with the

whole, total individual, spiritually, mentally. I look for roots of

illness, signs, symptoms. Things are interrelated. Cognitive

back-ups come in other forms if just the symptoms are treated.

Sometimes I touch people at points, and palpitate them all over.

I try to promote balance. What is key is having a good connec-

tion with a power that is greater than us—whatever you call it,

Jehovah, Jesus, Allah, whatever word.70

I have not found this fact recorded in the early records, probably

because it goes contrary to our medical notions where the cure is always

assumed to be more difficult than the diagnosis.

Healing Ceremonies

Not unlike ourselves, human life was given great respect in all Indian

nations. One rarely reads of a murder or suicide within a close-knit band.

Obviously then, those medicine people who had acquired sufficient medi-

cine powers for healing human illnesses were held in highest esteem by

their people.71 Healing shamans were known to have great powers, yet you

rarely find a shaman who has the power to heal any affliction. Patients

must seek out a shaman who is known to be able to cure their partic-

ular disability. Self-healing, the healing of one’s self, was largely confined

to shamans.72 Given this limitation, one can assume that it was not in

vogue to accumulate too many medicine powers. The ethnographic record

confirms this to be the case. In addition, there was sometimes a limit to

how many times a healing power could be used .73 There was also very

little, if any, talking about one’s medicine powers to others.74 It was not

unusual for such knowledge to remain only among family members. One

of the main reasons shamans didn’t seek out numerous medicine powers

is because they are never free.75 There is always a form of reciprocity such

that any medicine power always comes with obligations. Instructions from

the spirits vary, and can be as simple as a food taboo or as complex as a

highly detailed altar display for feeding a sacred object. The fact is one can

handle only so many obligations.

It should be noted that the acquisition of a healing power is often

associated with sickness. Referred to as the “shaman’s call,” sickness can

be a sign of becoming a shaman. George Snooks gave one explanation

for it. “When you become a doctor, you always get sick…The dream, or

spirit, which he dreams about puts something in him—whatever the spirit

thinks is best. It goes to one spot in the child’s body—like telephone wires

going to central—a concentration in one spot. It is too strong for the child.

He is not able-bodied, strong enough. He gets sick.”76

Healing ceremonies are flexible. Shamans often spontaneously use

alternate healing techniques or call on additional shamans as needed.

For example, the Utes spontaneosly used feathers, particularly the fine

feathers of eagles, to restart a heart that had stopped beating during a

healing.77

Medical anthropologists are hesitant to recognize that trance states

are an access to a totally different reality with a different set of operating

rules. They are more interested in looking for ways in which different

cultures influence the course and experience of human illness. In so

doing, trance experiences are reduced to “a mode of shaping and appre-

hending reality that is a broadly available human potential.”78 They don’t

see trance-induction techniques as a means for altering reality. This is an

important point. When viewed as a means for altering reality, it means

that Indian healing becomes focused on the source of the disease instead

of its symptoms, as found in western medicine. For example, our physi-

cians focus on getting rid of cancer in the body, while shamans focus on

getting rid of what is causing the cancer in the first place. Consequently,

the actions of shamans rarely make sense to a western observer.

Generally speaking, shamanic healings are more dependent on the

powers of the shaman’s helping spirits than on the use of medicinal

plants. So much so that one often reads of the shaman being surprised

that a healing was effected.79 Nevertheless, it is common for a shamanic


healing ceremony to also entail the use of one or more plants, usually

administered to the patient in the form of a tea. Quite often we find that

the shaman, like the herbalist, must first empower a plant medicine, often

by blowing his breath on it.80 Here again, we find that the shaman is told

what plant to use by a helping spirit. However, unlike most herbalists,

powerful healing shamans also experience their spirits manifesting the

needed plant medicines during a ceremony.81 Both men and women had

healing powers, but one rarely finds them working together in ceremony.

In fact, women and men rarely danced together in sacred ceremonies, the

Ghost Dance being one of the major exceptions.82 Most healing shamans

were women who had passed menopause and older men.

We know very little of their psychological treatments for the simple

reason the psychologcial aspects of human illness as developed by

Sigmund Freud and others were late in coming. Early ethnographers were

not trained to delve into this subject. Already mentioned was the Indians’

awareness of the workings of the subconscious mind long before Freud

“discovered” it. They did treat “soul loss” and “spirit possession.” These

are two different types of psychological illnesses that have specific symp-

toms not recognized by western psychiatrists and psychoanalysts. We are

also well aware of the fact that shamans acted as psychotherapists. For

example, the dream analysis of the Iroquois that deals with an individ-

ual’s ondinnok (subconscious desires), has been well documented,83 and

given much needed recent clarification by Mann.84 In fact, shamans often

diagnosed human illnesses as having a behavioral origin. Sickness can be

caused by how you have been acting or something you did. Furthermore, if

cured, you need to change your behavior or your sickness will return. This

is clearly indicated in the Navajo concept of “walking in beauty” as the

indicator of good health, where the goal of a “chantway” or “sing” (healing

ceremony) is to put the patient back into harmony with his heart mode,

his environment and the spirit world.85 Here again the focus is not on

treating the symptoms, but rather on the underlying cause of an illness.

For the Navajo “the therapeutic and prophylactic effects of a ceremonial

on a person are not actually most central and in many cases not even

expected.”86 This same thought is expressed among the Whapmagoostui

Cree where their word for “health” translates as “being alive well.”87

We see that Indian healing treatments focus mainly on the cause of

an illness and other cultural factors that go to define “health” from their

perspective. This is what we call a “holistic” approach to medicine, and

includes giving attention to psychologically based illnesses. Indian healing

focuses on bringing the patient back into “balance” and “harmony,” to

make the patient “whole” again. The attitude held by the northern Dene

is quite typical. “Inkoze [medicine power] is a greater realm that contains

human life and experience within it. Its nature is dynamic, convoluted,

and beyond human understanding. To be human, to be Dene, is to seek

inkoze power within that greater realm and to live in harmony as a partic-

ipant within a realm that humans cannot control.”88

I am certain Indian healers were well aware of post traumatic stress

disorder, and knew how to treat it effectively. Every war raid was followed

by a ceremony in which precautions were taken against the ghosts of

slain enemy. This is particularly true in regard to scalps taken in war

raids, as there were elaborate rituals for handling them as well as puri-

fying returned warriors. On the Northwest Coast heads of the enemy were

often brought back as war trophies, also accompanied by strict ritual

handling.89 I suspect that if we had details of such ceremonies, we would

clearly see that they were designed, in part, to heal the psychological

wounds of war. Such methods have continued to the present day. For

instance, Ritzenthaler makes a passing comment that all the Wisconsin

Potawatomi World War I veterans were told to attend a sacred bundle

ceremony upon discharge from the army.90 This bundle is used to “wipe”

them. Modern war ceremonies are also known. The Cibecue Apaches held

a “war dance” to protect seven of their men entering the army at the begin-

ning of World War II. They were given the power of the bat, which “enabled

him to dodge bullets with the same ease as a bat avoids obstacles in the

dark. The power worked impressively, for although two of the soldiers were

wounded, all seven came home alive.”91 I suspect this power also aided in

their psychological stability during the war.

Because spirit-given powers come and go, the efficacy of any shaman

was a matter of constant conversation. For this reason there were no

“fake shamans” found in Indian cultures. Such con men were found only

among the whites. A shaman who failed several times was sometimes put

to death by the relatives of the dead patient. So there was good reason

to avoid fraud. Naturally as their success grew, their reputation spread.

Great healers gained great renown, and were usually held in high respect

beyond the boundaries of their own nation. It is not unusual to read of

shamans traveling to neighboring villages to treat the sick.92 Handleman

interviewed Henry Rupert, a Washo shaman, who had treated patients


in eleven communities in Nevada and seven in California.93 Although the

majority of his patients were Washos, they also included Northern Paiute,

Shoshone, Mexicans, Hawaiians, and whites. He first became famous

among his own people in 1909 for curing a man of typhoid fever after

western doctors and other shamans had failed.94 The renown of Indian

healers also spread to nearby white settlements, and there are numerous

early accounts of whites being successfully treated by shamans where

western doctors had failed, as well as whites witnessing successful heal-

ings.95 There are also more recent accounts of whites being treated by

Indian shamans.96 Because the efficacy of any shaman is known, many

Indians still seek out traditional modes of healing and health care.97

By the 1800’s Indian healing accounts appeared in local newspapers.

G. A. Stockwell, M.D., published a three-part article in The Independent

newspaper of New York City during September 1883. He witnessed the

healing of a man with a paralyzed arm during an Ojibwa Medicine Lodge

healing ceremony, and many others healings.98 He concluded:

My readers may smile perhaps at the assertion, more particularly

as coming from a physician, but it is nevertheless a fact that many

seemingly marvelous cures result from the conjurations of “medi-

cine men.” I have known individuals entirely relieved of rheuma-

tism, paralysis, fluxes, fevers, etc., by such means...even rise and

walk when, an instant previous, they could scarcely move hand or

foot, and many other equally curious and astonishing results.99

The Grand Medicine Society (or Lodge) of the Ojibwa, known today as

the Midewiwan or Mide society, but appearing in earlier reports in many

various forms such as Medawe or Medewin, was one of the most wide-

spread medicine societies. Normally the society contains four different

levels of proficiency in medicine powers, and their shamans advance in

degree as they become knowledgeable in the use of various powers.

It is necessary for a candidate to the Mede´win to pass through the

four degrees, that he may avail himself of the power to invoke each

of these gods, or man´edos…Those who have successfully passed

through the four degrees of the Mede´win are considered or at least

expected to be competent to foresee and prophesy events, to cure

disease and to prolong life…and to aid others in attaining desires

not to be obtained by any other means other than through the

intercession of a Mide.100

The main power of their ceremonies rests in small white sea shells,

known as mide-miigis or mide shells, which were reported in William

Warren’s early account written circa 1852.101 Each mide shell carried a

“charge of life,” and the smaller it was the more powerful it was considered

to be.102 The leader of a Midewiwan performance was referred to during

ritual activities as “Shell.”103

Part of the initiation of members into this society involved the shooting

of their sacred mide shells into the body of each initiate. Such shooting

also occurred during advancement to higher mide degrees. In 1857 at Red

Lake, Minnesota, anthropologist Walter Hoffman had a Midewiwan cere-

mony birch scroll from around 1825 interpreted to him. In noting a society

member of the second degree he reported, “The small disk upon the breast

of the figure denotes that a Mide of this degree has several times had

the migis—life—‘shot into his body,’ the increased size of the spot signi-

fying amount or quantity of influence obtained thereby.”104 “The migis

was discharged from the furry hide of a small animal, like otter, whose

spirit master was a midé patron. Each midé initiate and officer personally

owned such a mystic hide, called wayan, and a number of shells.”105

Great care was given by society members to their sacred mide shells.

With proper “feeding” and ritual care these shells would reproduce within

their respective sacred otter-skin bundles. “Each shell was believed to

be immortal, reproducing young, so that a midé person never ran out of

shells.”106 This special characteristic of mide shells has been recorded

several times over the years. For example, Alice Ahenakew, a Cree whose

grandfather was a Midewiwan priest, reported, “Later I also used to see

these little shells, they used to keep them wrapped in fluffy down, and

these shells (I do not know what these shells are called), they used to

have offspring; they used to keep them.”107 This ability of a sacred amulet,

properly cared for, to reproduce itself is known elsewhere. For example,

Lakota sacred stones have been reported to reproduce themselves.


Sorcery was the mighty sanction behind midéwiwin. It was a

necessary aspect of the rite’s prestige, consistent with the Ojibwa’s

absolute conviction that a man’s power lies in ability to do evil,

knowingly. All midé officers were understood to be familiar with

ways of sorcery and were expected to practice these in varying

degrees, and all other shamans were regarded in the same light.

It was said that at the higher rite grades, from fifth or sixth on,

patients were taught sorcery. Visionaries bought formulas and

tools of sorcery, outside midéwiwin; an ambitious layman with no

known “powers” could also buy them. But if the layman’s capaci-

ties became marked or extensive, midé men were likely to coerce

him into their Society, to control him.108

As with other medicine powers, American Indian shamanic healing

ceremonies come in many different forms such as the False-Face ceremo-

nies among the Iroquois, the Medicine Lodge ceremony among the Ojibwa,

and the Northwest Coast Spirit Canoe ceremony.109 Healing shamans

come as singing doctors, dancing doctors, shaking-tent doctors, yuwipi

doctors, sucking doctors, and so forth. These are anthropological classifi-

cations based on the forms of healing ceremonies, and individual shamans

often end up in more than one class. For example, Chippewa shaking-tent

doctors were often sucking doctors as well.110 Among the Indians them-

selves, the shaman is usually termed according to the spirit obtained or

the ailment cured. For afflictions from toads there is the toad shaman,

for afflictions from rattlesnakes there is the rattlesnake shaman, and

for those who have a bear spirit, they are called bear shamans.111 Also,

every shaman’s altar display is different, so every ceremony is unique in

its details. Despite these differences, the quantum mechanics essentials

remain the same—a strong, focused will that is sustained and repeated

over time. Because spirits come with different healing powers, shamans

came to be classified by their specialties or spirit power—some can remove

bullets, some can set broken bones, some can heal wounds, and so forth.

Of all these basic forms, the sucking shaman is the most common form.

Typically the shaman locates the source of the ailment in the patient’s

body, then puts his mouth to that specific point and sucks out the disease.

In other cases an object is used for the extraction. Among the Gros Ventre

there was one shaman who used a woodpecker feather112 and another

shaman who used an animated weasel skin.113 Among the Alaskan Inuit

the healing object was called a kikituk, and was made from either wood or

ivory. When the shaman “performs with the kikituk: he has the kikituk

bite the place that is sick and it heals” because the kikituk “had the cura-

tive power of ‘biting’ the spirit that was causing a client’s illness.”114 The

disease-object is then removed and displayed to the participants, and

subsequently destroyed by throwing it into a fire, drowning it in water or

other prescribed means.115 In some cases the shaman swallows the object

to increase his powers. In very rare cases the shaman spits the removed

substance into the mouth of a novice shaman to assist in that person’s

development as a healer.116

Disease-objects come in a myriad of forms—living insects, stones,

lizards, etc. Although the shaman claims to extract this disease-object

from the body, whites always see it as a cheap palming trick. Of course,

when closely observed that is never the case. In the early 1800’s Edwin

Denig did just that:

We must, at the risk of not being believed, state that on two

particular occasions, and before witnesses, we have examined

the divining man’s mouth, hands, and all his person, which was

entirely naked, with the view of discovering where these worms,

snakes, etc., were hidden, and that these examinations were made

without any previous intimations to him who, never having been

subject to examinations of the kind by Indians, was completely

unprepared for the trial, yet he acquiesced cheerfully, afterwards

continued his performance, and repeated it in our presence,

drawing and spitting out large worms, clots of blood, tufts of hair,

skin, etc., too large to be easily secreted, and leaving no visible

mark on the patient’s body.117

Also in the early 1800’s Alexander Ross, a white trader in Oregon

who married an Indian woman, was also amazed by sucking doctors. He

reports:

The moment the bad spirit is gone out of the sick person the

tlaquillaugh [Okanagon medicine man] sucks the part affected with

his mouth to extract the bad blood through the pores of the skin,


which, to all appearances, he does effectively. How he manages

to do it I know not, but I have often watched him, and seen him

throw out whole mouthfuls of blood, and yet not the least mark

would appear on the skin [of the patient]. I have also examined the

tlaquillaugh’s mouth, supposing he might have cut it, but I could

never discover anything of the kind.118

Cushing, who lived among the Zuni, spoke to this very point. “We

aliens [whites] are the only ones of their witnesses who are deceived by

them in the way we accuse them of deceiving, for what they really attempt

to do is either to expose, or otherwise make as uncomfortable as possible,

the animate seat of the disease, and then to furnish it with a decoy, as it

were, a vehicle or body of escape.”119 Actually, the disease-object is not a

tangible object; it becomes objectified only when extracted by the shaman.

Henry Rupert put is this way. “It’s not a material object but it’s material-

ized that way.” Then he went on to explain that “will power’”accounted for

the transformation.120 Consequently the form of the disease-object is of

no consequence. The only thing that really counts is the intended obser-

vation, namely that the disease is removed from the body. For example,

sucking doctors had to abandon this technique once their healing ceremo-

nies became illegal. By the 1930’s Jack Fulsom, a California Yana, told

anthropologist Cora Du Bois, “Now doctors cure by preaching. They don’t

suck any more, they just brush the sickness off with their hands and the

power catches the pain [disease object]. God told the doctors not to suck.

It is old-fashioned. They preach by God now.”121

Sucking shamans were also called upon to remove actual objects

such as bullets. For example, there is a report of Otchipwe shamans

removing green rice from a child who had become sick by eating it, and

also removing a sturgeon bone swallowed by another child, bringing the

bone out through the child’s breast.122 Antwine, a Yakima shaman from

the Kittitas Valley in Washington could

extract pins, splinters of wood or other foreign substances from

any part of the human body, without pain to the patient. One case

was that of a woman suffering with a broken needle completely

imbedded in her hand. Two white surgeons had failed in giving

relief, suggesting an operation as the only remedy. Antwine pain-

lessly removed the corroding steel within a few minutes.123

Among the Iroquois the False-Face Society members were healers.

The Seneca also had a Husk-Face Society that healed. The False-Face

ceremony was also adopted by the nearby Mississaugas band of Ojibwas.

The masks are carved from a single piece of softwood, usually bass or

willow. The form to be taken by the mask was revealed in dreams. The

spirits “instructed the dreamers to carve likenesses in the form of masks,

saying that whenever anyone makes ready the feast, invokes their help

while burning Indian tobacco, and sings the curing songs, supernatural

power to cure disease will be conferred on human beings who wear the

mask.”124 This means there are as many false face types of masks as

there are individuals, even though similarities do exist. In addition, these

masks are treated as living beings as are all sacred objects. They are also

experienced as living beings.

“Some masks know in advance when they are to be used in

doctoring, and beads of sweat are seen upon them. Others perspire

when disaster is about to befall their owners; they also refuse to

hang straight under these circumstances, or when they have been

offended in some way. One mask is reputed to have had the power

to sweat blood as a warning of impending peril. Some fall from the

wall under such circumstances, and some drop down to announce

to the family of the owner the death of that individual, should it

occur away from home. One noted antique mask at Cattaraugus

was supposed to have been able to instruct other and newer masks,

and was in demand to put under cover with them so that it might

impart its knowledge and virtue to them.”125

Masks also played an important role in the healing ceremonies of the

Northwest Coast cultures. So much so that Captain Cook once remarked,

“So fond are they of these disguises, that I have seen one of them put his

head into a tin kettle he got from us, for want of another sort of mask.”126


Healing ceremonies require a great deal of continuous praying that

results in a continuous focus on the desired result by all of the ceremonial

assistants and participants. In difficult cases more than one shaman is

often called in to work on the patient. In some ceremonies the assistants

pray for the patient, and in others they pray for the healer. For instance,

in an Apache healing “ceremony where the medicine-man is singing to

cure the sick, you pray directly to him with pollen.”127 The general rule

is the more serious the case, the more you call upon others to attend the

ceremony. The more people you have praying, the stronger the observer

effect, and, consequently, the more likely the spirits will be successful.

Joseph Eagle Elk, a Lakota medicine man, experienced this fact during

the healing of a boy that everyone expected would die.

What we had that night…was tawacin wanjila—we were of one

mind, one desire…We did not have two or three patients all sitting

there looking for help. No, we had one people. We had one desire.

I learned how great power comes when we are one. In my many

years of practice, I have not seen the power really come that often.

But when it has come, we were all of one desire, one thought locked

on the person to be doctored.128 (The boy lived.)

La Flesche gives an amazingly detailed account of doctoring a six-

year-old child who was shot through the eye with the bullet coming out of

the back of his head. In this healing, over twenty medicine men led by four

main medicine men treated the boy for four days. This boy also lived.129

Quantum mechanics gives reason as to why you often read of more

ceremonial assistants being called on to assist in a healing. In the Lakota

healing ceremonies I have attend it is common for the patient to be advised

to invite relatives and friends to pray for success. One reads of ceremonial

assistants being hired as well. I suspect this is one of the reasons you

find medicine societies being formed. Their numbers provided the needed

power of sincere prayers. In early times it was often the case that the

patient, once healed, had to join the medicine society that accomplished

the healing. Each new member then contributed to the overall strength of

the particular ceremonies they performed.

As Eagle Elk noted, it is also true that healing ceremonies rarely have

more than one patient at a time being treated. The observer effect must be

singular in nature. Everyone must be of one mind focused on one result. If

there is more than one patient present, most likely there is more than one

shaman involved in the ceremony. Consequently, this is another limitation

to Indian healing. For example, the smallpox epidemics that decimated

many Indian nations during the 18th through 19th centuries brought forth

a new disease. Consequently no one had acquired the power needed to

combat it. Nevertheless, some Indian shamans were successful at curing

smallpox.130 However, it might take four days of ceremony to cure one

person. The problem with smallpox was the disease spread too quickly.

There was simply not enough time for one shaman carrying this power to

treat each and every individual before the disease took its toll.

Once a cure was successful, most often the patient is given specific

instructions to follow.131 I remember Godfrey Chips telling a patient, after

he had healed her back pain of thirty years caused by a broken back

in an automobile wreck, that she was to make seven tobacco ties every

day for the rest of her life. Such continuous observation serves to keep

the resultant healing intact. She continued to do so for several pain-free

years, but eventually stopped. Soon thereafter her back pain returned.

This indicates to me that some observations, once manifested, need to be

kept in place by subsequent actions and observations. For example, the

requirement to join the medicine society that healed you might also serve

this purpose as well as strengthening the prayers of the society.

Another repeated theme in healing ceremonies is the attention and care

given the patient from both the healer and the ceremonial participants.

In particular, a strong bond usually develops between the shaman and

patient.132 This is a necessity of quantum mechanics whereby the patient

must have implicit faith in the powers of the healer.133 Alice Fletcher,

who in the 1880’s was one of the first field ethnographers to study Indian

music, personally experienced this care when she became quite ill during

one of her many field studies among the Omaha.

My first field studies were crude and full of difficulties, diffi-

culties that I afterward learned were bred of preconceived ideas,

the influence of generally accepted theories concerning ‘savage’

music…During these investigations I was stricken with a severe


illness and lay for months ministered to in part by Indian friends.

While I was thus shut in from the rest of the world, with the Indians

coming and going about me in their affectionate solicitude, they

would often at my request sing for me. They sang softly because I

was weak, and there was no drum, and then it was that the distrac-

tion of noise and confusion of [musical] theory were dispelled [her

head mode stopped], and the sweetness, the beauty and meaning

of these songs were revealed to me. As I grew stronger I was taught

them, and sang them with my Indian friends, and when I was able

to be carried about, my returning health was celebrated by the

exemplification of the Wawan ceremony with its music.

The ceremony took place in a large earth lodge two or three

miles distant. I was laid in the bottom of a wagon and driven along

the bluffs of the Missouri river, overtaking men, women and chil-

dren on their ponies all headed toward the lodge, where we arrived

just as the sun dropped like a red ball below the horizon. A few

old men were sitting on the dome-like roof, while boys and dogs

chased each other up the grassy, flowery sides of the picturesque

dwelling. At the door of the long projection forming the entrance

to the lodge stood friends ready to welcome me. I was lifted care-

fully from the wagon bed, borne by strong arms within and placed

on a sort of lounge made of skins arranged nearly opposite the

entrance. The people gathered by scores until between two and

three hundred were seated around the central fire that leaped up

brightly making the blackened roof of poles shine like polished

ebony. Every one was glad and welcomed me with no uncertain

word or glance. Soon I heard the cadences of the ceremonial Song

of Approach. I knew the tune, I had been taught it in my sick-

ness, and now I listened understandingly to the familiar strains

as they came nearer and nearer until the bearers of the Pipes of

Fellowship were seen coming down the long entrance way, waving

the feather pendants of the Calumets [sacred pipes] they bore. As

they turned into the lodge the whole people took up the song and

I too joined, able at last to hear and comprehend the music that

had through all my difficulties fascinated even while it eluded me.

The occasion of this exemplification was one I can never forget, not

only because of the insight it gave me into the music of the people

and the meaning of the ceremony I witnessed, but because of the

deeper revelation of the heart and inner life of the Indian.134

Lakota healer Frank Fools Crow was a master at bonding with his

patients. He believed that

“the one who wishes to be a true medicine person must be a person

of faith, and they can only work successfully with those who also

have faith. Good intentions are not enough, and excuses are

not enough. The medicine person and the patient must be glued

together in faith for the curing or healing to occur...The first ques-

tion is always, how big is a person’s faith? Without a big faith,” he

continued, “there is nothing I or Wakan-Tanka can do to cure or

heal them. Faith is the first thing that brings the spiritual power

in. Of course, the rituals and the tools play a part in this, but

without faith there is no power and there is no movement.”

“As we continue together,” he went on, “you will notice that I

always place my hand on the people’s shoulders. You just didn’t

see it at first. I do touch them with my eyes, and I do see them with

my mind, but I also lay my hand on their shoulders—and this is

what tells me the most. If they truly believe in me, in themselves,

and in Wakan-Tanka and the [spirit] Helpers, my hand will usually

become very hot. But if they do not believe in any one or all of us, it

will usually become very cold. My hand is never wrong.”135

Once Fools Crow undertook to heal a person he “talked with the person

for a long time about the way of curing. He patiently explained that what

he would do had its roots in ancient history. The way that Wakan-Tanka

would use was old and proven. Fools Crow himself had used all of his

methods many times with great success. As they talked, Fools Crow sifted

through the answers and compared the situation to others he had treated

that were like it.”136 Once the treatments were underway, he continued to

reinforce the faith of the patient.

“The person has to feel this,” he told me. “They have to know that

everything that I am doing is being sent to them in a basket of

love. Then, when it has reached them, their own love for me will


begin to grow. Watch closely, and sometimes during the four days

you will see them reach out and touch me on the cheek or the

shoulder. (Once God had given me eyes to see, I saw this happen

many times.) Then I know their love is as big as mine. When the

curing is done, we remain lovers for the rest of our lives. We are

closer than brothers and sisters, we are one in Wankan-Tanka.

This love has nothing to do with physical things, it has to do with

unity of heart and spirit and mind.”137

It is exactly this unity that enables the generation of the needed observer

effect for a successful healing.

In extreme cases a spirit can manifest to perform a healing without

being called. However, such reports are extremely rare. Leonard Crow Dog,

a fourth generation medicine men from the Lakota Crow Dog family, told

of such a spirit healing that happened to his great grandfather, Jerome

Crow Dog. One time Jerome led a party of young men from their Kit Fox

warrior society on a raid north to Cedar Valley. One morning a party

of Crow attacked them, and Jerome was badly wounded in the ensuing

battle. On the day prior to this he had received a warning from the coyote

spirit. A coyote was whooping four times. Crow Dog understood that the

coyote was saying, “Something is going to happen to you.” During the

battle on the next day he was wounded.

The Crow left him where he fell, thinking that they had killed

him. Crow Dog crawled under some stinkwood bushes—that’s a

coyote medicine. Then he blacked out. He couldn’t move. He was

lying like that for a long time, for days even. He was thirsty but

had nothing to drink. He was too weak to make it to the nearby

creek. He was cold inside and outside. He wasn’t even sure that

he was still alive. Then he heard the coyote whooping, “Huuuuuh,

huuuuuh, Crow Dog, I’m coming! Human being, listen, I’m coming

over.”

Pretty soon that coyote came and cuddled up to Crow Dog and

warmed him. He whooped like one coyote speaking to another,

“Huuuuuh, Crow Dog, I’ve come to doctor you. I brought you a

special kind of sage. Pick it up. Doctor yourself with it.” Crow Dog

had the wolf and the coyote power. He could understand their

language, understand it spiritually. Then a second coyote came,

and then a third, and, finally, the fourth. This one told Crow Dog

to eat that special sage and to roll up some of it in a ball. And the

coyote carried that ball of sage in his mouth and went to the creek.

He dipped it in the water and soaked it and brought it back that

way to Crow Dog, who used it like a sponge, drinking the water,

and when it went dry, the coyote carried it back to the creek and

soaked it some more and brought it, again and again, to keep Crow

Dog from dying of thirst.

One of the other coyotes brought Crow Dog taopi tawote, wound

medicine. The coyote chewed it up into a mush and told Crow Dog

to put it on the spot where the arrow had gone in. It made the flesh

tender, so that Crow Dog could pull the point out. And he put the

same medicine on the wound in his side and it began to heal fast.

He told all this himself to my father, Henry [Crow Dog].

On the fourth day after the coyotes had come to help, they

made Crow Dog understand that he was well enough to walk. They

talked among themselves and Crow Dog understood them. And

they whooped, indicating that he should follow them. The coyotes

scouted ahead for Crow Dog, warning him if enemies were close by.

These coyotes were wakan [holy]. A message from such a sacred

coyote could reach New York faster than a telegram.

And a crow appeared, caw-cawing, flying ahead, also showing

the way. Crow Dog followed that bird and followed the coyotes’

tracks on that spiritual trail, followed them all the way home to

his people’s camp.138

A Contemporary Yuwipi Healing

Among all the different Indian healing ceremonies that still exist, the

Sioux yuwipi ceremony is among the most powerful. Long sheltered in

secrecy, prior to the 1940’s little was known of this ceremony. The term

yuwipi is most often translated as “they wrap him up.”139 Indeed, at the

onset of the ceremony, the shaman is bound. First his fingers are tied

together behind his back, then a blanket is draped over his entire body,

and, finally, this blanket is wrapped with a long, single strip of rawhide.140

Consequently the shaman looks like a mummy once bound. He is then


laid to rest, face down, on a bed of sage. This binding elicits the pity of the

spirits such that once they enter the ceremony they begin by releasing him

from his bindings. Another distinguishing characteristic of this ceremony

is the many, small flashes of blue light that announce the presence of the

spirits.141 Because all of this occurs in a totally darkened room, many

people tend to assume that it is the shaman who makes these flashes

of light and unbinds himself. For example, one western physician who

attended one of Fools Crow’s yuwipi ceremonies concluded that the lights

were “apparently caused by a cigarette lighter without fluid.”142 This was

definitely a leap in logic. Lighter flints do not produce blue flashes, rather

they produce white sparks. In addition, Charles (Horn) Chips was once

forced by the reservation agent to perform his yuwipi ceremony in a well-

lit room. The lights still flashed about the ceiling with Horn Chips being

freed of his binding by the time they ceased.143

Godfrey Chips states that his great-grandfather,Woptura (or Old Man

Chips), was Crazy Horse’s close friend and gave him his protection medi-

cine that prevented bullets from hitting him. Later on his son, Horn Chips,

acquired the yuwipi ceremony from the spirits (detailed in Chapter 9).

However, Nick Black Elk claimed this ceremony came from the Santee.

As mentioned above, Godfrey’s first step is to conduct a Five-Stick diag-

nostic ceremony to determine how many nights of yuwipi healings will be

required to cure the patient. This usually ranges from one to four nights of

ceremonies. If more than four nights are required, the patient returns at a

latter date for another round. Both the Five-Stick and yuwipi ceremonies

are preceded by a sweat lodge (inipi) ceremony. If there is no sweat lodge

ceremony, then the ceremonial participants are steamed off by pouring

water over hot rocks as they enter the ceremonial room.

It usually takes over an hour for the ceremonial assistant to set up the

yuwipi altar. This is done by the light of one kerosene lantern. The altar

space, usually about eight by ten feet in size, is outlined by a string of 405

tobacco prayer tie offerings made by the patient during the day for this

ceremony. A new set of 405 prayer ties is required each night the ceremony

is performed. Four nights of ceremony require 1620 prayer ties. Once the

altar has been set up, or sometimes prior to the set up, the participants

enter the room seating themselves around the edges between the wall and

tobacco ties. During the ceremony, although it’s totally dark, everyone

must be careful not to place their feet on this string of sacred tobacco ties.

Any person who does touch the string will most likely get a sharp slap

from a spirit. The men sit on one side of the room and the women sit on

the other side.

Godfrey is the final person to enter the room. Once bound he is care-

fully lowered to the floor by two assistants holding the upper part of his

body, while a third assitant picks up his feet, whereby he is then carefully

placed onto a bed of sage face down. Then the lantern is extinguished,

and the ceremonial assistants begin singing the songs for this ceremony.

The appearance of his helping spirit(s) is marked by the sound of feet

dancing on the floor as well as the blue flashes of light. Sometimes the

entire house shakes as a spirit lands on the floor. Soon thereafter Godfrey

is released from his bindings. The patient is then asked to tell the spirits

why they have been called. Once this is done the doctoring of the patient

by the spirits begins. Three round skin rattles are used for this purpose,

having been initially placed on the altar display. The spirits pick up one or

more of these rattles and proceed to pat lightly upon the patient around

the affected area. Sometimes these rattles will fly about the room, hit the

ceiling, then hit the floor, each time giving off a flash of light. Godfrey’s

rattles are quite old and were handed down from his grandfather. Recently,

however, his spirits instructed him to make new rattles.

Once the spirits have finished doctoring the patient, songs are sung

to send them back. The lantern is then relit, and the participants partake

of a feast, the food having been placed within the altar space prior to the

onset of the ceremony. The conclusion of this feast marks the end of the

ceremony. In very serious cases, a puppy may be sacrificed. This animal’s

spirit then carries the plea for healing to the spirits. This same concept is

found elsewhere.144 (In historical times, only the Pawnee were known to

practice human sacrifice, even though slaves were purported to be killed

during some of the Northwest Coast shamanic initiation ceremonies.145)

As a yuwipi man advances in age, so will his curing abilities. Godfrey

received his yuwipi powers in 1967 at the age of thirteen, and by 1998 he

rose to the point where he acquired the “medicine to cure the incurable.”

This is the ultimate healing power among the Sioux. This means Godfrey

is one of those rare shamans whose spirits are capable of curing any

human illness, mental or physical.

During the spring of 2003 I assisted Godfrey during three different

healing ceremonies held in Kansas City. The first healing, conducted in

February, was a female patient name A. C. In August of 2002 she began

to lose sight in her right eye that had been preceded by an acute pain on


the same side of her head. She had an attack of what neurologists term

“optic neuritis.” Nothing is known of this syndrome, what causes it or how

to treat it. Although her sight soon returned, her neurologist warned her

that she had an 80% chance of developing MS (multiple sclerosis) at some

point in her life given her symptoms. It was that bad news that caused

her to arrange for a healing by Godfrey. Prior to this she had had only a

passing interest in Indian medicine ways, and had never even attended

a sweat lodge ceremony. So in that sense it was all new territory for her.

In October 2002 Godfrey performed a diagnostic ceremony without A.

C., who lived in Portland, Oregon, being present. It was determined that

she would need four nights of healing. However, much to my surprise

these healings were to take place in the sweat lodge instead of a ceremo-

nial room. I had never seen Godfrey conduct a healing in a sweat lodge,

but other Lakota medicine men have singularly used the sweat lodge as

their place of healing. As mentioned previously, Archie Fire Lame Deer

conducted all of his healings in the sweat lodge as had his father.

Once A. C. arrived from Portland by the following February, it was

determined that she was to also take three different medicinal herbs in

conjunction with her sweat lodge healings. However, the spirits did not

identify these herbs. Instead, they simply materialized them as needed.

On the first night a small bed of sage was placed in the lodge opposite

the entryway at the edge of the rock pit (pit in the center of the lodge into

which the hot rocks are placed). Like the yuwipi ceremonies, the spirits

were called in and appeared as small blue flashes of light in the lodge.

Several of the participants that night also saw various other spirit forms

in the lodge. When the ceremony was over and the lodge door opened,

lying on this bed of sage was a dried root about six inches in length. I

was instructed to break the root into several small pieces, place them

into a small pan of water, and boil up a tea on the sweat lodge fire. A. C.

then drank this tea while standing in front of the sweat lodge altar while

Godfrey sang a sacred song.

On the second night, the same thing happened again—spirits appeared

and another root materialized on the bed of sage. However, this time the

root was about nine inches in length and still fresh (i.e. pliable). This root

was also made into a tea which A. C. drank.

The spirits then told Godfrey that with the taking of the third herb, A.

C. would have to follow up with a four-day period of isolation. This is often

the case, and it allows for a quiet time for the medicine and spirits to work

on you. Since A. C. had not allowed for an extra four days in purchasing

her airline ticket, it was decided that she would return to her home in

Portland and take the final round of medicine once she could arrange

for four days free from work. The spirits responded on the last night by

bringing into the sweat lodge a protection stone, which appeared on the

same bed of sage instead of an herb. A. C.’s instructions were to wear this

stone until she took her final round of medicine. She then returned to

Portland wearing her protection stone.

Two weeks later she arranged to take Monday and Tuesday off from

work, and planned to start her four-day isolation on the preceding Friday

night. To that end, Godfrey came to my home in Kansas City on Thursday

afternoon, where we conducted a ceremony in which the spirits brought

in the final medicine into a darkened room we had prepared. This time it

was a bright orange, globular-looking piece of who-knows-what. I asked

Godfrey if he knew what it was, and he replied that he had never seen it

before. I then overnight expressed this medicine to A. C., who received it

the next morning. She went into isolation that Friday evening, took the

medicine, again as a tea, and remained in isolation for four days. That was

the end of her healing.

About three weeks later I received a rather distressed call from A.

C. who told me that the pain had returned to the right side of her head.

Godfrey and I were planning on doing a sweat lodge, so I told her he would

ask his spirits about it. What they said was, “That pain is not the pain we

doctored”, meaning that her pain was not another attack of optic neuritis.

Nevertheless, she then consulted her neurologist, who ran a number of

tests on her. The neurologist also concluded that it was not another attack

of optic neuritis, and advised her to see an eye-ear-nose-throat specialist,

which she did. He determined that the cause of her pain was from grinding

her teeth during sleep. This means she first learned from Godfrey’s spirits

that her pain was not another MS attack, then from her neurologist. Today

she remains in good heath with no further attacks or signs of developing

full-blown MS.

Finally, because Indian healing is capable of “miraculous cures” there

are also accounts of shamans resuscitating the dead.146 The following is

one such account that happened during a fight between the Peigan and

the Cree.


A Piegan named White Bear was trying to get closer to the enemy,

and a Cree crept up close to him and shot him through the body, the ball

entering at the kidneys and coming out at the shoulders. His companions

dragged the man to the camp. Soon after he died.

There was an old woman in the camp, a very powerful doctor,

and when she saw that the man was dead, she took her buffalo

robe and painted it on the head and on the back and down the

sides. She covered the boy with the painted robe, and then asked

for a dish of yellow clay and some water. When these were brought

to her, she untied from White Bear’s neck the skin of a little mole

that he used to carry about, and put the skin in the dish of yellow

clay. Then she began to sing her medicine song, and went up to the

dead man and caught him by the little finger and shook him, and

said, “Wake up.” At this time the lodge was crowded full, and many

stood about looking under the lodge skins, which were raised. The

woman would shake the robe which lay on the man, and say, “Wake

up; you are wanted to smoke.” After she had done this four times,

the fourth time she did it, this man moved. When he moved, the

old woman asked that the pipe be lighted. This was done and the

pipe handed to her, and after taking a small smoke and making a

prayer to the ghosts, she said to the young man, “Wake up,” and

at the same time pulled the robe off him. White Bear staggered

to his feet and reached out his hand to take the pipe, but the old

woman kept backing away from him, till she came to where stood

the dish of yellow chalk [clay] with the skin in it. There the man

took the pipe and began to smoke, and the blood poured from both

the bullet holes. He sat down beside the dish that had the mole

[skin] in it, and finally lay down and smoked, and when he smoked

he blew the smoke toward the mole and the yellow clay. When he

had finished smoking he covered the mole-skin over with a piece

of buckskin, and then after a minute or two took the skin off, and

the mole was there alive, scratching and digging in the yellow clay.

He lay down beside it, and the mole left the dish, ran over on to

his body, went to the bullet hole, put his head in it, and began to

pull out clots of blood. After it had done this at one hole, it ran to

the other and did the same thing, and when it had done that, it

went back to the dish and remained there, and White Bear again

covered it with the piece of buckskin. Then he took it off, and when

he did so, there was nothing there but the stuffed skin. After he

had sung a song, White Bear made a speech, saying that he had

been dead, but now he had come to life, and that after four nights

he would be well. The fourth day he was able to go about.147

The Entanglement of Evil Medicines

Wherever you find good shamans, you will also find evil ones, because

power is an amoral force.148 Recall that throughout all Indian nations the

attitude prevailed that a person without a spirit helper is most unfortu-

nate. Consequently, that gave rise to the attitude that an evil spirit helper

was better than no spirit helper. However, those who had an evil spirit

helper kept mum. This made people cautious. “One simply never knows

who is powerful and who is not, so it is best to be on the safe side and act

politely to everyone.”149 This attitude is based on the lurking notion an evil

shaman could attack you any moment. Even a good shaman might well

turn on a person if he became angered. For example, there is an account

of a Nisenan shaman who paralyzed a boy on the spot for simply farting

near him.150 There is also a Maidu story “of an event that occurred at

the funeral of a doctor’s son. A youth there spoke disparagingly of the

deceased. This angered the doctor, who approached the boy, clapped

her hands, cupped them, blew through them at the lad and loudly said,

‘Hesla-wo-pop!’ The boy was thereupon picked up by a gust of wind, which

turned him over and threw him back to the ground, killing him.”151 The

respect shown shamans was in part based on a healthy fear of them.

In the ethnographic records evil shamans are usually called witches

or sorcerers. However some researchers make a distinction whereby if

the action is psychic it is witchcraft and when performed it is sorcery.152

Examples of more common Indian terms include “two-hearts,” “night trav-

elers,” “night walkers” and “night goers.”153 “Two-hearts” speaks to their

being egotistical rather than remaining humble. “Flyers” refers to their

changing their form to fly about at night to their victims, often in the form

of an owl or simply a ball of light. “Night goers” indicates they gather in

the night to conduct their ceremonies. All of them have evil spirit helpers

they use to bring harm on people, or at least make them do things they did


not wish to do. These spirits are most demanding, sometimes requiring

“feeding” on a daily basis, and in some instances the taking of a human

life.154 In the worst cases a witch will make you ill and then charge you for

the cure. They are also paid to bring harm or death to a person. I suspect

this is a major reason one rarely reads of a murder being committed in

Indian cultures; it was done on the sly by hiring witches.155 For example,

among the Pueblos is has been noted “the persons supposedly killed by

witches must have greatly outnumbered the witches executed in retalia-

tion for those deaths.”156 Consequently, those who hired witches to bring

harm rarely suffered any consequence.

In regard to making persons do something they would not ordinarily

want to do, the earliest account I have found is that of a Catholic nun,

who was using a form of sorcery to convert Indians to Catholicism. It is

an interesting incident worth detailing. In this case it was María de Arana

Coronel, born in Ágreda, Spain on April 2, 1602. In 1615, María’s mother,

Catalina, “suddenly received a command from God requiring that her

husband and two sons should be evicted, and the house handed over to

its mistress for conversion into a nunnery,”157 which happened. María and

her mother both joined the nunnery, known today as the Convent of the

Conception. Eventually she became known simply as María of Ágreda (or

Sor María de Jesús in the Spanish at that time). Beginning in 1620, Mary,

as I will call her, was taken by her “angels” to the Southwest Area, where

she appeared among various Jumano villages and began converting them

to Catholicism in their own language. By 1631 it is estimated that she

had made over 500 such flights, and had become a familiar spirit to the

Indians of this region, known as the “blue lady” due to the fact that her

convent had adopted wearing the outer, blue mantle of the Conceptionist

Clares that was worn over the traditional nun’s brown habit of the day.

By 1629 news from Spain of Mary’s conversion efforts reached Father

Benavides, who was in charge of the mission of San Antonio de Isleta on

the Rio Grande below Albuquerque. They were somewhat stunned as they

had never heard of her, but immediately thought of the Jumanos, living

300 miles to the east in Texas, who had sought them out years earlier

asking to be baptized. The Jumanos had returned to the mission each

year thereafter to ask that a friar be sent to live with them. At the time

this news arrived from Spain it also happened to be the annual visitation

of the Jumanos. Without hesitation they were forthwith asked why they

had been coming every year to ask for a friar. It was only then that they

mentioned the “blue lady.” “The Indians were asked why they had never

mentioned this before, and they replied it was because they had never

been asked. It seemed that she was still paying them visits, and all the

Jumanos, even when interrogated separately, told the same story.”158

When Father Benavides returned to Spain, in August of 1629, he was

ordered to visit Mary and confirm her story, which he finally did in April

1631. The good father was delighted with what he heard from Mary, and

wrote in a letter to the friars in New Mexico as follows:

I don’t even know how to indicate to you the overwhelming

elation that I felt when the blessed mother [Mary] told me that

she had been present with me when I was baptizing the Piros

[Pueblos], and that she recognized me here in Ágreda as the friar

she had seen among those Indians. And she was present at some

of the baptisms made by Father Cristobal Quirés, and was able

to describe his figure and features…The Reverend Mother told me

that on one occasion when the father was baptizing in his church,

many Indians kept coming in and standing in a crowd at the door,

so she felt obliged to push them apart and make them arrange

themselves properly so that the service should not be disturbed.

The Indians looked about to see who was pushing and tugging

them, and laughed when they could not see who was doing this.

Also, the Reverend Mother told me everything that you and I know

really did happen to Father Juan de Salas and Father Diego López

on their mission to the Jumanos and admitted that it was she

who had persuaded the Indians to ask for missionaries, as in fact

they did. She could describe everybody and knew Chief One-Eye

(capitán tuerto) very well indeed. It was the Reverend Mother who

sent the embassy from Quivira to ask for a mission, as the Indians

there will tell you because she talks to them in person.159

Benavides was most perplexed as to why none of the missionaries

had ever seen her. “Mary answered that she supposed it was because the

Indians needed her, whereas the Franciscans did not; but she added that

she had no choice in the matter, as her angels attended to all the arrange-

ments for her visits.”160 As mentioned earlier, the Hopis called the mission-

aries “dust eyes,” and perhaps this name stems from their knowledge of


the missionaries’ general inability to see their spirits. Note also the reac-

tion to Mary’s invisible pushing on them—laughter instead of fear.

Mary’s actions were taken seriously by the Church. “In April 1635 the

Holy Office appointed an advisory committee of censors to examine the

claims that had been made about this nun’s extraordinary spiritual expe-

riences…this tribunal of six…left it an open question whether these expe-

riences were de Dios; but it was agreed by the whole committee that no

blame could be attached to Mary herself.”161 Her case remained dormant

until it was reopened in 1648, but she suffered no punishment. Thus she

did make it past the Inquisition. This was probably due in great part to

the fact that she had become close friends with King Philip IV of Spain in

1643. They corresponded on a regular basis up until her death.

Mary died on May 24 (Whit Sunday), 1665 and was buried in the

nunnery at Àgreda, where her body remains to this day. To add even more

mystery to her life, it has been recently reported that her body has yet to

decay, and, after over 300 years, her cheeks are still flush.162

Witchcraft takes many different forms. The most common method for

treating a witch-induced illness was to find a good shaman who had a

more powerful spirit. These healing ceremonies took the form of a power

battle between the two shamans with the witch trying to hide from his

opponent. In this sense it was fundamentally a battle of wills. If the good

shaman overpowered the witch, he could turn the illness back upon the

witch. However, in most cases, the illness that had been “shot” into the

victim was destroyed, and the evildoer usually went unnamed. However,

witchcraft was everywhere considered the most heinous crime. Witches,

once discovered, were often swiftly killed, but this was never easily done.163

For example, among the Seneca all “the members of one society at least

were executed as sorcerers when they were found practicing their arts.”164

Throughout all the various forms of witchcraft there is a common

procedure involving quantum mechanics. It has to do with the principle of

non-locality mentioned in the first chapter. Recall the non-locality aspect

of quantum mechanics states in principle, “any two objects that have

ever interacted are forever entangled. The behavior of one instantaneously

influences the other.”165 The way this principle manifests in Indian witch-

craft is that something that has been in contact with the victim is used

in making the evil medicine.166 It can be a fingernail from the victim, a

hair, or even something worn or used by the victim, such as a comb.167

The entanglement that arises between the victim and any object touched

is used by the witch to target and locate the victim. This same technique

is used today by psychic detectives. They will ask for an object that was

in contact with the murder victim, which the psychic holds in order to

“see” (relive) the murder.168 When this method is not used, one finds that

the evil medicine must then come into direct contact with the victim,

such as blowing a powder on them. When a contact-item is utilized the

evil medicine is “shot” into the victim from a distance.169 The preparation

of shot medicines often involves carving a human figure that represents

the victim.170 For this reason Indians are secretive about disposing any

personal body parts including even their spit and feces.

So what do the records reveal to be the most common request of a

witch? Once again, it comes down to practical needs, and the answer is

love medicines (philters). There were love medicines for attracting men to

women, women to men, to keep couples together, to make couples break

up, etc.171 There were also defensive medicines to protect one against love

medicines. The use of love medicine was held in contempt. Among the

Ojibwa it “was considered the ugliest sorcery.”172

Love medicines are found everywhere and their forms vary greatly.

Songs were utilized as a form of love medicines.173 Love songs, in our

sense of the word, were virtually unknown. Recall that Indian songs

“were believed to come from a supernatural source and their singing was

connected with the exercise of supernatural power.”174 Thus a person

singing a love song was seen as someone practicing witchcraft. A Papago

Indian once told Frances Densmore, “If a man gets to singing love songs

we send for a medicine man to make him stop.”175

Here is a typical report from Ohio:

They make use of a Beson [medicine], a love-charm, prepared

by the old people and sold at a good price. This is constantly carried

about by one or the other of the parties and is believed to keep man

or woman faithful. Such a charm is even declared to have had the

effect of making a woman run always and everywhere after her

husband, until weary of life she has destroyed herself, or of simi-

larly affecting a man. For this Beson, also, the Indians have their

antidote.176


The nearby Menomini made use of at least eighteen different love

medicines. One love medicine, called wikipinûkûn (“tied it up”), was made

from “blood drawn from the vulva of an amorous woman. This is added

to a certain variety of root, pulverized, and is given in food. It steals a

man’s mind away so that he will follow the woman who drugs him as a dog

follows its master. Only women used this medicine. It may not be kept with

other medicines and must be used at once after making.”177 This is an

example of a direct application of an evil medicine. Other common direct

applications included blowing, throwing, or rubbing a magical powder on

the victim.178

Two other roots, called “chief” and “chieftainess” were known not only

to the Menomini, but also to the Potawatomi, Sauk, Fox, Kickapoo, and

Plains-Ojibwa.

One or both of these [roots] is mixed fine, vermilion and

pounded mica is [sic] added, and the juice of beaver castor. This is

placed in a little deerskin bag, and a tiny bow and arrow is made,

the arrow being tied up with its point in the mixture.

A figure of the person desired is now drawn on the earth with

a stick, or on a piece of bark with charcoal or a leaden bullet. The

tiny arrow is withdrawn from the medicine, and shot into the heart

of the picture of the intended victim, who is named aloud. The

arrow is allowed to remain there for four days, and is then taken

out, and the user takes it and uses it to apply a small spot of the

medicine paint to each cheek, and to the palm of the right hand.

He endeavors to shake hands with his enamorata and thus get

some of the paint on her. He also takes care to get on the windward

side of her, so that the breeze will blow the magic of his charm on

her.179

Also popular was the thimble love charm, takosawos, worn about the

neck. The thimble contains something that belonged to the victim along

with a special compound, all of which is sealed into the thimble.180 This

Menomini “chief” root (also known to them as the “kingly medicine”) was

used in other ways. It also gives the user “second sight and the ability to

read minds. It brings gifts and fortune, secures credit at stores and luck

in gambling and games.”181

This brings us to the second most popular evil medicine—the power

to win at gambling. The American Indians were involved in many different

forms of gambling and one can be sure that it was always present on the

sideline at any gathering. The only absence of gambling seems to be in

certain subarctic areas.182 The Narraganset of Rhode Island had their own

casino in which they played a dice tossing game. The casino was described

as “made of long poles set in the earth, four square, 16 or 20 feet high, on

which they hang great store of their stringed money [wampum], having

great staking, town against town, and two chosen out of the rest by course

to play the game at this kind of dice in the midst of all their abettors, with

great shouting and solemnity.”183 There were professional gamblers as well.

There were even circuits that the professional gamblers traveled to earn

their living.184 Most gambling took the form of guessing games in which

one side would guess which hand an object was hidden in by the opponent

or how many objects were being held, but dice games were popular as

well.185 Other forms include foot races, horse races, and ball games. Most

gambling games were played with “utter recklessness,”186 lasting days at

a time.187 Gamblers often lost everything they owned including wives, and

even to the point of entering into slavery.188 Captured white women were

also favorite items to gamble off.189 There is even an account of a gambling

session in which a baby was handed over.190 In the most reckless cases a

gambler would stake his life.191

Given the widespread and consistent use of gambling medicines,

gambling is perhaps better seen as a medicine-power activity than as a

sport.192 One often reads of men going on a vision quest or to a sacred

spot specifically to “catch” a gambling power.193 Fasting, undergoing sweat

lodges, and special ceremonies were also undertaken prior to gambling.194

Gambling medicines also came through dreams.195 Given our knowledge

of the Zuni’s development of their “psychic vision,” there is every reason

to believe gamblers also developed this ability. Amulets, songs, plant

mixtures, ritual actions, etc. were widely used to gain luck or confuse

the opponent. In rare cases the gambler would ingest a psychotropic

plant. For example, a Cocopa (Diegueno) ghost doctor named Suwi (aka

Sam Clam) would ingest Jimson weed about six hours prior to gambling.

“During the game the spirit of jimsonweed, in human form, would stand

for him behind his opponent and tell him how many sticks were being

held.”196 However, shamans were not allowed to use their spirit helpers for


gambling if that was not their purpose. Sukmit, an Achomawi shaman,

learned this lesson.

When I started doctoring I tried a trick. I tried bringing my

poison [medicine power] to a hand-game. Now, a doctor is not

supposed to use his poison for gambling...It’s against the rules.

But I thought I was smart, see. I thought to hell with the rules, I

do like white man, see. Well, in the middle of the game I got awful

thirsty, and I get up and go to the spring, and I take a long drink

of water, and I got awful dizzy and sick, I got cramps, I puke...See,

my damaagome [spirit helper] he do that, he mad because I bring

him to hand-game, not supposed to do that.197

Five gambling-power spirits were known to the Quinault shamans

of the Northwest Coast. Each spirit was named according to the bodily

posture assumed by the gambler during the games—sit down, kneels,

collar bone, lie down, and stand up.

The owners of the first two always assumed the pose of the

spirit (sitting or kneeling) when gambling. The last was the type W.

M.’s mother controlled. It came to her in the form of a salmonberry

bird (skwit) in a canoe. She heard its song and its directions to

turn around. Then she saw two marked beaver teeth dice lying in

the canoe of the spirits. She always gambled with these and seldom

lost, and during her lifetime became quite rich from her winnings.

She once staged a gambling bout with the most famous woman

gambler of the Puget Sound. The game was played at Elma and

onlookers bet large sums on the outcome. Each woman started

with 100 tally sticks. A half day passed before the contest was over.

W. M.’s mother would prepare for an important contest such as

this by singing her spirit songs for two or three days.198

Among the Papago we find medicine powers for success at their hidden-

ball guessing game, in which a scarlet bean is hidden in one of four reed

tubes. The best gamblers “usually had a supernatural experience which

gave them the requisite power. One informant, after killing an eagle, had

been visited by the dead bird, who promised him success and told him

always to fling down the tubes with their openings toward the east. He

never lost.”199 Before these reed tubes are thrown down, they are filled

with varying amounts of sand in order to hide the bean. In this case the

openings of the tubes were also to be pointed to the east when being filled.

In addition the eagle spirit gave him specific instructions for making a

power-imbued set of four reed gaming-tubes, which he did and always

won with them.200 The nearby Apache also had a similar game, called the

moccasin game, in which a pebble was hidden in one of seven possible

holes. To locate the pebble a small, club-like stick is used to divine its

location. The holder of the stick makes a number of false motions, and

the final motion is to the divined location. “There is always one less false

motion of the mystic stick than there are possible places for the pebble

to hid: for example, in case there are seven holes in any one of which the

stone may be hid, six preliminary strokes of the mystic stick are always

made.”201 Items such as crystals, songs, specially painted mats to sit on,

and plant mixtures are other forms that gambling medicines took.202 The

Nisenan used a medicine that caused their gambling opponents to become

sleepy.203

In horse and foot races it was common to rub the medicine on the body

of the horse or racer to give them endurance.204 Ball games also called

for great endurance. For example, in mythic origins the Papago received

power from the Cranes to play their “kick-ball” game, in which teams of

runners kick a ball from the start to a mountain some fifteen miles in the

distance and back. Thus the real goal of the game is to endure the entire

30-mile course, which sometimes caused a runner to die.205 “The chal-

lenging visitors always sing for their hosts, and the hosts pay ‘because

they have come so far and have suffered on the way, and because they

have entertained us with beautiful singing.’”206 However, what is most

unusual about this race for our competitive-oriented western minds to

understand is the fact that “sometimes the visitors sing songs extolling

the names of prominent men in the challenged village. As a rule, no man

lightly mentions another man’s name, for fear of using up its magic power;

but to use it in this auspicious connection is to bring the owner luck, and

each man sung for responds with a gift.”207

So popular was gambling that it often entered into other activities.

For example, it was an aspect of Pomo healing when the patient had been

“poisoned” by an evil shaman.


Doctors were summoned, and the money set aside for curing

the patient was placed in a conspicuous central position. A small

sum of money on display indicated that the family was not espe-

cially desirous of having the patient cured...While the doctors were

engaged in attempting a cure, the enemies of the family separately

attempted to accelerate the death of the sick person. This was espe-

cially true of the poisoners who had been hired to bring about the

patient’s death. Hence between the two groups there often arose

lengthy gambling sessions, for it was recognized that the amount

of money available had an important effect on the final outcome...

the curing of a sick person was deemed a contest between the

doctor and the poisoner.208

Most feared were attacks from witches. They were paid to bring harm

or death to their victims. For example, “the Tena are extremely revengeful,

and…the Tena goes on paying shaman after shaman, till he sees the object

of his hatred or jealousy feeling fairly miserable.”209 However, there is a

dangerous catch to harming others. The shaman sending the harm always

runs the risk of having the harm return, especially if a more powerful

shaman is aiding the victim.210 In addition, when the harm comes back,

or is sent back, it usually strikes a relative of the shaman, most often one

of his children.211 Therefore, if you want to know if you are dealing with

an evil shaman, simply ask around as to how things are going with his

family. The other danger is that if discovered, witches were killed. Parsons

provides a typical account from the Pueblo.

The chief (shaman) stands in front of the large altar blade

showing his crystal to the assistants who stand in a half circle

facing him. As they look into the crystal they see through all the

world, whence wind or rain will come, and on what day, what sick-

ness may be imminent, how long the sickness will last, and how

to get rid of it...Now the chief starts to call the witch who is the

cause of the sickness and who is in hiding at the ends of the world.

The chief calls him by singing his song. Every time he sings the

witch’s song the witch draws closer to town. Some of the assistants

together with the war chief and kumpa [assistant to town chief] go

out to search for the witch while the chief sits near the Mothers,

singing to help those who have gone on the witch quest. These

spread out in a circle, as on any hunt, and close in on the witch

who is so afraid of kumpa “he does not even move.” The men seize

him to take to their ceremonial house.

Sometimes the witch is so strong they can not move him, and

they tell the war chief to shoot him with his bow and arrow. He will

shoot him through the body. His power thus broken, they carry

him in. Everybody looks at him and spits on him. They place him

near the meal basket of the altar. The chief tells those present what

bad things the witch has been doing, sending sickness, starving

the animals, etc. The chief will ask the witch if he is going to stop

his bad ways. He will say yes, he will, and that he will keep back the

bad and suffer it himself. The chief takes the blade from the altar

and sticks it into the body of the witch, killing him. Two assistants

carry him out and burn him on a pile of wood, i.e., burn his body,

his spirit (power, nate) leaves the village to die outside...The chief

addresses those present, telling them not to worry or think about it

any more. The sickness is gone. If they go on thinking about it the

sickness will linger. The sooner they forget, the sooner it will go.212

Thinking about the sickness is an observation that causes it to “linger.”

Powerful witches simply send their evil spirits to harm or kill a

victim.213 Witches also directly attacked individuals, often taking on an

altered form.214 The following account of a Malecite witch attack is typical.

This really happened. My father had the power. One autumn

he was out guiding sports (sportsmen). He started to get the camp

supper.

It was dusk. He had to go some distance into the woods to

get water from a brook. He knew that a neighbor on the Tobique

Reserve was his enemy. As he approached the brook, he felt this

enemy was close, but he did not see him. He dipped his pail into

the brook and looked around. In the bushes he saw something

move and pushed back the branches as if to look through them.

Out of the bushes came his enemy, in the shape of a bull. My father

saw a rock with an edge sharp as the blade of a knife. It was his


only chance to save his life. He struck the bull between the eyes.

Blood flowed out, and the bull faded away.

Back home at the Reserve his family saw that their nearest

neighbor was extremely ill. His wife, a medicine woman, was called

to treat the dying man. She made medicine and gave him a drink

of it. The man’s life was saved. Two weeks later her husband came

home from the camp. On the night of his return he asked, “Did you

go to the sick neighbor’s house?”

“Yes.”

He told her about the bull, and added: “You saved my enemy’s

life!” (Only some member of my father’s family could have saved

that life. The man was sick because my father had got the better

of him.)215

Medicines for poisoning a person are also known. They are extremely

difficult to make, although not as technical or powerful as healing medi-

cines. An old man once told a fellow Pomo that he had made poison only

twice in his entire life.

He said it was not easy to make poison. “Don’t let any one tell

you it’s easy to make poison,” he said, “it’s very hard; it takes a long

time.” He told me how he had made poison the second time, the

last time he made it. Somebody had poisoned his daughter. Now he

made up his mind that he would take his revenge. He thought he

knew what man had poisoned her and he made up his mind that

he would make poison. “It takes a long time,” he told me. “It takes

a whole spring. You have to gather a great many plants. You know

they don’t all bloom at once; they come at different times. And it’s

just some part of the plant that’s good for poison; maybe the leaf,

maybe the flower, maybe the seed, and there’s a certain time when

that part of the plant is just right to make poison and you’ve got to

get it just at that time. Then you must collect a lot of bugs, all sorts

of poisonous bugs, scorpions, and stings from bees, snakes, too.

All the animals that have got poison and all the plants that have

got poison. And it’s hard because all this time you must eat very

little and not go near women, especially women that have their

menses. That is so you will be pure, you know!”

Then when he had everything ready he made poison with all

that. You must use it pretty soon while it’s still strong. So he took

the poison and touched that man with it. But you can’t stop then.

A man must help the poison, he told me. He has to keep it up. For

one thing, you can make an arrow of poison oak and a bow of

poison oak, too, and in the morning you go and shoot the arrow

over the man’s house. And if the arrow sticks in the roof, all the

better. Well, that man began to get sick. He got sicker and sicker.

But you must keep up helping the poison. So he makes another

arrow of poison oak and when he goes by the house he kind of slips

it under the house, or in the grass in front of the door where the

fellow is sure to step over it. That man got more and more sick all

the time. He couldn’t leave his bed. Well, he died.

So then the poisoner was through. He went to the river and

washed himself carefully. He rubbed his arms and his chest, all

his body he rubbed over with different herbs so as to be all rid of

the poison.

Well, now he was satisfied. Now he ate.216

This example demonstrates once again how powerful evil medicines

follow the same basic rules as healing medicines. They must be prepared

by following very specific instructions carried out under purified condi-

tions. You must also “feed” the medicine to keep it powerful. Most impor-

tantly, you must keep a consistent observation over time as to the desired

effect of the medicine, “you must keep up helping the poison.”

I would like to end this chapter with a rather unusual account that, I

believe, supports the contention that witchcraft also operates via the rules

of quantum mechanics. Objects that come into contact at this level forever

maintain contact at the quantum level is the basic rule. In witchcraft

something that has been in contact with the victim is brought into contact

with an evil medicine. This establishes a link at the quantum level and

once connected, the evil medicine is worked on by the witch, a conscious-

ness input at the quantum level, to make it stronger. As it turns out, the

most deadly medicine is made from human corpses.217 The methods for

preparing this medicine are disgusting.


Any place where corpse medicine is utilized, there is also a simulta-

neous view being held by all the inhabitants of that area that this medi-

cine works. This enables the possibility of a strong observer effect that

produces a high probability that such will happen. The following incident

occurred in the mid-1800’s among the Tantakwan division of the Tlingit,

who lived in an area where corpse medicine was known. In this case some-

thing from the victim is accidentally brought into contact with the spirit

of a dead person. The healing shaman was a woman named Djun. One of

the chief’s daughters had fallen ill, witchcraft was suspected, and Djun

was called in to heal the child.

Each night Djun went into a trance and sang songs as she

worked over the girl. The fourth night she came out of her trance at

the end of her second song. She said she must have more payment

before she could diagnose what was causing the illness. Then

the father of the girl paid her much more. Again she went into a

trance. She circled the watchers four times, going “sunwise,” i.e.,

counterclockwise. She grabbed at the cause of sickness with her

hands. Finally she began as if pulling a line, the “line of witch-

craft.” People watched to see which one of those present would be

pointed out as guilty [of witchcraft]. In front of each one present

the shaman “pulled on the line” while looking intently into the

person’s face. But this time it was not a person who was guilty

but a wren. They were in Raven House, which is always built with

double doors. The shaman came to the doors. She continued to

sing and signaled that the doors be opened. When this was done

she continued pulling in the “line.” Soon a wren came hopping in.

Then the spirit came out of her and she told the people to catch

the bird. They caught it and, following the shaman’s instructions,

tied up its wings and legs. She told them to put it at the rear post

of the house and to treat it the same as a human witch or wizard

for four or eight days. Accordingly the bird was given no food and

only salt water to drink. To the water was added the slimy, mossy

water from the bilge of canoes.

After four days the shaman told them to let the bird out, tied to

a long string leash. The bird led them back of the village. Everyone

in the village followed. They came to a moss-covered, sloping [tree]

windfall. The bird indicated the log. Under it they found a human

skull and in this the bird had built a nest. The bird had intended

no harm but had used some of the girl’s hair in nest building and

thus had almost killed her.

They carefully carried the skull to the beach, followed by the

bird. Djun told them to take out the nest a bit at a time and drop

in into deep water. They did this, and also dropped the skull in

deep water. They let the bird free. The following morning the girl

was well.218


Chapter 8

Beyond Belief

At the edge of the cornfield a bird will

sing with them in the oneness of their

happiness. So they will sing together in

tune with the universal power, in harmony

with the one Creator of all things. And the

bird’s song and the people’s song, and the

song of life will become one.

— Song of the Long Hair Kachinas, Hopi1

Power Feats

One category of medicine powers remains to be covered—those for

dispelling disbelief. They are usually referred to as “power displays” or

“power contests” in early ethnographic records, more recently as “demon-

strative shamanism,” and as “conjuring,” “feats of legerdemain,” or

“jugglery” in the earliest historical accounts. We call it “magic” or “mira-

cles.” They consist mainly of personal feats of power that are performed

in public for all to see, but medicine societies perform them as well. They

served to dispel doubts and establish authenticity. When in the presence

of white doubters, such feats were often performed with the use of two or

more shamans, and sometimes even by an entire medicine society.

The more spectacular the shaman’s feat, the greater his power is

deemed to be. Every powerful shaman had a special repertoire of such

feats. Consequently, there is a wide range of variation to them such as

walking up the perpendicular side of a cliff, descending a high waterfall in

a canoe, walking on the surface of water, or walking under water and not

drowning.2 For example, there was a Lillooet shaman, who had water as

his guardian spirit. He died around 1853. “He would rub the soles of his

feet with grass, and then would walk over the surface of lakes or rivers.

If he traveled a long distance over the water, his legs would sink up to his

knees.”3

Power feats were often performed at the onset of a ceremony to instill

belief in the shaman’s power. However, they also had public performances

to announce the beginning of a shaman’s career, to establish a shaman’s

credibility, or simply to determine who was the most powerful shaman.

These public displays were particularly powerful given they usually were

performed in the presence of doubters. Many nations held annual displays

of power as well as conducted contests among their shamans. Recall that

a powerful shaman’s reputation was widespread, and these contests were

one form of acquiring such fame. In line with quantum mechanics, the

most powerful displays usually involved a cooperative effort among a

number of shamans or members of a medicine society.

Indian cultures were well aware of the difference between shamanic

power displays and the application of medicine powers. For example, there

were special words in their vocabulary to refer to such performances.

Among the Sioux they were known as ickade (magic) or wakandadi wagaxe

(shamanistic legerdemain).4 Already mentioned are the Arikara who had

an annual gathering devoted to power displays called the Shunáwanùh

(Magical Performance) ceremony. It was popularly known as the Arikara

Medicine Lodge ceremony (discussed below). It began in September and

“lasted for a couple of months or more, with public performances every

evening, and closed with an especially spectacular day and evening.”5

The Klamath performances, called wahla, also occurred annually. They

were conducted around the end of January, and lasted for only five days.6

The Klamath performances were part of the larger “Winter Guardian

Spirit Dance” complex, the major religious ceremony found throughout

the Plateau Area.7 At these winter ceremonials all the local shamans

and medicine societies gathered, where each gave a power performance.

Each performance usually carried a special name. Less frequent were the

contests between shamans to determine who was the most powerful.

What one rarely finds are power displays that are performed for fun,

entertainment, or the merely curious. Fools Crow talked about his reluc-

tance to do power displays for little to no reason.

I can do such things too. In either 1952 or 1956, I can’t remember

which, I was in Flagstaff, Arizona, for an Indian celebration.

Medicine men were present from several tribes, including the

Southwest, and one night a [power] contest was held by them in a


rodeo arena. A large crowd was present to see this, and they could

still tell about its happening.

When the medicine men of the other tribes had finished some

of their tricks, a group of Sioux, led by Jim Iron Cloud, took it upon

themselves to say that one of their medicine men would perform

also, and they volunteered my name. When the announcer made

this known, I was surprised, but felt compelled to do something, so

as not to have the Sioux lose face.

A small tree that had already been used by one of the south-

western medicine men was standing in the middle of the arena.

I walked out to it, and having faith but not knowing what would

happen, I prayed there with my pipe. As soon as I finished the

prayers, little white birds that shone like bright lights swooped

down from the sky from the west and passed over the tree. Then

they came again from the north, then the east, and finally from

the south. Finally they settled down on the tree, covering it entirely

and making it seem like a brilliant Christmas tree, while the crowd

uttered shouts of sheer delight. After a minute or so the birds flew

up and away, and something that looked like fire blazed out from

the tree without burning it to end the performance.

You ask me to explain, especially when I did not know what

would happen, how this could be done. I just prayed to Wakan-

Tanka to bless me and to let me enjoy my powers for the sake of

the moment…I do not ordinarily perform things like that, and I

had nothing to do with starting it that time at Flagstaff. Jim Iron

Cloud and the others volunteered me, and I had to do something.

In fact, I don’t like to do such things because it reduces my healing

power; it saps it, so to speak. And healing is far more important

than having fun…I would rather confine my power to healing. I

have met numerous people who have asked me to do feats of magic

or miracles, but most of the time I have not chosen to do so.8

Recall that the Christian clergy usually viewed medicine powers as

“the work of the devil,” while the general public saw it as mere trickery.

As contact increased more whites came to view Indian medicine men as

“clever magicians.” I imagine this interest was fueled mainly by their

inability to figure out their tricks. The curiosity peaked during the 19th

century mainly due to greater contact and the rise of local newspapers. It

was not unusual to read of the feats of a nearby medicine man in a local

newspaper. As the general public became more aware of Indian power

feats, it eventually attracted the attention of the keenest skeptics.

A Magician’s Quandary

So what happens when a leading professional magician, the ultimate

believer in trickery, makes a special journey to check out the powers of

an American Indian medicine man? The answer is simple—the magician

becomes confused. Such was the case for Professor Harry Kellar, a very

famous, late-19th-century American magician, who is sometimes dubbed

“the father of Houdini.”

It was around 1890, during the distribution of a beef allotment, that

Kellar journeyed to the Rosebud Sioux Reservation in South Dakota to

investigate their magical powers. The Lakota people had gathered from

hundreds of miles for the occasion, and it was there that Kellar was intro-

duced to the famous Chief Red Cloud, whom he saw as “a man of tremen-

dous physical force, and a warrior and counselor who could hold his own

with any mighty men of ancient or modern times.”

One evening, just after sunset and on a bright, full moon night, these

two men were standing together when

a medicine man, that is, a monrose [sic], rather flabby-looking

Indian who had been pointed out as the high priest of the

Ogallallas, strolled by where we were standing, on his way to his

tepee, which was at some distance from the others. It was larger,

and the skins of which it was composed were beautifully painted

in colors with battle scenes and those emblematic outline sketches

which the Indians have for centuries loved to make of their favorite

“medicine”...“What is the red man’s medicine?” was the question

which his white visitor [Kellar] put to Red Cloud. The old man

said nothing; but after repeated solicitations consented that his

Caucasian friend [Kellar] should go to the medicine man’s wigwam

and say that it was the wish of Red Cloud that the mysterious

priest should give this paleface whatever enlightenment he chose

upon the question...


The medicine man heard in silence what the intruder [Kellar]

had to say. He took down a beautifully fashioned bow which hung

from his tent-pole and carefully selected seven finely-finished

arrows, the shafts of which were of the native color of the wood,

the feathers from a gray hawk and the points, not of the steel at

the time so freely used for the purpose, and indeed, manufac-

tured by white men, but of a pale flint as hard as carnelian. The

seeker after knowledge [Kellar] watched the seer as he examined

his weapons, and, when he strode out on the prairie a distance

of thirty or forty feet from his tepee, followed him. There was an

extraordinary brilliancy in the atmosphere that evening, which

left no doubt that, whatever the medicine man chose to do, a prac-

ticed eye [of a magician] could readily follow. Drawing an arrow to

the head on his bowstring, and looking up one moment into the

zenith as if to locate the exact spot he proposed to pierce with his

shaft, he released his powerful bow, and the dart that left its cord

flew straight and swift and glittering for a moment, in the moon-

light, in a course which it seemed would inevitably bring it down

upon the very head of the archer himself. The eye tried in vain to

follow the course of this beautiful messenger from earth to heaven;

there was, one fancied, a smile upon the face of the medicine man

as, with growing attention, we waited to hear the whistle of the

returning arrow. After an interval, which seemed doubly long to

me, he dispatched the second shaft after the first and, it seemed,

in exactly the same airy channel. There was still no indication of

what had become of these arrows and the medicine man was still

silent. The third, fourth, fifth and sixth shafts were drawn from

the quiver and dispatched in succession at the zenith. As the last

sang its farewell to his bowstring the medicine man dropped the

tip of his bow to the prairie and leaned upon it thoughtfully. A

glance at my watch showed that just fifteen minutes had elapsed

since he dispatched the first of his airy missiles, no one of which

had fallen to earth so far as I could tell. Five minutes more and he

returned to his tepee, closed the skin flap and strode away toward

Red Cloud’s house. I was determined to see the thing through, and

after waiting a decent time for him to return, opened the tent flap

and entered the tepee. The bow and the now empty quiver, save

for one shaft, hung where I had first seen it. I waited for hours

intending to give the fellow all the money I had to tell me his secret.

He did not return any more than did his mysterious arrows.9

Despite this direct demonstration of a medicine power, Kellar could

not bring himself to believe in them. He simply concluded, “Magic exists

with deeply interesting complications and weird suggestions among the

Indians of North America.”

The Manipulation of Objects

Making objects and substances appear, disappear, animate, or change

in size is one of the more common forms of power displays. For example,

in the Mackenzie Yukon area one shaman “would hold a file in his hands

until it melted and then return it to its original condition.”10 Since modern

magicians secretly manipulate objects, some of the Indian power displays

appear to duplicate modern performances. Here is an example from the

Arikara.

A shaman presented himself to the crowd and announced to

the assembly that he would be shot in the head by another Indian

but would catch the musket ball in his mouth. The musket was

loaded publicly, but I was not able to satisfy myself as to whether

the ball was really placed in the barrel or if it was composed of

some soft material, nor was I able to ascertain whether the shot

was truly aimed at the shaman’s head, but the Indian certainly

appeared to aim at the open mouth of that worthy and, immedi-

ately afterwards, the shaman showed a musket ball which he held

between his teeth.11

Given the central role of warfare among the Plains cultures, there were

many power demonstrations that displayed invulnerability to bullets.12

Among the Sioux, a new medicine man would be tested for authenticity

by displaying invulnerability to bullets. Major Cicero Newell, who became

the Indian Agent for the Brule Sioux in 1876, witnessed one such a test.

It was attended by a thousand Brule spectators. They sat in a semicircle

before a small hill. Two men were being tested by an old warrior. He shot

at them with a Winchester rifle.


As they passed between the hill and the old warrior who was

holding the gun, the latter raised his rifle and fired a shot at the

leading Indian. I watched very carefully to see if the ball missed its

mark. If the ball passed the Indian, it would surely strike the hill-

side, and I would see the dust which it raised. I was certain that it

did not strike the hillside or the ground. It could not pass over the

hill, it was aimed too low…

Each time, after the Indians had passed him, and he had fired

the shot, the old warrior advanced, picked up something from the

ground, and placed what he had found in a leather pocket he had

on his belt.

The old warrior fired six shots at each Indian, reloading his

gun after the chamber was emptied.

After the shooting was ended…I called the old warrior to me

and asked him to let me see what he had in his pouch. He handed

me five of the rifle balls that he took from the pocket. They all

showed the marks of the groove of the gun and the points were

slightly flattened. I saw paint on some of the balls. The interpreter

informed me that the balls hit the sides of the Indians and fell

harmless to the ground, taking with them some of the paint which

was on the skin of the Indians. I did not doubt the honesty of the

Indians in the public test, but I asked the old warrior how the trick

was done. I shall never forget the look he gave me. It was not a look

of contempt, but one of pity that I could be so ignorant as to believe

that he would practice fraud.13

Another Arikara medicine man, named Paint, had a bullet-proof

medicine.

He would wrap himself completely in a large buffalo robe,

placing a piece of eagle down at the armpit. He would then stand

in the corner of the covered entrance or vestibule of the medicine

lodge. Another member of the band would stand out before the

entrance at a few paces distance with his rifle, powder horn, and

bullets. He would hold out the powder and the bullet for the audi-

ence to examine as he slowly loaded the gun and rammed down

the charge. He would then shoot directly at Paint who would appar-

ently drop, severely wounded while the blood flowed. As usual he

was carried out, surrounded by the band which would perform

certain mysteries over him, after which he would walk out from the

midst of the band quite uninjured.14

A similar feat is reported for the Ponca Bear Dance.

Big-goose once saw a man, who was performing the bear dance,

take a muzzle-loading rifle and charge it in everyone’s presence.

Another man circled the tent singing, and on the fourth round

he was shot by the Indian with the gun; everyone thought he was

killed, but he soon sprang up unhurt. Another performer took a

buffalo robe, had a third man re-load the magic gun, and fired it

at the robe. There was no hole visible, but the bullet was found in

the center of the robe.15

Here is another example from the Owens Valley Paiute, near Mono

Lake in Utah, followed by another one from Alaska.

A.G. described a ‘doctor’ from the south (with) proof against

arrows and bullets. He made a handful of bullets disappear by

rubbing his hand when dancing. E.L. mentioned a doctor proving

his power to doubters by folding his hands over his breast and

being shot with a ‘six shooter’ from a few paces. He handed them

the bullet which passed through only one hand, showing the blood-

less bullet hole...The power of another warrior made him suddenly

stop running in bushes when bullets fell ahead which would have

killed him. He ran on, shot at, but escaping unhurt. His body was

black and blue from bullets which his power had prevented from

penetrating his skin.16

There was a [Ingalik] shaman at Shageluk who demonstrated

his power by remaining uninjured when shot at. Taking his gun

he would start in the corner of the kashim [house] at the left of

the door and reach for an imaginary gun rod. Then in the second

corner he put in imaginary powder, in the third, the wadding, and

in the last, he primed the gun. Then he gave the weapon to a man


who was present, and the shaman told him to aim it at him and

pull the trigger, warning, however, that the man doing the shooting

must have faith or the shaman would be hurt. Then at the signal,

which was the cry of the shaman’s “spirit-animal,” the man shot

the gun which went off with a loud noise. The shaman staggered

backward, people grabbing him to prevent his falling over. As he

staggered, smoke began to emerge from his mouth and he spat up

bullets. Some men did not believe he had been shot, however, so

he challenged anyone to bring his own gun and load it. When one

man did so, the gun was given to the first shooter who had the

necessary faith in the shaman. The same thing happened all over

and the people said nothing more.17

Anthropologist James Dorsey witnessed a similar display by Ponca

shamans Cramped Hand and Bent Horn. Following their shooting display,

Bent Horn danced around, showing to each of us an object

which appeared to be a stone as large as a man’s fist, and too

large to be forced into the mouth of the average man. Cramped

Hand stood about 10 or 15 feet away and threw this stone toward

Bent Horn, hitting the latter in the mouth and disappearing. Bent

Horn fell and appeared in great pain, groaning and foaming at the

mouth. When the basin was put down before him, there fell into it,

not one large stone, but at least four small ones. We were told that

the chief, Antoine, had to give a horse for the privilege of shooting

at the shaman.18

Anthropologist Robert Lowie recorded a first-hand account given to

him by Panayús.

Panayús told me of a Comanche boy raised among the Ute who

developed into a great shaman with a reputation that bullets could

not harm him. He received his powers from an old Ouray Ute chief

who had this gift of invulnerability. One spring the people were

camping by a mesa near the site of Ignacio. The Comanche shaman

would doctor sick people, but there was always the discharge of

guns accompanying the treatment since the medicine man had

other men shoot at him. Panayús had always been skeptical of the

man’s power. On this occasion the medicine man rose early and

said to my informant, “Friend, you have never believed me. When

the sun shall rise, I will give you an exhibition, then you’ll believe.”

When the sun was nearly up Panayús’s son was still asleep. The

Comanche said, “Wake up the boy and bid him stand in the door.

Put him behind the door, standing toward the sun.” Panayús was

a policeman and had a revolver with all its chambers loaded. The

shaman asked for it, whistled a tune, snapped the cock, walked

toward the boy and then round the fireplace, then cocked the gun

and shot at the boy. The boy was scared but not hurt; in the door

no bullet hole was to be seen. “Do you believe me now? I’ll show

you again.” He asked for a blanket and let the boy lead him. The

informant’s mother was cooking while his father was outside and

also saw it. The shaman covered himself with the blanket and

stretched it out, led by the boy. Panayús shot him between the

shoulders. There was a little ripple on the blanket but no hole. He

shot again with the same result. Close by the door, only a few feet

away, he shot again: there were marks on the blanket but no hole.

Then Panayús believed in the shaman’s power.19

Another variation of shooting comes from the Canadian Santee.

Joseph Goodwill told of a magical performance by a Medicine

Dance member. Pointing to the stone in the center of the lodge, he

boasted that he would magically shoot a bear claw through it. He

charged toward the stone as if it were the candidate in the shooting

rite, extended his medicine bag, and stamped his foot. Spectators

saw a spurt of dust from behind the stone and retrieved the bear

claw. Then they examined the stone and found a small opening

from which blood was slowly oozing.20

The Apache power displays used knives instead of guns, and they

would cut “great gashes” in themselves without causing blood to flow.21

Power displays also occur during the course of a ceremony. Recall

(from Chapter 6) George Nelson seeing the bindings of a shaman during

a shaking tent ceremony fly out of the lodge into the lap of the fellow who


had bound the shaman.22 He also reported their shamans were often set

atop sharp stakes in the tent resulting in no injury.23

As mentioned, Klamath shamans held annual power performances

in which various things, fish, seeds, frogs, and blood are made to

appear in a basket…Throughout the affair the shaman remains on

his bed; no one goes near the basket except the man who inspects

it each time...

The pond-lily seed trick is similar…The shaman has an old

woman half-fill a basket with water and cover it with a smaller one.

He lies well back toward the wall during the performance, rising

only to smoke. His speaker [assistant] lights the pipe but is warned

not to inhale the smoke. The shaman first sings the frog’s child’s

song. One man after another talks to the various spirits that fill

the house. The shaman tells the old woman to hold a light over

the basket; nothing is seen. Two (?) songs of the frog are next sung

and when she looks again the basket is filled with pond-lily seeds.

All the old men look at it. When he sings the frog’s final song, she

finds the seeds gone and a tiny frog in their place. No one touches

the basket.24

Among the Monachi (Western Mono) from central California, “there

were performances by shamans (puhake) in which their abilities were

displayed...At the dance place at Soyakanim a shaman caused a coyote to

come down from the sky during a dance. He also caused it to disappear

again into the sky.”25 The nearby Chumash also had a shaman who would

“suspend one of the [medicine] stones from the handle of an ordinary

open-work basket, then fill it with water, and yet not a drop escaped.“26

The Apache’s special name for shamans who perform power displays

is “wonder workers.” On the fourth and final night of their Holiness Rite

these “wonder workers,” some of whom may be singers and dancers, give

a special performance.

The wonder workers…do not speak but are singing softly to

themselves. They do all sorts of things before the people to show

their great power. They make things appear and disappear. Each

shows what he can do.

In the old-time Holiness Rite many wonderful things used to

be done. My father saw this; it happened in his time. The wonder

worker used to throw an eagle feather into the fire with everyone

watching, and run around and have it in his hand again at the

other side...

The singers, too, used to do great things this last night. The

one from whom J. learned the Holiness Rite used to be able to

make corn grow over night. But now these things are not often

done. The reason is that in order to have the singer and dancers

do things like that, everyone would have to believe, everyone would

have to be holy. The men who dance as wonder workers would have

to wash themselves and be clean and purified. They would have to

keep away from women before the ceremony. But now they are just

young fellows who don’t care. They do anything.

Yet there is one man here, M., who comes in with a kernel of

corn. He shows it to everyone. He asks them, “Is it wet or dry?”

“Dry,” they say. Then he plants it. In the morning there is a whole

corn plant there with full-grown corn on. It grows in one night. This

corn he distributes, giving a kernel to all who want it. The kernels

are saved and planted in the field, together with a small feather

from the back of the turkey, by those who want good crops.27

The course of this ceremony follows the pattern seen in most public

power displays. First comes four days of purification rituals to get the

consciousness of all the participants to a focused singularity and in the

heart mode. Again the necessity of belief plays a crucial role in the obser-

vation being made. It is clear they understand this necessity. Their actions

were designed to make everyone there “holy,” and they were quite effective

in doing so. So much so that power displays were not limited to powerful

shamans, albeit they always had the most powerful displays. The nearby

Navajo also grow a single grain of corn into a full corn stalk within a day.

They begin at sunrise and the corn grows only while their chants are in

progress. By noon it is tasseled out. By sunset it has ripe ears of corn on

it.28

The Assiniboin power displays were performed during their Wagiksuyabi

ceremony. In one instance a shaman


was dressed in a buffalo robe, and held two arrows in his hands.

He sang several songs, then he announced that he could not do

much, nevertheless he did not like the other shamans to laugh at

him for not doing anything. He asked two men to step up to him.

Singing, he told these men to push the arrows through his body

from side to side. They followed his directions until the arrows

crossed. He showed them to the spectators, then he sang again,

and the men pulled out the arrows. The blood came spurting out of

his body. He simply rubbed fire over the wound and effaced every

trace of it.29

One also finds accounts of objects being given special power. There

was a Bella Coola shaman who used a medicine stick, wound spirally with

bands of cedar bark, to remove diseases. He also used this stick in his

power displays. During his performance he would suspend it horizontally

from the roof of a house.

He carried one [medicine stick] similarly embellished, but

smaller, about two and a half feet long and three inches in diam-

eter, having at one end a tuft of bark. During his dance, in which

he sang...he went under the suspended stick, held the small one in

his hand, blew on one end of it, then threw it up so that it struck

the large hanging one...Again he danced and, when underneath

where the two sticks were suspended, he jumped up, and caught

the lower end of the smaller [stick] with his hands. This supported

his weight, and he swung back and forth on it until he volun-

tarily released his grip and dropped. When next he danced at the

same spot he held out one hand with palm uppermost beneath

the smaller stick; the other [hand] was held in front of his mouth

pointing towards the suspended one. He blew on the latter as if

blowing dust from his hand to the point of contact of the two sticks,

and the smaller dropped into his outstretched hand.30

Another Bella Coola shaman would fill a large wooden box with water

and cause it to disappear.31

Making objects appear or disappear was a common power display.32

Another form of object manipulation was to make an object, such as a

stick, stand of its own accord.33 Less frequent was the manipulation of

something alive. For example, the Yokut rattlesnake shamans would

perform a rattlesnake ceremony to display their power as well as insure

against future snakebites.

Proceeding to a rattlesnake den they stamped and whistled

before it, the head shaman directly facing the hole, the others on

the side to cut off the return of such snakes as might falter at the

impending ordeal.

Soon, it is said, the snakes would emerge, usually preceded,

it was believed, by a large lizard, and drawn on by the leading

shaman they crawled straight to his feet, where they buried them-

selves in a winnowing basket filled with down.34

In another Yokut account the shaman uses a whistle to lure out the

rattlesnakes.35

Finally, one of the more spectacular displays of power was by a

Chugach shaman from the Arctic named Shinka who could make the

earth shake. He would sing, then fall on his back, and then get up to see

how close he was coming to “the pole of the earth.” Once he arrived, after

falling several times, he would grab the “pole” and shake it. “Then there

came a noise, and the earth would shake. A white man named King, who

was skeptical when he witnessed the performance, did not believe that

the shaking was a real earthquake. Therefore he sent someone to all the

houses in the village, and everywhere the earthquake had been noticed.”36

The Wabenos

One of the more common power displays is immunity to heat in some

form. So extensive are these performances throughout North America

some writers have concluded Indians were extensively given to fire

worship.37 Recall (from Chapter 2) Father Pijart’s 1637 observation of a

medicine man putting a glowing-red-hot rock, the size of a goose egg, into

his mouth and carry it about. Father Jacques Marquette also noted, circa

1670, the use of fire among the Ottawa in a healing ceremony.


The critical illness of a sick Young man caused the jugglers

[shamans] to say that the Devil [shaman’s spirit] must be involved

by the observance of some altogether extraordinary superstitions.

The [Indian] Christians did not make any invocation to him; there

were only the juggler and the sick man, who was made to pass over

some large fires that had been lighted in all the Cabins. They said

he did not feel the heat, although his body had been smeared with

oil for five or six days.38

By the early 1700’s several reports of Indian fire handling had been

published.39 Such reports continue through time to this day. For example,

members of the Iroquois Fan Strikers Society (Hadinegwais) “demon-

strated these powers and some would go to the fire and remove red hot

stones and juggle them. A man lacking this kind of power could not do

this.”40

Passaconaway, the Grand Sagamore (head chief) of the Pennacook,

who resided in the region of Concord, New Hampshire, along the Merrimac

River in the early 1600’s, rose to political power due mainly to his medi-

cine powers.

He had formerly been, for a long term of years, one of the most

noted Powahs, or Conjurors ever heard of among the Indians of New

England...(He had) power to make water burn, and trees dance; to

metamorphose himself into flame; and to raise, in winter, a green

leaf from the ashes of a dry one, and a living serpent from the skin

of one which was dead. Few modern practitioners, we presume,

have surpassed the old Sagamore in the arts of legerdemain.41

At the end of the 18th century there appeared a new class of shamans,

mainly among the Menomini and Ojibwa—the previously mentioned

wabeno. Some accounts put an earlier date on the appearance of these

specialized shamans.42 Wabeno literally means “red dawn sky” or “daylight

comes,” and stems from waban, which refers to the particular color of the

sky just before dawn.43 They often referred to themselves as “men of the

dawn” or “eastern men” because they walk clockwise. Their name derives

in part from the fact that their ceremonies continued throughout the night

until dawn. The tutelary spirit of the wabebo is the Sun or Morning Star.

Although very little was recorded of their activities, the Ojibwa wabeno

was primarily a healer, and a maker of love and hunting medicines.44

Even in more recent times the Ojibwa had a medicine that enabled

them to have fire come out of their mouth.45 Among the Montagnais the

wabinu usually hails from a specific grade of their Medicine Lodge society

(Midewiwin).46 Here they were known as “seeing men” due to their power

of divining the future, another common ability of the wabeno. They were

generally members of the higher levels of the Midewiwin, although some

reports have them practicing on their own.47 So convincing were their

powers that during the early part of the 1800’s the word wabeno became

commonly used by the general public for Indian shamans in this area of

North America.

These shamans were best known for their fire-handling feats during

healing ceremonies. Most often they would handle hot coals in their

hands, and then rub their warmed hands over the patient.48 They “showed

their powers by juggling and fire displays, by taking coals and red hot

stones in their hands or mouth. Some plunged their hands into boiling

grease or water, or tore off their burned flesh with their teeth while singing

and dancing. Others breathed fire through reeds in their mouth.”49 John

Tanner, a thirty-year captive among the Ojibwas, saw them not only

handling hot coals and stones, but also sticking gun powder to their

palms and “then by rubbing them with coals or red hot stone, they make

the powder burn.”50

Hoffman, who has written the most about the wabeno, reports that at

night these shamans could be “seen flying rapidly along in the shape of

a ball of fire, or of a pair of fiery sparks, like the eyes of some monstrous

beast.”51 Like their Ojibwa counterparts, the Menomini shamans often

took the forms of animals such as fox, bear, owl, bat, etc. The fox form was

known by the flame of fire that came out of its mouth every time it barked.

Hoffman gives the following example of a fire power display.

The following performance is said to have occurred at White

Earth, Minnesota, in the presence of a large gathering of Indians

and mixed bloods. Two small wigwams were erected, about fifty

paces from each other, and after the wabeno had crawled into

one of them his disparagers built around each of the structures a

continuous heap of brush and firewood, which was then kindled.


When the blaze was at its height all became hushed for a moment.

Presently the wabeno called to the crowd that he had transferred

himself to the other wigwam, and immediately, to their profound

astonishment, crawled forth therefrom unharmed.52

From the Ojibwa near Sarnia, Ontario, we have a brief report of a

wabeno fire medicine. “After this medicine is finished, the man takes it

and blows it into his hands and feet. Then he goes out at night and walks

around. He puts medicine around his belly. Then he walks around and

fire comes out of his mouth. No one is powerful enough to confront such

a man.”53

This ability to handle fire in one form or another is widespread

throughout North America, and was not limited to the wabenos. Last

century Lakota shaman, Pete Catches, Sr., received fire-handling power

through a vision.

Many times throughout my life I ask the Great Spirit to do

something that is almost impossible, but being humble, being

lowly, feeling unworthy, He grants me what I ask of Him. This is

what makes me a medicine man.

So, I was standing there [on my vision quest] like that, raising

the Pipe up there, and singing a sacred song. And when the Pipe

was coming down I noticed a man, standing, facing the other way. In

my vision, on the left side of the Pipe at a distance perhaps twenty,

twenty-five yards out there, this man turned right and crossed

over the Pipe. And when he did, there was a huge fire burning

where he was going. He stopped short of the fire, knelt down and

took some sticks aside. He reached underneath and raked forth

some hot coals. Then he cupped his hands, took a double heaping

handful of hot coals, and he started to get up. He turned the other

way, went very slowly around the fire, and everything, the scene

that I was seeing disappeared. This was the vision.54

However, it was not until a year later that Catches “performed” his

vision. A young man had brought his father to be healed. After the sacred

pipe presentation, Catches told one of his assistants to prepare some cedar

and sweet grass. Then,

I got up and I walked as in the vision that I had seen. I walked

slowly to that fire, to that stove. It was a wood kitchen stove with

the fire box door in front. I opened it. There was a large amount of

hot coals there. I reached in there and raked forth hot coals like

what I had seen in the vision, and took two heaping handfuls.

Then I went slowly, turned around, and slowly went around and

came back to where I was sitting. I nodded to my helper. He rushed

forth and put the cedar and the crumpled sweet grass on to the hot

coals. This is how I smudged that sick old man.55

Most revealing are his own reflections on this incident.

So this is why you talk to the Great Spirit, when you pray to

the Great Spirit, every word that you say must be meaningful.

Sacred dreams are that way. If you omit a portion of it, then it is

like nothing. When I had my sacred vision of getting two handfuls

of hot coals in my hand, I knew that was dangerous. I knew that

could cause me to lose my hands. I knew there could be hurt and

pain. I knew this. Common sense told me that I could be crippled

for life. But the belief, the acceptance of a vision, the belief that

goes into it, if a person has that, it will be fulfilled.56

The key understanding here is what Pete Catches refers to as “mean-

ingful.” His prayer becomes meaningful when he sincerely prays from

his heart, when he fully believes in the power, when he is focused to the

point of leaving out no details. Here again is a single-minded observation

coupled with strong intent over time. It is with a fully focused conscious-

ness that the observer effect is activated when accompanied by a strong

belief. That is, a quantum wave is collapsed via Catches’s conviction that

brings about an alteration to the usual flow of reality, i.e. the fire does not

burn him.

There are many other accounts of fire medicine powers. It was not

too many years ago that fire walking became a popular New Age craze in

California and elsewhere. However, walking on hot coals was a widespread

prehistoric feat.57 Some California shamans also put hot coals into their

mouth.58 Fire dancing was particularly popular among the Northwest

Coast cultures, many of which had a Fire Dance ceremony. Shamans


commonly walked through fire or over hot coals to display their power.59

Handling hot objects was also widespread.60 For example, the powerful

Tlingit shaman, Tekic, could “take a big burning log, reportedly 2 or 3

feet in diameter, from the fire, toss it up in the air and catch it, without

burning his hands.”61

The Puget Sound area had many white settlers, some of whom actually

observed the Kwantlen (Halkomelem division of the Cowichan) Fire Dance

ceremony during the 19th century.

Eye-witnesses of them, both native and white, are unanimous

in declaring that these fire-shamans could handle fire and burning

objects and dance upon scorching hot stones without apparently

burning or otherwise harming themselves. The late Bishop Durieu,

who spent over forty years among the Indians of this district, once

told me himself, in a conversation on this subject, that he had seen

a shaman handle burning brands without apparent hurt to his

hands. He said he had been preaching to the tribe of the power of

the Christian’s God, and had observed an Indian squatting apart

by himself in a far corner of the house. When he had finished his

discourse this man came forward, and made some remarks to the

effect that it was all very well to talk, but the proof of the pudding

was in the eating. Could the white medicine-man give them an

example of his “power”? And he thereupon challenged the Bishop

to a contest with himself. Said the Bishop: “He seized from the

midst of the fire, in his naked hand, a fiery burning brand, and

held it there for some time, and then offered it to me. I declined,

and was straightway scoffed at by him and his friends; but eventu-

ally I turned the tables upon him by declaring that his power came

from the Wicked One, with whom I could have no dealings, and not

from the true God.”62

Among the Tanaina of southern Alaska

various accounts are found of shamans walking through fire,

picking up hot rocks, and swallowing burning knives. The latter

are said to feel like icicles. There was the case of a shaman who

without any clothes sat down on some bath-stones which were

heating in the middle of a fire. It did not bother him for the rocks

were cold…One shaman made a fire by putting shavings in his

armpits and dancing around counterclockwise. He burned tobacco

in the same way.63

There is another account of a famous Canadian Santee fire-walker

who made money off of doubting whites. This shaman

first boasted that he could perform the feat and that he would

stage it for such and such a day. A crowd gathered. The magician

appeared and built a large fire, and when it had burned down he

raked the coals into a great rectangle. The man then bet some

whites who were in the crowd that he could walk through the

coals barefoot. He not only did this, but then walked back over the

flaming surface a second time, and won a large sum of money.64

A Nunivak (West Alaska) shaman had himself burned. “He ‘died,’ that

is, went into a trance or became unconscious in the kazigi [ceremonial

house]. He was taken out and shavings heaped all around and over him.

While he was being burnt, his voice could be heard like that of a walrus.

After the people had returned to the men’s house, the shaman tapped on

the skylight, and came in, whole again.”65

From the Southwest Area there is an account of the Hopi Yayatü

society digging a hole into the ground, and then building a fire in it. When

the fire was reduced to embers they bound a shaman and put him into the

hole. They then covered him with embers followed by an airtight layer of

sandy clay. He escaped, but had minor burns on his shoulders and hip.66

Eating fire and walking on hot coals has been reported for the nearby

Pueblo as well as the Papago.67 During the Navajo, nine-day Mountain

Chant healing ceremony there is a fire dance on the final night, which

is the climax performance. Dancers paint their bodies white and dance

about a large fire while holding burning, shredded-bark torches, which

they apply to the back of the dancer in front of them.68

In the Plains Area the Santee had a Fire Walkers’ Dance in which they

extinguished the fire. They would make a pile of firewood thirty feet in

length, and set it ablaze.


They waited until the wood was kindled into a blazing fire.

Then they fell to singing and drumming, and the fire-walkers

started across the fire, three-abreast. The head man merely looked

on. They went the entire length of the fire, then they retraced their

steps. Sometimes they succeeded in putting out the fire on the

second trip; it never took more than four trips. After the last walk

neither ashes nor any other trace of the fire remained visible.69

In a like manner, the Hidatsa also had a “Hot Dance” in which they

danced on live coals.70 The performance by the “crow imitators” of the

powerful Pawnee Iruska medicine society was equally spectacular. “They

built a fire and put a large stone on it. When it was red hot they put it

on the ground and each man stood on the stone.”71 An Arikara “Moon

medicine-man” would crawl into a small lodge covered in dry rushes, and

then have it set afire. “When the little lodge was burned to the ground, no

trace of the man was to be seen; but some of the people, going to the river,

would see him emerging from the water, beating his drum, and staggering

as if exhausted.”72 The Blackfoot fire display involved dancing in 18 inches

of boiling hot water in a large copper kettle for around five minutes.73

As mentioned above by Hoffman, some fire-handling shamans could

change their shape into a ball of fire and fly through the air. This was also

reported for the Inuit of Alaska.74 Spirits are also associated with balls of

fire. For example, among the Navajo “a ball or spot of fire, varying in size

from an inch in diameter to ‘the size of an automobile,’…is taken as an

indication of the presence of a ghost.”75

Other forms of fire displays include the ability to light a pipe without

the use of a match or other such aid. Wovoka, the prophet who led the 1890

Ghost Dance movement, had this power.76 In addition to walking through

fires, Micmac shamans could “make trees appear all on fire without being

consumed.”77 Licking the blade of a red-hot knife, swallowing a red-hot

iron, and shooting fire from your fingers have also been reported.78

Perhaps the most common and widespread fire display was simply the

dipping of hands and arms into boiling hot water, especially among the

Plains cultures.79 Early on, the consensus among whites was the “trick”

was in the application of a plant protection to one’s skin.80 This hypo-

thetical explanation eventually became widely adopted by anthropologists

as well. One anthropologist even took it to the next level by concluding,

“these spectacular fire rituals could only have been developed with the aid

of such a medicine [plant substance].”81 Although several plants have been

identified in this regard, no anthropologists has ever dared to test out its

effectiveness by rubbing it on one’s arm and dipping it in boiling water. It’s

simply an imaginary rationalization. Besides, Indians understand that it

is the spirit of the plant that provides such protection.

I would like to end this section with a rather detailed, 19th century

account of fire-starting medicine from southern British Columbia. A

Lillooet medicine man, named Tohma, had such an ability. It was winter

and a search party had gone out to find a missing trapper, but they were

stopped by a blizzard. They tried in vain to set an old stump aflame, and

in their failure they called upon Tohma.

Toh-MA didn’t say anything for awhile. “Alright,” he finally

replied, “you people keep away from the stump; don’t go near it!

Don’t say anything or make any noise! Do as I tell you!” The leader

told the people to do as Toh-MA requested.

Toh-MA started to perform. He danced around and then kicked

the stump. He danced around a few more times to frighten the

stump. The second time that he danced around the stump, the

storm stopped; there was no more snow or wind in the immediate

area. Toh-MA kicked the stump again and smoke came out of it. As

he danced around it, singing, the fourth time, the stump exploded

into fire. The people felt the explosion when he kicked the stump.

He continued to dance around it a few more times…The stump

kept burning all night.82

Swallowing Powers

One of the more curious forms of power displays is the consumption

of large amounts of water, food, oil, etc., and the swallowing of objects.

This consumption form of power display is found throughout the Puget

Sound cultures, but also appears in other areas as well. The Twana call

this power kwalxqo, while the Skokomish call it qwaxq. The power comes

from a specific guardian spirit.83 Around 1870 there was an old Twana

medicine man, named Sdayaltxw, who received this power “from an old

stump full of water on the top of a hill.”84 Subsequently, they held a special


ceremony in which a medicine man named Doctor Bob helped bring out

this power in Sdayaltxw.

And then he [Sdayaltxw] stopped [dancing and singing] and

said to his daughter, “You get ready for me. Get things ready now.”

So his daughter got a bucket of water and sdayeltxw took it and

drank it down. She got another bucket and he drank that. And

another and another. And when he had drunk the fourth bucket

his son Bob said, “Don’t give him any more! He’ll do a bad thing if

you give him any more.” So they stopped at the fourth bucket. And

where was that water? I was there and I saw that old man drink

those four buckets of water and his stomach didn’t stick out or

anything. That water went to his power, to that old kwalxqo stump!

Now when sdayeltxw got on his fifth bucket he would start to

piss. The water would run right out of him, and he would fill up

the bucket again with the water he pissed out, and drink it again

and keep going that way. Over and over again he would drink

that bucket down, that’s the way he showed his power. But they

wouldn’t give him more than four buckets this time. So he just got

up and sang and danced.85

Sluskin, a Yakima shaman, received his power from Lake Kachess

that enabled him to eat or drink large amounts. Such acts were actually

his method of feeding his power, the lake. On one occasion while helping

friends put up hay he was seen to drink five buckets full of water.86

The Skokomish actually held eating contests, mostly with non-Twana

peoples to the south such as the Satsop and southwestern Puget Sound

groups.

The visiting community on its journey to the host community

might test the consumption powers of its members by attempting

to drink up small streams or ponds on the way. These feats were

made possible by the spirit powers of certain individuals but were

performed by the community personnel in unison...Certain indi-

viduals, village eating champions with specially potent guardian

spirits, might perform prodigies such as draining an entire small

canoe full of boiled salmon eggs without removing his mouth from

the vessel. In theory, the extra quantity eaten on this occasion was

absorbed by the eater’s qwaxq power.87

Following the contest, members of the host village would journey to the

challenging village within several weeks in order to outdo their former

guests’ performance.

A Quinault shaman got this power from a whale guardian spirit (or

“western spirit”). “In potlatches he used to sing his paddling, harpooning,

and fair wind [power] songs. He used to drink gallons of whale oil at a

single draught, then spew it on the fire, making the flames roar up to the

smokehole.”88 He also speared seventy-seven whales during his lifetime.

From the Kwantlen we also hear of “a noted old shaman among them who

is reported by the natives and white settlers to have been able to do many

strange and mysterious things, such as dancing on hot stones, handling

live coals, and drinking or otherwise mysteriously disposing of enormous

quantities of liquids, such as oils or water.”89

Drinking power displays like these extended southward at least to

northern California where Klamath “shamans also have a trick of drinking

huge quantities of water, four or five gallons, without stopping.”90

Other forms of consumption powers are found among the Zuni

Newekwe (Gluttons), members of their Galaxy Fraternity.

They are the medicine-men par excellence of the tribe, whose

special province is the cure of all diseases of the stomach—the

elimination of poisons from the systems of the victims of sorcery or

imprudence...I have seen one of them gather about him his melons,

green and ripe, raw peppers, bits of stick and refuse, unmention-

able water [urine], live puppies—or dead, no matter—peaches,

stones and all, in fact everything soft enough or small enough to

be forced down his gullet, including wood-ashes and pebbles, and,

with the greatest apparent gusto, consume them all at a single

sitting.91

Much more widespread were swallowing displays—something being

stuck down the throat and removed, such as long sticks, knives, etc. All

the Klamath shamans who performed at their five-day wahla ceremonies,


well, if they could not extinguish as least five flaming bundles of resinous

sticks, right in a row with their mouth, and also swallow at least twenty

obsidian arrowheads tied at intervals on a cord and bring them back up,

they were not recognized as a shaman.92 Their more powerful shamans

can swallow upwards of twenty splints of wood at a time and wait until the

next night to bring them back.

Stick swallowing was a prevalent form of power recognition among the

different Pueblo medicine societies including the Hopi and Zuni. Twenty-

inch long, either juniper or spruce sticks, about three-quarters inch wide

and slightly curved, were used. Sometimes upwards of four sticks are

inserted into the mouth at a time.93 Cushing witnessed it among the Zuni

and considered it a dangerous feat, noting it could result in lifelong inju-

ries or even death.94

Bear shamans are particularly adept at displaying power feats. During

the Ponca Bear Dance the shamans would set up a cedar tree in the

center of their ceremonial lodge.

During the dance one of the participators would go up and

break off a branch and scrape off the bark. Then he would circle

the lodge four times, show it to the members, and announce that

he would run it down his throat. He would then thrust it in until

the tip barely showed. After a moment he would pull it out, and the

blood would gush forth. One shaman had the power of thrusting

the cedar through his flesh into his abdomen. After he pulled it out

he merely rubbed the wound and it was healed. Still another would

swallow a pipe, cause it to pass through his body, and then bring

it out and lick it.95

Wasunopa, a Yankton bear shaman, had a similar stick-swallowing

medicine. He would use a twenty-inch stick that had a bear claw carved

on one end and a white eagle plume on the other end. He would swallow

the entire stick and

then go through some antics as though he were in mortal agony;

and then he would draw forth the entire stick from his anus; and

the feather would be as pure and white as before. I did not see

it actually come from his body, of course, because of his breech

cloth; but from underneath the cloth, he would bring it out, and

the stick and feather would be as clean and pure as ever. That, I

saw several times; and if it was a trick it was a remarkable one for

I could swear he swallowed it; and then I saw him reach his bare

hand down and bring out the stick from behind. He was always

alone; he had nobody to help him.96

The Canadian Dakota shamans would swallow knives. “Old man

Pashee once heard a medicine-man tell some people he could swallow a

knife. They said they did not believe it. He thrust a large one, about the

size of a butcher’s knife, blade first, down his throat. The people stood

around watching, and a little later they saw him pull it out of his anus.”97

Knife swallowing feats extend northward to the Satudene shamans of

Great Bear Lake in the Northwest Territories.98

A variation on this swallowing theme was reported in 1708 for the

Micmacs of Eastern Canada.

They chew a piece of flintstone in their mouths, and grind it up

like Gravel; they spit it out into their hands, to show it to you, and

afterwards they swallow it to the last grain…When the flintstone,

ground to gravel, is in their stomachs, they take a little stick about

a foot long and very smooth; they smoke, and offer it the fumes of

the Tobacco, mumbling some words from the Black Book; then they

thrust it down their throats, their faces become completely livid

and it seems as though they were about to choke; they rummage,

so to speak, with the stick, and, after a few grimaces, they draw it

out with the flintstone whole at the end of it.99

Micmac shamans were also known to consume large quanities of

food. One interesting incident occurred when Charlie Joe, a Micmac medi-

cine man, attended an Iroquois feast. “Charlie ate all they had and then

they began to kill all the horses, pigs, and dogs that they had. He ate all

those up, much to the mortification of his hosts. After he left, an Iroquois,

wandering in the woods, found all the meat lying in a pile. Naturally, they

were very angry.”100 This account is interesting in that it suggests that at

least in this case the consumption of large amounts of food was really a

form of teleportation.


The wabenos also displayed swallowing powers in addition to fire-

handling powers. Among the Plains Cree the wábanowin “shamans would

swallow a red-painted or notched stick a couple of feet long; again an empty

revolver would be gulped down and then brought up loaded” in addition to

plunging “their hands into kettles of boiling water and removing objects

without injury to themselves.”101

The Pawnee, often noted for their cruelty, were no less so in their

shamanic power displays.

At those entertainments, usually given in the open air, they

(shamans) appeared entirely divested of garments except the indis-

pensable breech-cloth, and with no elaborate paraphernalia, thus

reducing the possibility of delusion to a minimum. They swallowed

arrows head downward till the point had apparently reached the

region of the stomach, and in this condition, with the feather end

protruding from the mouth, turned somersaults and executed

various acrobatic movements involving violent contortions of the

body. Instead of arrows, long-bladed knives or pieces of nicely

dressed board about two feet long and two inches wide were used

at the pleasure of the performer. Sometimes they appeared to drive

these objects, particularly the boards, down the throat by beating

heavily upon the exposed end with one hand, blood meanwhile

flowing copiously from the mouth…There were also more difficult

feats, as apparently cutting their own throats; shooting each other

with arrows, the arrow still sticking from the body of the appar-

ently dead performer; and taking out and replacing the vitals of

such seemingly dead persons. The following will answer as an

example of their bolder feats:

Two performers, during a pause in one of the exhibitions, led

from a neighboring lodge a small boy stripped naked. After laying

him upon his back on the ground, one of them held the boy’s

hands extended above his head; the other seated himself astride

the child’s body, seemed to cut into his chest, to insert two fingers

and draw out one lobe of the liver, from which a part was cut and

eaten by the two men. The mutilated liver was then crowded back,

the opening closed, and the boy borne away. Soon after he was

about again as usual.102

As with other forms of medicine powers, swallowing powers also elic-

ited betting with the whites. A Mikasuki Seminole “once saw a relative of

his whom he believes to possess curing and witchcraft powers, chew up a

beer bottle after challenging the white man who had given him the beer, ‘I

bet you can’t do whatever I do.’”103

Powerful shamans would have multiple power displays. Tlingit

shamans’ “power demonstrations involved the lifelike movements of seem-

ingly inanimate objects, not only the doctor’s own hair, but his cane, a doll,

or the garments of a rival. An arrow might penetrate a rock and be impos-

sible to pull out, or a pole be held fast in the sand by the shaman’s power.

He might make a bag too heavy to lift, or his own wooden mask might defy

gravity.”104 For example, there was a Tantakwan (Tlingit) shaman named

Kushkan who lived on Cat Island (Tekwedih clan/Thunderbird House). He

had many different spirits, and consequently, various power display abili-

ties. During one of his power displays the first spirit to enter into him was

a Tsimshian spirit.

Kushkan told his helpers to give him a shaket (dance head-

dress), but he spoke this in Tsimshian and the helpers did not

understand. Then Kushkan became conscious and told his helpers

what he wanted. Then the spirit entered him again. He put on the

headdress but did not tie it. As his helpers sang, Kushkan danced.

The headdress moved from his head down his back, then onto his

right shoulder, then to his left shoulder. Then it moved again to his

head and he came out of his trance.105

Next he offered up to anyone in the audience a short pole with a line

and steel fishhook. He called in a red snapper spirit this time.

Kushkan would then swallow the hook and the holder of the rod

would jerk the line. But the hook would come out without hurting

Kushkan. Then his spirit named “Strong” came to him. His helpers

put a red-hot iron down his throat without harm. His fourth spirit

entered him. He took his wolf knife, cut a man’s face from scalp to

chin, then threw his knife away and pressed the sides of the cut

together. He sang his four spirit songs and all four spirits entered

him. Then he called for feathers, put them on the cut. Next he


painted the man‘s face. Only a slight scar from the cut remained.

This ended his performance. Still another magical trick was that

when he put on a robe of dressed moose hide, no one could pull it

off, even though it was not tied.106

Recall (from Chapter 4) it was Kushkan who had a fishhook stick

because a girl on her “moon time” had peeked at him through a crack in

the ceremonial house wall.107

Shape Transformations

Reports of shamans changing their shape are usually associated with

accounts of sorcerers or witches.108 Nevertheless, many shamans had

such abilities, and it was usually taken as an indicator of a very powerful

shaman.109 Less frequent are reports of transformations to hide from the

enemy during warfare. More rare are accounts of transformations taking

place during a shaman’s power display.110

One of the more common forms is transformation into a bear.111 The

Iroquois Medicine Society had a shaman who would sing his power song

and “then transform himself into a bear and run around there in the

[ceremonial house] room.”112 Juan de la Cruz Norte, a Serrano shaman,

“was able to transform himself visibly into a bear” during his dance

ceremonies.113 The Pueblo witches commonly transform into bears, but

into cats, dogs, burros, and owls as well.114 The same holds true for the

Bear-Walker witches of the Forest Potawatomis, who not only transform

into bears, but “the shapes of foxes, owls, turkeys, dogs and cats can be

assumed for purposes of speed in travel if for no other reason.”115 Colville

shamans with the bluejay spirit power “turned into bluejays at a dance,

which no one was allowed to leave. They would fly out through a crack in

the door…One such named inyas (Aeneas, Ignace?) could jump up a tree

and dance on one foot on its tip.”116

There was a central Miwok shaman who had bear medicine, although

he did not become a doctor. Around 1914 his brother, Tom Williams, gave

the following account of his ability to transform himself.

He go to Supehmoh, this side Springfield. They make big hangi

[ceremonial house] for big dance. Lots Indians come. Brother he

says he show them (his powers). He says you go get bark live oak,

pile it up inside, burn it. After all people are inside of hangi he

comes up from outside and goes in door. No one sees him. He looks

like a bear. He goes in (and) walks across fire. He was really a bear.

People then saw him. He sat in middle of fire. No burn him. He laid

down in fire growling like bear; he grovels around and makes hole.

He stays in fire and plays for three or four hours. Then he goes

outside just like bear. He goes in river and washes off. No more

play. When he go inside hangi, he laugh at all Indians. “What’s

matter you fellows,” he says. That’s (the) way one time (with) my

brother. He no doctor, he no sing. White man afraid (of) brother.

They think he crazy. They see fire he go in, no hurt him.117

An early 19th century Seminole shaman, named Wildcat (Coacoochee),

became renown for leading the escape of twenty Seminole from imprison-

ment in St. Augustine in 1837. He used his medicine powers to break

out. In one account Coacoochee “magically decreased the size of himself

and the others so that they could pass through the small hole in their

cell wall, put their guards to sleep magically, and once they were outside,

made the ground move backward under their feet to hasten their flight;

another version says that he managed the escape by means of his ability

as a sorcerer to pass through solid walls and locked doors.”118

An evil Cahuilla shaman living at Los Coyotes canyon was well-known

for his ability to change his shape. Jolian Norte recalled, “My grandfa-

ther’s father named Met (gopher) was a great pul (shaman) who claimed to

be God. He could catch bullets in his hands, pull up [spontaneously grow]

tobacco from the ground, and see the child in the sun. At one time he was

taken by the priests, whipped and locked up, but he became a little child

and they were frightened, and let him go.”119

Transformations of objects are also a form of power displays. The

Ojibwa Midé shamans were known “to transform one object into another,

such as charcoal into bullets and ashes into gunpowder, or a handful of

goose feathers into birds or insects.”120 There is also an account of two

Stalo shamans having a contest that involved transformation. “A shaman

cut circles of bark from opposite sides of a tree and painted a red spot on


one of the circles. Applying his lips to the opposite circle, he sucked the

red through the tree and spat it out. He explained that his power came

from the sucker. A second shaman present tried the same thing, and

succeeded, but took a much longer time. His power, he explained, was

from the leech.”121

Power Contests

Power contests between two or more shamans, especially from two

different nations or settlements, usually take the form where “the two

contestants throw their powers at each other and try to overcome each

other.”122 Usually the winning shaman knocked the other shaman down,

or “killed” him, causing the fallen shaman’s assistant to aid immediately

in his revival.123 Yaicatset, the Tlingit shaman mentioned above, once held

a power contest with a female shaman in which “he picked her off her feet

as if he were a magnet. She stuck right on his back, although she tried

to get down.”124 In other cases the shamans might throw their power at

an object, causing it to move or be displaced. We have a Washo example

where “them old doctors used to see who had the most power. They’d stick

four or five sticks in the ground, each one farther away than the last one,

and see how many they could knock down.”125 However, these tests could

really take any form the shamans desired. An unusual form of test among

the Omaha “consisted in trying to jump or fly over one another; the one

who succeeded in so doing was regarded not only as possessing greater

magic but as controlling the one defeated.”126 Lummi shamans would see

who could first pull a knot from a tree with their spirit power.127 Wintun

shamans would see who could put out a flaming pitch tree knot by clap-

ping their hands from a distance.128 They would also animate objects such

as rocks and sticks.129

The foothill Maidu shamans of central California had group contests.

They gather in the dance house from long distances. Each

doctor, having previously fasted and prepared, dances for himself.

The clown is the leader of the dance. Any touching of a competitor,

either with the body or with a held object, is debarred. Power is

exerted via a supernatural shooting or transmission. The hands

are held against the breast and then thrown forcibly forward as

if warding off or sending out mysterious influences. After a time

the weaker contestants begin to be taken with seizures and pains,

some bleeding from the nose, some rolling on the floor. Others

follow, and such as have recovered from the first shock busy them-

selves sucking out the cause of the later victim’s succumbing. As

the number of competitors decreases and the survivors are those of

the intensest [sic] power, the excitement and the imaginative facul-

ties of the audience as well as the participants increase. Flames

and light are seen about the few who are still contending, and they,

to demonstrate their strength, cause lizards or mice [as well as

birds, etc.] to appear and disappear. Finally the contest narrows

to a pair, and when one of these yields the lone survivor is victor

of the occasion. It is said that women have been known to win,

although as a rule their milder powers cause them to be among the

first to be taken ill.130

No one was allowed to enter the ceremonial house once the contest began.

The only musical instruments used were cocoon rattles held by the

shamans.131

These power contests were called lilik by the Southern Maidu and

tuyuka by the Northern Maidu, however shamans from different districts

would compete as individuals or on teams. The most common form was

the shooting at each other with “poison sticks” called sila.

When shooting the shaman makes a hole in the ground with

his heel, raising a little mound of earth by turning his heel in the

soil. He takes the “poison” (kept in oak balls) between the thumb

and finger of his right hand. Then he points at his victim with his

left hand, stooping and striking the pile of dust as he throws his

poison with an underhand motion of his right arm. Sometimes the

intended victim, if he is a good shaman, catches the “poison” as it

flies towards him. The “poison sticks” have been dipped into strong

“medicine” and they sometimes knock over even a “good doctor.”

The visiting shamans, say from Ione, shoot at the party of

local shamans, sometimes from a distance of four hundred or five

hundred yards. The local shamans dance with chests expanded

and arms held back in a nearly horizontal position. When one is


struck by a “poison stick” he sometimes falls prone and uncon-

scious to the ground. If he is not attended by his shaman friends

within half an hour he will die. The majority of victims get up

without aid and spit out the “poison” which is laid on a rock.

Sometimes there is an accumulation of “half a panfull” of “poison

sticks.” The Shingle Springs informant claimed to have seen such

an accumulation himself.

After shooting away their “poisons” as they approach, the

visiting shamans join the host shamans and dance around a fire

out-of-doors. This performance is usually on a summer’s day. They

dance both to the right and to the left. At times people who are not

shamans participate in this dance, but they have to be “careful.”

Sometimes a stout stick is driven into the ground and shot at

with the “poison sticks.” A weak shaman will knock only a little

off of the top with his “poison,” a powerful shaman will break off a

good deal or knock the stick over completely.132

A power contest between the Las Vegas (Southern Paiute) and the

Cahuilla has been recorded. In this case the Las Vegas journeyed to the

Cahuilla country. When they arrived,

they were the last to come and everyone was waiting. After

sundown a fire was built and each doctor showed his powers.

Some competed in smoking, making pipe, smoke, and all come out

of their toes. Others brought black “stink bugs” out of their ears

and toes. Certain mountain-sheep doctors took pieces of sheep

fat or meat from their clothing and threw them on the coals; the

pieces looked like fresh kill.

They could not decide who was the winner; the Paiute could

equal the tricks of all the others. They sang all night, in turn.

Toward morning the (Las Vegas) boy who had burned himself said,

“Make a hot fire; use mesquite wood.” At daylight the fire turned

to red coals. The Paiute boy came close and threw himself in the

center. Everyone was surprised. The Cahuilla said, “What are we

doing? We have lost a man!” Then at sunrise, when there were only

ashes left, they saw the doctor who had been burned walk toward

them, smiling.133

Consequently, the Las Vegas boy won the contest.

The use of a pipe in power contents between shamans is also found

among the Sinkaietk in Washington. “When smoking, a shaman might

‘put himself right in the bottom of his pipe.’ If an unfriendly shaman came

to harm him, the smoker’s power closed the stem and the bowl of the

pipe, capturing the other’s power within. As a challenge to power contests,

shamans often passed their pipes to each other for a few puffs.”134

Around 1850 there was a famous Assiniboin medicine man known as

Black Snake who lived on a northern branch of the Saskatchewan River.

The ordinary methods of conjuration he despised, while the

medicine bag and ordinary frippery of his profession was never

worn, contenting himself merely with a small bean-shaped amulet

or “medicine” of polished black stone, which was suspended from

his neck by a thong of moose sinew, that passed through an opening

in its center. It was in 1855, or thereabouts, that he performed the

feat that caused his name, already famous, to be so widely known.

A medicine man of a neighboring tribe, himself illustrious,

becoming jealous of the Black Snake’s rising reputation and influ-

ence, challenged him to a trial of “medicine,” which was eagerly

accepted. At the time appointed the rivals met in the midst of a great

plain and in the presence of a great concourse made up of whites,

half-breeds, and members of their respective tribes. More than two

thousand people were present, many of whom, both whites and

Indians, and whose testimony is above criticism or reproach, are

living witnesses today of the truth of all that is narrated.

Both conjurers had prepared for the ordeal by long fasting and

repeated conjurations with a view of strengthening their respec-

tive “medicine,” and both appeared equally certain of the result.

Following the grand council and smoking of the pipe, without

which no savage ceremony of note can take place, the rivals walked

out into the open ground, seating themselves face to face upon the

earth, half a dozen or more feet apart. Now began a strange and

silent struggle for supremacy. Minutes and hours passed without a

movement on the part of either; not so much as the twitching of an

eyelid was apparent; but each glared at the face of the other with

a savage intensity and concentration of energy that was absolutely


appalling to all that beheld. And even the multitude were motion-

less and appeared to hold their very breaths in awe.

At last the Black Snake sprang abruptly to his feet, his right

arm outstretched to its utmost length, the right hand grasping his

amulet and pointing at his rival; and then after momentary delay

and contemplation of the motionless conjurer, he drew his powerful

form to its full height, and in a thundering voice commanded him

to “DIE!” For a few seconds the latter visibly shook and trembled;

then, after a brief struggle, toppled over on the earth, where,

without a spasm, he lay stretched a corpse; or, as the Indians

expressed it, “His spirit had fled beyond the Sand buttes.”135

Note that the “intensity” (input of will) and “concentration” (focus

of attention) lasted for hours in this competition—an intense, repeated

observation.

As a free lance reporter, William Draper observed a Comanche “sun

dance test” between two young medicine men, Bear Claws and White

Antelope, in July of 1897. It appeared as a full-page story in the New York

Herald. The challenge was to break free from their bindings to the Sun

Dance pole by breaking their ropes instead of tearing the flesh loose from

their chests where the ropes were attached. In this case Bear Claws failed,

while White Antelope succeeded. “If the cords were being weakened by his

pulling against them, I could not detect it, and I stood only five feet away

[taking photographs]. White Antelope was steady on his feet as he gave

the fourth pull, which snapped both cords at the same time. He stumbled

backward but did not fall to the ground.”136

Anthropologist Clark Wissler observed a weather-control power contest

between two Plains medicine men, Bull Shield and He Crow.

The former was well on in years, long famous for his varied

powers, the latter still young, ambitious and rising. The occasion

for the contest was a tribal festival at which time, according to

custom, a medicine man or two was expected to see to it that good

weather was maintained, particularly that there should be no rain

and that the sun should shine. For many years this obligation had

been assumed by Bull Shield, without failure, but long before the

appointed time, in the year of my visit, He-crow had boasted that

he was a great rain maker and would use his powers to humble

his rival.

I arrived at the ceremonial grounds early. It was cloudy and

misty. He-crow was strutting about declaring that his incanta-

tions had brought up the clouds and that he would produce

rain to prevent the ceremony. Now and then when an audience

would assemble, He-crow would dance, jumping high into the air,

pointing toward the clouds with the stem of a small pipe and occa-

sionally crying out in a tone which he fancied sounded like those

of an eagle on the wing. Obviously this was meant as an appeal to

the Thunder Birds. Altogether it was not an inspiring scene, partly

because He-crow was a small unimpressive person. Anyway he

had few sympathizers.

Bull Shield, busy in his tipi, was by far the more picturesque,

stripped to his breech cloth, his body painted yellow, with many

symbols in blue, so distributed as to emphasize the symmetry

of his figure. His ritual for fair weather consisted in songs and

prayers to the Sun, whom he regarded as the one great supreme

power in the universe. Some of his friends and understudies had

gathered in to help with the singing, and to fill the ceremonial pipe.

Every now and then, there would be a rift in the clouds through

which the clear blue of the sky could be seen; then He-crow would

come forth to dance frantically, crying out to the Thunder Birds

and after an interval the clouds would unite and threaten rain.

Then He-crow would walk about smiling and boasting about

how he offset the power of his rival. Soon the deep tones of Bull

Shield’s drum would be heard and the low but tense singing of his

followers, continuing until another rift in the clouds materialized.

In the afternoon, the sun broke through for brief intervals causing

He-crow to engage in violent dance contortions and strain his

hoarse voice still more. The white people standing about now felt

that Bull Shield was winning. It was plain that their sympathies

were with him anyway. Finally the western sky cleared, the sun

cast a glow over the whole landscape. We saw no more of He-crow,

but Bull Shield in his glorious paint came out, offered a pipe to the

Sun and prayed for all the people. It was a great triumph for him.

He obviously enjoyed it to the full.


My white friends were impressed. They shook their heads

mystified, saying they knew not how it was done but that everyone

could see that these old Indians had some control over Nature and

that a medicine man could do what no white man could do.137

Other reports confirm that shamans can be permanently injured or

killed in such power contests.138 Here is an example of one such incident

between two Creek shamans.

A doctor showed his power by throwing his handkerchief at a

tree up which it ran up like a squirrel. His opponent then produced

a number of centipedes which ran about everywhere but hurt no

one. The first then began to try to reach his antagonist in the

shapes of various animals, sometimes burrowing under the earth

to get at him. Finally, however, the other created a centipede which

bit him in the hand and killed him.139

In Indian Territory (Oklahoma) the Creek and Osage used to hold

contests between their shamans. One such contest held north of Tulsa

near Bird Creek was well remembered. Pofkadjuli, a Creek mulatto, and

an (unnamed) Osage battled for a long time, each time matching the oppo-

nent’s power.

At last the Osage made medicine and performed a feat that

could not be excelled. Then it was Pofkadjuli’s turn. He went out

to the plot in the center and began dancing all around the Osage,

singing and enchanting, and all the time closing in on the Osage

shaman. Suddenly, just as he was in front of the latter, he jerked

up his blanket from behind and swung his back around toward

the Osage. Immediately a swarm of bumblebees poured from

beneath the blanket and crowded about the Osage’s head, driving

him headlong from the field.140

In the following example the shamans were not in sight of each other.

Once a wabeno and a medé held a contest to see who was the

more powerful. They built their wigwams a few yards apart, and

each man sat inside his lodge with the contents of his medicine-

bag spread out in front of him. The medé had a large bag full of

many medicines, the wabeno a small bag containing only a few.

They sat and shot at one another. The magic feather, stick, or other

missile sped through the air unseen and struck its victim in the

chest; but the wounded man simply rubbed his body with medicine

and extracted it. Thus they fought all through the day, shooting at

each other alternately, until at last the wabeno had but one medi-

cine left. He called to the medé, “I have but one medicine left; if

that fails you will kill me.” It was a pinch of sand about the size of

an ordinary charge of powder. He shot, and the sand penetrated

into every part of the medé’s body, rendering the counter-medicine

useless. The man’s body and limbs swelled up until he died. Thus

the wabeno proved his superiority.141

Densmore mentions that the Chippewa Midewiwan members would

have a contest following a Mide ceremony to determine the strength of

one’s medicine, but gives no details.142

Although usually portrayed as highly individual and competitive,

shamans would combine their powers during a crisis. Already mentioned

is the practice of calling in more shamans during a difficult healing. One

of the most spectacular acts of cooperation between shamans is a Cahuilla

account of their shamans stopping a tsunami as it neared Palm Springs.

Such a tsunami would have come there via Los Angeles. Their oral history

recounts three such floods, the last one occurring “much, much time ago.”

We do not know…if it was earthquakes in the sea that sent the

water in to us, but we know that when it came, it came quick, with

a sound, a roar, that was heard much distance away.

The water came standing high, with great waves rolling over

and over as it came. No man could swim in this water. It turned

over like wheels, and carried weeds, cactus, wood, and everything

that stood in its way. Many of the Indians lived near the foot of the

mountains, for it was there that most of the springs of water were.

The water did not come in one moment, no. It came rolling along


slowly, so that the people who heard and saw, ran up the moun-

tain sides and saved their lives. But nothing down in the valley

lived, either animals or men…the third and last time it came slowly

along. All the Indian people knew it was coming. They sent fast

runners for all the head men, all the medicine men, all the men

of power to come. They gathered together every one of them, and

they used their power as they went to meet it. The water stopped.

It never came again.143

Animation Power

A final form of power display is the animation of inanimate objects.

Recall (from Chapter 3) the encounter Lewis Cass had with a snakeskin

medicine bag that turned into a snake. These types of animation are

reported all across North America, and are one of the most common types

of power displays. For example, many of the power displays throughout

the Pueblo region were animated in one way or another. They include

making corn or wheat plants grow under your eyes, drawing grain

from wall pictures or from corn-ear fetishes, getting spruce from

a distant mountain within a few minutes, producing a live animal

(rabbit or deer), making feathers or other objects levitate, tarnishing

silver, or shriveling leather. Sia shamans, reports a townsman,

“can make a bowl dance on the floor, with nobody near it. They can

call clouds and make it rain in their room. If they ask Boshaianyi

for corn, it will fall from the ceiling. They can call in different kinds

of animals, and their fur will fall from the ceiling.”144

One animation display was even observed by an army general. In 1867

General Phillippe de Trobriand observed an Arikara power display in

which “a little doll fastened to the floor seized with both hands the stem of

a pipe which was presented to it to smoke.”145 The Kwakiutl had a “feather

dance” ceremony in which multiple feathers would be levitated and caused

to dart about the room.146

The Hopi Yayatü (Mother) society displayed animation feats in addition

to fire handling. They

could parachute off a cliff in a basket, transform inanimate things

into living creatures, and once after eating a rabbit stew they laid

the bones together, covered them over, and changed them into four

rabbits which ran up the ladder and jumped across the kiva hatch

and off to the valley. Another time the Yayatü terrified a visitor

from Isleta who wore a black hat and fancy garters. They covered

the hat and garters with a white blanket, and soon something was

seen to move under it, and when it was removed, the hat was found

transformed into a raven and the garters into a snake. They called

to the Isletan to come and get his hat and garters, but he ran off

afraid, crying he did not want them.147

Then there is Sansile, a Ponca shaman, who would swallow a certain

kind of grass and then she would draw a green snake from her mouth.148

The Pawnee had an annual power display ceremony during the

fall known as the Tawaru kutchu (“Big sleight-of-hand”) or Twenty-day

Ceremony, but in fact often lasted a month. In one of their performances

“stalks of corn were made to grow up and mature in a moment, likewise

plums and cherries.”149 Taos Pueblo shamans also performed this feat.

They would put corn in a deep hole and make it grow.

When the dancers came in here by the door, they put the corn

which they had in their hands in the pot. They put the pot some

way from the fire where it did not get hot. They poked in the pot

with a stick and there was a crackling noise inside, and smoke

came out of it. They danced around the fire four times. The pot

was filled with corn. They stood in a row and began to dance...Corn

commenced to grow and put out leaves. When they stopped dancing

they held up the mullers to the east, south, west, and north. They

broke a muller in two and made it just like one again.150

There is a very interesting account of a Yankton bear-dreamer shaman

named Wasunopa who had the ability to make plants grow instantly. Here

again the feat was observed by an army general.


They told of him that a general at Fort Randall once invited him

to demonstrate his supernatural power. “If you picked a piece of

ground and raised a turnip for me on it, I could well say that you

must have prepared it beforehand. So let me pick the ground, and

then will you raise me a turnip on the ground I pick?”

Wasunopa said that would be all right with him. So the

general—they say—picked a plot this square (yard, about) and it

was right in the street where the soldiers of the detachment crossed

every day to go to meals.

While everyone looked on Wasunopa went through his mystery

acts; he behaved exactly like a bear; and presently he raised a

turnip out of the dust. He tried again, and raised another; and

again. The fourth time, instead of a turnip, he drew forth a certain

weed which grows in turnip country but is not a turnip.

It is said that the general had first said, “If you raise a turnip

for me from a plot of my choosing, I will give you what you wish.”

So that is where he is often censured. There was his chance to ask

for wares from the warehouse; or perhaps fifty dollars. Instead he

said, “I will take ten.” The general was very cheerful as he parted

with ten dollars, they say.151

Arikara bear shamans also performed this feat. “The introductory

act was to produce the spontaneous growth of a prairie turnip (pomme

blanche) from the floor of the interior of the lodge. The dancers passed

over the entire surface of the lodge floor. Then, suddenly stopping, they

pointed out to the public leaves sprouting from the root. One of the musi-

cians pulled it up and passed it through the rows of the audience so that

all might see it.”152

Kutchin shamans would animate animal skins. “A shaman took a

marten skin which was hanging on the wall of a lodge and put it down

on the floor in the middle of a group of people. Instantly it began to run

around like a live animal, jumping all over everyone and causing all the

excitement which might be expected under the circumstances. Then the

shaman picked it up again and hung it on the wall. It was (then again)

only a tanned skin.”153

There was a white settler who married a Cowichan woman. He lived

for many years among the Kwantlen branch and had seen their power

performances.

He saw a shaman take a feather and stick it apparently into a

piece of rock. The stone then began to roll about, but the feather

remained in it. Another wore in his cap a number of dried birds’

heads. He took these out of the hat and threw them into the air,

whereupon each became a living bird and flew about the shaman.

Another took a bucketful of water and danced round it for a while.

Presently a little fir-tree was seen to grow out of it, each branch of

which was tipped with feathers. Another, to show his powers, sat

with his feet and lower limbs in an oven. Presently water began to

run out of the oven and put the fire out; but when he withdrew his

legs and feet the water disappeared and the fire came again.154

Other Kwantlen animation feats included throwing two stuffed mice in

a fire upon which two live mice came out of a nearby hole in the ground.

The same was done with a feather, which came out of the hole and danced

around. Then an old man “begged someone to do his dancing for him;

but no one complying, he cast into the fire some native fish-hooks he

had in his hand, whereupon they flew hither and thither and fixed them-

selves in the lips and mouths of the bystanders, from which they could not

remove them till he himself did so.”155 Anthropologist Charles Hill-Tout,

who studied the Kwantlen, was at a loss to explain their power displays.

However, he concluded, “it is not enough to put them aside with the asser-

tion that it is all humbug, ignorant superstition, or crass credulity.”156 I

agree.

A dancing-feather feat was also performed by Isleta shamans. They

would stand a feather upright in a special basket, and it would dance with

a person, bending in the direction the person danced while dancing up

and down.157 A variation on this was a Lillooet shaman who could make

feathers talk.158 The Wintu shaman Homaldo, who was their first Bole-

Maru dreamer, could make sticks dance. He


took a bundle of elder sticks about a foot long. He piled them by

the fire. He moved his hands and talked to them and they stood up

on end and moved around. Then they went out of the smoke hole

one by one. He danced and pulled half dollars out of the air and

put them in a basket. Soon he had a basket half full of money. He

said, “I don’t have to work like you people. This is a gift to me”.159

On another occasion “he took an elder stick and put three crosspieces

on it. He tied tassels of elder on the end of the crosspieces and stuck it

in the ground. As he sang the tassels jumped in time to his singing and

dancing.”160

In the Northwest Coast Area dancing sticks were often part of a healing

ceremony. Among the Yakima this feat was known as “dancing the stick.”

The sticks were about two inches in diameter and about three feet long.

An old doctor who became quite famous for his exploits in

making sticks dance used to keep five of them for his séances…

After he had sung four times, then any person was invited to take

hold of one of the sticks. As the old man sang and kept time with

his hands, the person was jumped about by the stick, which began

hopping up and down. As the old tamanowash man warmed up

and sang louder and faster, the stick danced more vehemently

and the party (volunteer) holding it was instructed to keep it from

moving and hold it still. The more strenuously he tried to resist the

dancing, the more violently it hopped up and down and around

the lodge. Finally, the stick raised up and jerked up violently the

uplifted arms of the one who was trying to hold it…They say their

muscles were thrown into a state of powerful contractions so that

they cannot let go their hold by any effort of the will…A great

number of eye-witnesses have testified that, after being danced

about for a time at the will of the sorcerer, these sticks would

stand or dance about alone, and even remain suspended in the

air, nothing touching them.161

The neighboring Cowlitz poles were carved sticks about five to six

feet long. “When they sang tamanwis [power] songs, they were made like

persons, they danced.”162

Among the Tlingits there was a shaman named Yaicatset who was

remembered for having a mat that was animated. “He was so powerful

that when they put his straw mat in front of him, the fringes on it would

move as if they were alive. He was one of the most powerful doctors.”163

Another Puget Sound shaman could make his leather belt twist like a

snake.164

The movement of a stone power object or heavy stone is also a common

report. One of the power displays of the Ojibwa Mide shamans included

moving big round stones.165 Another Ojibwa shaman, named Ketegas, had

a healing stone that he would animate. “This stone was egg shape…’You

may not think this stone is alive,’ he said, ‘but it is. I can make it move.’

(He did not demonstrate this to me.) He went on to say that on two occa-

sions he had loaned the stone to sick people to keep during the night.

Both times he found it in his pocket in the morning. Ketegas kept it in

a little leather case he had made for it.”166 Yellow Legs, a 19th century

Midewiwan leader, also acquired an animate stone through a dream. The

location of this stone was revealed in a dream, and Yellow Legs sent two

men to find it for him. They found it thirty miles away on Birch Island in

the middle of Lake Winnipeg. The stone had contours on it that suggested

eyes and a mouth. During ceremony Yellow Legs “used to tap this stone

with a new knife. It would then open its mouth. Yellow Legs would insert

his fingers and take out a small leather sack with medicine in it. Mixing

this medicine with some water, he would pass the decoction around. A

small sip was taken by those present.”167

The Kwakiutl have an annual winter ceremony called Tsitsika, which

literally means “everything is not real.” During this time shamans demon-

strated their powers. Charlie Nowell recalled from his youth a “good dance”

he once observed a woman perform.

And then the chief says to the singers, “Beat your board with

your sticks, and let us see what she will do.” And she go from one

end of the house to the other pretending to try to catch something

that she alone can see. When she catches it the chief says, “Stop

beating that board.” The chief listens but she don’t say nothing so

they beat it again. She does the same thing four times. Then when

she catches something it whistles when she moves her hand and

she throws it among the singers, and there at once there is a lot of


whistling among the singers and then a big snake will come out

that reaches to both sides of the house, and she come along with

a wood made like a sword and there is a man on the centre of this

serpent—a man’s face. And she comes there and strikes the man’s

head with it and it splits and the two sides of the serpent spread

apart, and then it comes together again and begins to go down

and is supposed to go under the ground. Then the people begin to

sing her song, and she goes around the house and back behind the

screen and stays there. She does this only one night.168

Other Kwakiutl “shamans’ magic” included “standing on red hot

stones, causing a stone to float, bringing a dead salmon to life, [and]

pushing an arrow through one’s body.”169 The nearby Bella Bella also had

similar power displays such as those at their Ghost Dance (not the same

as the famous Paviotso Ghost Dance). “The feature of the dance is that the

Ghost dancer causes a skeleton to rise up out of the ground; then makes

it vanish.”170

The Kwakiutl “feather dance” power display, mentioned above, took

other forms as well. Another form was to place a large washtub in the

center of the ceremonial house near the fire. A Canadian Indian Agent,

who witnessed it, gave the following description.

About a dozen Indians in full war-paint, and dressed in bear-

skins, came in, each with an ordinary eagle’s feather in his hand.

They danced round and round the tub, then, at a signal, each one

threw his feather into the air, when to our intense surprise they

remained in mid-air, each feather keeping above the chief who had

thrown it. At a motion from the finger of the owner, his feather

would dart hither and thither through the room; sometimes going

thirty or forty feet from the owner. This feather dance was kept

up for some little time, and presently all the chiefs who had been

standing around the wash-tub walked backwards, and all the

feathers fell into the tub. Immediately the Indians standing round

dashed buckets of water on them, and thoroughly soaked them. At

another signal the feathers rose from the water and went sailing

all around the room, shooting hither and thither. The chiefs retired

one by one, and as each went his feather would dart from the other

end of the room into his hand, to be carried out with him. It was

one of the most puzzling sights I have ever seen, and we tried with

all our might to discover how it was done, but did not succeed.171

Among many of the Northwest Coast cultures there are also special

ceremonial dancing poles, about five feet in length, which move about on

their own accord during ceremony. They had figures carved on the top

showing the head and belly. There is a special medicine power for this

that most often manifested as levitation or animation of paraphernalia at

ceremonies.172 Sometimes called “power boards” or “power sticks,” they

were a common form of power displays. Once the shaman’s power enters

into a dance pole, whoever the pole is handed to, cannot let go and is often

jerked about the room by the pole.173 These dance poles were also used

in the same manner as the Twana caxwu (from Chapter 5) for finding lost

objects or persons. Mary John, a Chinook shaman, located the body of a

drowned man using her dance pole, held by a man while in a canoe.

Fanny Flounder, the powerful Yurok healer who died in the 1940’s,

would levitate baskets off a ledge during her ceremonies. She was asked

once how she did it, and she simply replied, “I just think them off.”174

Such statements as this confirm their knowledge of a working relationship

between consciousness and matter.

A powerful Modoc shaman name Black Sage-Brush Head

had little cottontail rabbits hanging in his earth-lodge. Sometimes

they would run around as though alive; they were spirits. He had a

stuffed butterball duck skin hanging on the south side. Sometimes

this spirit made blood flow from the duck’s bill and at other times

it flew about in the lodge...

Pat Kane described a performance which he saw when a little

boy at Pelican bay. The shaman held a fire dance during the day.

Then he told the people to place various stuffed skins on the floor

of the lodge: mink, weasel, a shitepoke (tuwa´), and owl. He sang

songs for each of the animals. He first sang one of the shitepoke’s

songs and told them to watch whether it moved. It did not. He

sang its second song and the bird walked around pecking at the

ground. He sang the mink’s song three times. The mink moved

about holding a little minnow in its teeth. He sang a song of the


weasel spirit. The animal rose and danced, holding up his fore

paws. That evening Pat’s parents took him into the lodge again.

The shaman sang the weasel song again. It danced as before; then

it disappeared. No one moved...He sang a weasel song, telling them

to watch for the weasel’s return. Suddenly its tail appeared from

the ground, shaking. He sang a second weasel song for some time

and its hind quarters appeared. A third song brought the trunk,

and with the fourth the weasel lay there motionless. Everyone saw

it.175

In 1884 anthropologist W. J. Hoffman reported of witnessing the

animation of a doll by Arikara shamans.

The dancers opened the circle and formed a horseshoe shape,

the opening toward the audience. One now observed on the ground

a small doll dressed as a warrior, about five or six inches high,

made of wood and rags, but well painted and ornamented with

feathers. When the music had ended, one of the principal dancers

continued to dance alone, quietly before this small image, begging

it in various ways to join in the festivities, imploring the spirit of

the warrior, which it was supposed to represent, to affirm its pres-

ence and show that it approved of the ceremony by dancing. And,

little, by little, one observed the doll keeping time, finally following

the choreography of the dancers which surrounded it. One could

not see the finest thread attached to the doll, and this act was

admittedly done well.176

A Southern Paiute (Las Vegas band) shaman named Runs Like

Mockingbird (Yanpavinuk) had the eagle as his spirit helper. “While this

man sang he would pick up some sort of plant, and as he held it in his

hand, it flowered and bore fruit...He was able, too, to restore life to dead

animals—quail, desert tortoise, and rabbits. He picked up the dead body,

gave it life, and the animal ran over the hill, out of sight. But always on

the far side of the hill it would be found dead.”177 This appears to be a case

of animation of an object. However, I have previously mentioned there are

accounts of Indians who died for several days and then came back to life,

often with a message for the people. Such persons had the potential to

become famous prophets.178

Animation power was observed among the Micmac in the early 18th

century.

The skin of an Otter which had been flayed, perhaps six months

before is made to walk, and this is how they go about it. After

spreading it on its belly, they bring the head toward the hinder

part by means of folds, made in such a way that it appears to be

all in one piece.

A little tin mirror is placed on the right of the head, at a distance

of four or five feet…It is only with great difficulty that it moves at

first, but, little by little, it stretches out and drags itself as far as

the Mirror where it stops.179

Some of the more spectacular Micmac power displays were by White

Eyes (Wobik), one of their most powerful, 17th century shamans. After

being converted, he watched the priests repeatedly throw his medicine bag

into the sea, only to have it return under his pillow each morning. A fellow

shaman could make an iron rail float on water, and another could drive

his legs up to his knees in the earth when he danced.180 Wobik “would

also sit on the beach and make eel spears, throwing them into the water

as fast as they were made. When he collected the spears, it is claimed,

each one would have an eel on it. He never missed. The number of different

feats which could be performed because of his power were legion.”181 For

example, he was also known for his ability to stop bullets and cannon

balls with his chest.182

In more recent times, Old John, an Ojibwa shaman, led Fred Blessing,

a white man and student of their culture, into the woods near his cabin

to a particular large boulder. Of course the intent of the hike was not

mentioned, but when they arrived Old John took out his pipe, smoked

it for a few minutes, then took up his drum and began singing. When

finished, he cleared a small patch of ground, and

began to make a little mound of earth as he sat crosslegged. Using

the palms of his hands he shaped the soil into a cone some eight or

nine inches high. He then partially unwrapped the cloth [medicine]


bundle and took out the tail feather of an eagle…Taking the feather

in his right hand he smoothed out its edges with his left. Leaning

forward he stuck the quill in the mound of earth so that the feather

stood upright…

After placing the feather Old John picked up his drum and

began a song…The song suddenly rose to a high vibrato as Old

John stared intently at the feather. When the song ended and

the last drum beat sounded, the feather jumped from the mound

of earth and fluttered to the ground! I rushed to the little pile of

earth and scattered it, looking for some hidden device, but found

nothing. A close scrutiny of the feather ended with the same result.

I looked at Old John and a smile was playing across his face as he

began to unwrap the remainder of the cloth bundle.

Now the old fellow held two wooden figures in his hand. One

apparently represented a male, the other a female. They were

carved out of white ash and had movable heads and arms which

were attached to the bodies in a manner not discernable to me.

The medicine man then smoothed out a square of white cloth on

the ground and laid the figures on their backs on one half of the

cloth and carefully folded the other half over them so that they

were completely covered. Once again taking up his drum, he sang

a song that I came to recognize as belonging to the Medicine Lodge

[Midewiwan]…As he sang he closed his eyes and seemed unaware

of anything around him. I was surprised to see sweat forming on

his forehead. Taking a look at the covered figures, I was startled

to see movement under the cloth. The heads seemed to be turning

back and forth and the arms were evidently moving up and down.

When the song ended Old John calmly uncovered the figures and

handed them to me for inspection.183

Having married an Ojibwa woman and being adopted into both the

Red Lake and Leech Lake bands, Blessing was certain that he was the

only white man to have ever witnessed this bit of magic.

The Arikara Power Displays

Of all the annual power display ceremonies, that of the Arikara

Shunáwanùh (Magical Performance) ceremony (mentioned in Chapter

2), was probably the most often observed ceremony by whites. This had

to do with their location along the Upper Missouri River, which was the

major traffic route for traders and settlers in that area. Consequently,

these performances were often witnessed by whites throughout the 19th

century, until banned by the government in 1885. Whites usually referred

to it as the Medicine Lodge, Holy Lodge ceremony, or simply “the Opera.”

The ceremony began in September and lasted for several months. At least

eight different medicine societies came together during this period, each

giving their own versions of power displays. The earliest written account

is from 1804 by Pierre A. Tabeau. He reports:

I saw a man, named Scarinau, absolutely naked, his hands

empty, the lodge well lighted, show to me, nearby, a leather garter

and, after having rolled it in his hands, throw it on the ground,

[and it] changed into a living adder. He took it up and showed it to

me again, a garter. He repeated the same trick ten times without

giving the least hint as to the means that he employed.

A man all in black comes stealthily behind one of the actors

and, with all his force, deals him a blow with a hatchet upon his

head. The sound of the blow leaves no doubt that he really received

it. All the spectators and the medicine men yell horribly; but, after

many contortions, one of them undertakes to cure him and the

dead is brought to life.

Another shoots a gun through the body of his companion who

falls down upon his back, dead. The blood gushes forth from two

openings, showing that the bullet has gone through the body; but,

after a great many grimaces and lamentations, he is also mysteri-

ously healed.

Some thrust a knife blade through the hand, pierce the arms,

the thighs, the tongue, and all these wounds, so apparent, merely

result in making the power of the doctors shine.

Finally, to crown the work, an elderly man, showing all the

symptoms of despair and transported by rage, plunges a barbed

arrow into his heart. He falls weltering in his blood. The actors, not


being able to withdraw the arrow without leaving the barb in the

body, seize the point to make it pass through. The spectator really

believes that he sees the feathers gradually enter and the arrow,

all bloody, come out on the other side under the shoulder blade.184

In another account, occurring around 1838, an Arikara shaman, well-

known to the mountain traders, performed a similar feat before an entire

Arapaho village.

In the center of a large circle of men, women, and children,

stood the subject…stripped to the waist, as the gunner’s mark. A

shot perforated his body with a bullet, which entered at the chest

and emerged from the opposite side. He instantly fell, and the blood

flowing in streams dyed the grass where he lay, and everything

seemed to prefigure the reality of death.

While in this condition, his wife approached and besprinkled

his face with water; soon after which he arose, as from a slumber—

the blood still pouring from him. Beplastering his wound with mud

before and behind, the blood ceased to flow, when he commenced

yawing and stretching; in a few minutes the plaster was removed

by a pass of the hand, and neither blood, nor wound, nor the sign

of a scratch or scar appeared! There stood the self-restored medi-

cine-man, before the wondering throng alive and well, and in all

the pride of his strength!

He then brought his naked son into the ring, a lad of some

eight years, and, standing at a distance of several yards, bow in

hand, he pierced him through and through, from diaphragm to

vertebrae, at three successive shots.

The boy fell dead, to every appearance, and the thick blood

freely coursed from his wounds.

The performer then clasped the body in his arms and bore it

around the ring for the inspection of all, three times in succes-

sion. Upon this he breathed into his mouth and nostrils, and, after

suffusing his face with water and covering his wounds with a mud

plaster, he commenced brief manipulations upon his stomach,

which soon ended in a complete recovery, nor left a single trace of

injury about him.

Both of these feats, if performed as said, can scarcely admit

the possibility of trick or slight of hand, and must stand as the

most astonishing instances of jugglery on record.185

In 1833 Maximilian, Prince of Weid, explored the Upper Missouri

River, where he came into contact with the Arikara. First published in

German, the historical accounts of his explorations in America were even-

tually published in English.186 He reports on the Arikara power displays

as follows.

The Arikkaras [sic] practice a number of strange tricks and

juggleries. They are remarkably dexterous in sleight-of-hand

performances, which they are said to have learned from a cele-

brated juggler. They institute medicine feasts at which entire come-

dies are performed. One, for instance, disguised in a bear’s skin,

with the head and claws, imitates the motions and the voice of the

animal so accurately that he cannot be distinguished from a real

bear. He is shot; the wound is plainly to be seen, and blood flows;

he drops down and dies; the skin is stripped off, and at last the

man appears safe and sound. On another occasion, a man’s head

is cut off with a sabre and carried out. The body remains bleeding,

without the head, and this headless trunk dances merrily about.

The head is then replaced, but with the face at the back. The man

continues to dance, but the head is seen in its right position, and

the man who was beheaded dances as if nothing had happened to

him. The bleeding wound is rubbed with the hand, it disappears,

and all is in order again. Men are shot; the blood flows; the wounds

are rubbed, and they come to life again. The Arikkaras perform

all these tricks with such consummate address, that the illusion

is complete, so that most of the French Canadians believe in the

reality of all these wonders.187

I would like to end this chapter with one of the most detailed accounts,

this one by D. D. Mitchell, a fur trader, who observed the performance of

a society of Arikara bear shamans in 1831. So incredible was this perfor-

mance that it took Mitchell four years before he ever spoke to others about

it. Remember, this was a time when there were many accounts of “Indian


jugglery” known to the general public. As was common in those times,

Mitchell saw it as some form of deception he was unable to explain. This

power display is similar to the above feather dance in that a number of

shamans are involved in the feat. I would not be surprised to find a direct

correlation between how many shamans join in on a power feat and how

spectacular the feat appears to the audience—the more shamans, the

better the show.

In civilized life, we know the many expedients to which men

resort in order to acquire a subsistence, and are not therefore

surprised, that, by perseverance and long practice, stimulated by

necessity, they should attain great dexterity in the art of decep-

tion. To find it, however, carried to such great perfection by wild

and untutored savages, who are neither urged by necessity, nor

indeed received the slightest reward for their skill, is certainly very

surprising.

In traveling up the Missouri during the summer of 1831, we

lost our horses near the Arickara village, which caused our deten-

tion for several days. As this nation has committed more outrages

upon the whites than any other on the Missouri, and seem to

possess all the vices of the savage without a redeeming virtue,

we found ourselves very unpleasantly situated near the principal

village without sufficient force to repel an attack if one should be

made. After some deliberation we adopted the advice of an old

Canadian hunter, and determined to move our chattels directly

into the village, and, whilst we remained, to take up our lodgings

with the tribe. We were emboldened to this step, by the assurance

of the hunter, that the Arickarees had never been known to kill but

one man who had taken refuge within the limits of their town, and

that their forbearance originated in the superstitious belief that

the ghost of the murdered had haunted their encampment, and

had frightened away the buffalo by his nightly screams.

We were received in the village with much more politeness

than we expected; a lodge was appropriated to our use, and provi-

sions were brought to us in abundance. After we were completely

refreshed, a young man came to our lodge and informed us that a

band of bears (as he expressed it) or medicine men, were making

preparations to exhibit their skill, and that if we felt disposed we

could witness the ceremony. We were much gratified at the invita-

tion, as we had all heard marvelous stories of the wonderful feats

performed by the Indian medicine men or jugglers. We accordingly

followed our guide to the medicine lodge, where we found six men

dressed in bear skins, and seated in a circle in the middle of the

apartment. The spectators were standing around, and so arranged

as to give each individual a view of the performance.

They civilly made way for our party, and placed us (so) near the

circle that we had ample opportunity of detecting the imposture,

if any should be practiced. The actors (if I may so call them) were

painted in the most grotesque manner imaginable, blending so

completely the ludicrous and frightful in their appearance that the

spectator might be said to be somewhat undecided whether to laugh

or to shudder. After sitting for some time in a kind of mournful

silence, one of the jugglers desired a youth, who was near him,

to bring some stiff clay from a certain place, which he named, on

the river bank. This we understood from an old Canadian, named

Garrow (well-known on the Missouri), who was present and acted

as our interpreter. The young man soon returned with the clay, and

each of these human bears immediately commenced the process of

molding a number of images exactly resembling buffaloes, men and

horses, bows, arrows, etc. When they had completed nine of each

variety, the miniature buffaloes were all placed together in a line,

and the little clay hunters mounted on their horses, and holding

their bows and arrows in their hands, were stationed about three

feet from them in a parallel line. I must confess that at this part

of the ceremony I felt very much inclined to be merry, especially

when I observed what appeared to me the ludicrous solemnity with

which it was performed. But my ridicule was changed into aston-

ishment, and even into awe, by what speedily followed.

“When the buffaloes and horsemen were properly arranged,

one of the jugglers thus addressed the little clay men.

“My children, I know you are hungry; it has been a long time

since you have been out hunting. Exert yourselves today. Try and

kill as many as you can. Here are white people present who will

laugh at you if you don’t kill. Go! Don’t you see the buffaloes have

already started?”


Conceive, if possible, our amazement, when the speaker’s last

words escaped his lips, at seeing the little images start off at full

speed, followed by the Lilliputian horsemen, who with their bows

of clay and arrows of straw, actually pierced the sides of the flying

buffaloes at the distance of three feet. Several of the little animals

soon fell, apparently dead; but two of them ran around the circum-

ference of the circle (a distance of fifteen or twenty feet), and before

they finally fell, one had three and the other five arrows transfixed

in his side. When the buffaloes were all dead, the man who first

addressed [the] hunters spoke to them again, and ordered them to

ride into the fire, (a small one having been previously kindled in

the centre of the apartment) and on receiving this cruel order, the

gallant horsemen, without exhibiting the least symptoms of fear or

reluctance, rode forward at a brisk trot until they reached the fire.

The horses here stopped and drew back, when the Indian cried in

an angry tone, “Why don’t you ride in?” The riders now commenced

beating their horses with their bows, and soon succeeded in urging

them into the flames, where horses and riders both tumbled down,

and for a time lay baking on the coals. The medicine man gathered

up the dead buffaloes and laid them also on the fire, and when all

were completely dried they were taken out and pounded into dust.

After a long speech from one of the party the dust was carried to

the top of the lodge and scattered to the winds.

I paid the strictest attention during the whole ceremony, in

order to discover, if possible, the mode by which this extraordinary

deception was practiced; but all my vigilance was of no avail. The

jugglers themselves sat motionless during the performance, and

the nearest was not within six feet. I failed altogether to detect

the mysterious agency by which inanimate images of clay were, to

all appearances, suddenly endowed with the action, energy, and

feeling of living beings.188

There can be little doubt that power feats, along with public power

displays, were to be found in every Indian nation in North America

throughout time, or at least whenever and wherever shamans were

present. More importantly, they clearly indicate the immense flexibility

when it comes to interactions between consciousness and matter. The

possibilities seem endless. These spectacular displays required extensive

training and preparations, particularly in the ability of the performers to

focus their consciousness to a singular point of intent. Throughout the

performances, the focus and intensity of consciousness is at maximum,

demanding a great deal of effort by the shamans. These are not merely

tricks or slight-of-hand as we have been taught to believe. They are exactly

what they appear to be—beyond belief.


Chapter 9

Breaking the Superstition Barrier

Power is obtained from all the different animals

and birds, from the coyote, cattle, horse, and other

things. They all have songs and they all have

ceremonies...They use to say that power talked to

them all the time, but you don’t hear that so much

now. Wolf power makes you strong. Bear power

makes you strong too. Some got power from the

sun and moon also. When you get it from these you

can see all over the world, they say. These shine on

everything in the world; that’s why

— Chiricahua Apache talking to Morris Opler1

The Sacred Rule of Science

The primary goal of this book has been to explain why there is more

evidence to assume American Indian medicine powers are real than to

assume they are not real. The fact that consciousness and matter are

interrelated calls into question the current assumption held by most people

that such powers are merely the result of superstition. Furthermore, there

is no doubt that medicine powers formerly played a central role in the lives

of all American Indian cultures. Given the time and effort they devoted to

their medicine powers also calls into question the notion that such powers

are simply the result of superstition among very pragmatic people.

Even without the revelation brought about by the experiments on Bell’s

Theorem, scientists, especially the social scientists, should have seen

through the “superstition” explanation. I say this because when it comes

to choosing between alternate explanations for any phenomenon, there is

a general rule among scientists for determining which explanation is best,

and most scientists are keenly aware of this rule. It is known as Occam’s

(or less frequently as Ockham’s) Razor. First devised by William of Occam

(1284-1347), an English philosopher and theologian, it is his attempt to

apply Aristotle’s principle, that entities must not be multiplied beyond what

is necessary, to the process of scientific inquiry. Originally recorded in

Latin, this principle states in essence that when science is faced with

two or more hypothetical explanations for any phenomenon, the simplest

explanation is most likely the correct one. Not too surprisingly, this indeed

has usually been the case. A good example is Maxwell’s discovery of the

relationship between electricity and magnetism. Maxwell’s equations were

the first major breakthrough in physics since Newton, and Maxwell was

convinced he was right simply because of the “simplicity and symmetry”

of his mathematics. Subsequently, Einstein discovered the simple rela-

tionship between energy and matter—E=Mc2.

I like to call Occam’s Razor the “sacred rule of science.” When it is

applied to our two assumptions (hypotheses), assuming medicine powers

to be real is the more simple explanation, while the reverse involves

numerous difficulties. To relegate such powers merely to superstition does

not explain the core similarities found among shamans worldwide, it does

not explain the many “miracles” observed by crowds of people, it fails to

give any explanation for the actions of ceremonial participants, it fails to

account for why medicine people who were converted to Christianity still

believed in the reality of medicine powers, and the list goes on. However,

if we assume they are real, one can begin to see medicine powers in terms

of an interrelationship between human consciousness and matter. This

view gives rise to explanations for their acts of purification, prayer offer-

ings, prayer repetition, avoidance of doubters, secrecy and a host of other

activities that have long gone unexplained. Consequently, the only reason

to assume medicine powers are based in superstition is to preserve the

illusion that we exist in a solid reality as opposed to a fluid reality. My view

is there is simply no valid reason to assume they are not real.

Explanations for ceremonial activities do not explain the mechanics

of medicine powers, only why participants do what they do. Quantum

mechanics is less than a century old and still contains many mysteries.

Most lacking is an adequate vocabulary for dealing with them. Also lacking

is a consciousness meter. As quantum mechanics develops perhaps the

day will come that a scientific proof for the reality of medicine powers is

discovered. In the meantime, we best assume them to be real.


A New Look at Becoming Human

The implications of the interconnection between consciousness and

matter contain many implications beyond that of medicine powers. One

such example is human evolution. It is already well-known that human

beings are exceptional creatures within the highest order of the animal

kingdom, the mammals. Some of our most noteworthy specialties include

an opposable thumb, an upright gait, and an unusually large brain to

body ratio. With the movement of our eyes to the front of the skull over

a long evolutionary period, we developed depth perception along with

color vision, and coupled with a two-legged gait our hunting skills and

mobility increased. Also the evolutionary development of our opposable

thumb along with brain expansion landed us tool-making several million

years ago. Over the next two million years our brain kept getting larger.

By upwards of 300,000 years ago we begin to see in Africa new tools

being invented, evidence of trade, and other indications of an advanced

consciousness.

It is this extraordinary expansion of our brain that caused Pierre

Teilhard de Cardin to rethink the evolutionary process during the 1930’s.

Chardin was a French paleontologist/anthropologist who was also a Jesuit

priest. Because of his priesthood, everything he wrote was reviewed by

his superiors before it could be submitted for publication. Consequently,

he was forced to walk a thin line between science and Catholic theology.

Chardin became involved in research on human evolution due to his exca-

vations of early human fossil fragments in China, commonly known as

“Peking Man.”2 His research was conducted at the same time Einstein

and Bohr were arguing—Einstein for a material reality and Bohr for a

non-material reality in which consciousness played a role. When thinking

about the evolutionary development of humans, no doubt Chardin was

attempting to reconcile that process with his own theological views, and

Darwin’s natural-selection explanation posed a problem. If change over

time came about due to natural selection, then the evolutionary process

must be random.

Chardin didn’t see evolution as a random process. What he saw was a

slow increase in the complexity of things over time that, for him, consti-

tuted a direction to evolution.3 This is exactly what the fossil records indi-

cated. The later the geological level, the more complex are the fossils found

there. In addition, the more complex an organism became, the smarter it

was. Here Chardin, like Bohr, assumed consciousness to be an actual form

of energy. From his point of view, the complexity of organization found in

anything is directly related to the amount of consciousness present in it.

Furthermore, only when consciousness reaches a certain point of density

do we notice it. Consciousness in rocks is difficult to observe, while in the

more complex animal kingdom it is easier to observe. From such observa-

tions he concluded that evolution has a direction, and it is an increase

in consciousness/complexity over time that has been the major cause

of change, not natural selection. He also concluded that humans, with

their extra large brains, constituted an entirely new level of organizational

development in nature. Humans operate on a totally different level than

all other creatures. I would have to say this seems to be the case if for no

other reason than we are the merriest of creatures, none of which dances

and sings as much as we do. More importantly, only humans seem to have

the ability to access the SSC. “It is the two-legged men alone who...may

become one with—or may know—Wankan Tanka.”

For Chardin humans are an extraordinary leap in nature that brought

forth an envelope of consciousness, a layer of consciousness that now

surrounds the earth, which he called the noosphere.4 Here again Chardin

was onto something, but he lacked the vocabulary of quantum mechanics

to explain it. More recently Walker has put forth the current understanding

that all [human] observers share a fragment of their mind expe-

rience, nonlocally and nontemporally, is forced on us by the

physics…We see that although it works by means of state vector

collapse on observation, the minds are linked by this observation

process. Whereas our control might have appeared to be a kind

of shadow hand in which we control quantum mechanical states

directly, here a part of our reality is the fact that about 1/10 of 1%

of what we are in our mind’s being is shared; it is identically the

same as the mind-being of all others who exist. This is an incred-

ible realization.5

Most scientists shrugged off Chardin’s views as absurd. Theodosius

Dobzhansky, a leading geneticist and evolutionary biologist of the times,

once met with Chardin. He came away feeling that Chardin was “hope-

lessly confused.” However, in 1977 Ilya Prigogine received the Nobel Prize


for his discovery of a “self-organizing principle” in nature. Prigogine and

his Belgium colleagues were taking a close look at randomness in chem-

ical systems. This is a novel notion in itself that led to the discovery of an

ordering process to chaos that gives rise to more complex structures.6

Around the same time Manfred Eigen also found this self-organization

principle operating in the synthesis of complex proteins and nucleic

acids.7 Here was evidence that a self-organization principle operated in

more than one system found in nature. Had Dobzhansky been aware of

this principle in nature, most likely he would not have seen Chardin as

being all that confused.

It is understood that all the different fields of science (physics, chem-

istry, botany, entomology, etc.) are each merely the study of one of the

many different systems of organization within nature. Within any field of

study there are numerous processes operating at different levels of orga-

nization within any larger system. The self-organization principle states

that as any of these different processes at any level becomes more chaotic,

there is a very good chance that it will reorganize itself into a slightly

more complex system, thus eliminating the amount of overall randomness

within the system. The question then became to what extent does this

principle operate throughout nature?

By the mid-1970’s Erich Jantsch began publishing a series of books

that attempted to apply this principle across the board.8 However, when he

attempted to extend it into the realm of social behavior, he generated a lot

of disheartening criticism. Nevertheless, more recently Stuart Kauffman

has published a much more detailed scientific inquiry into the role of self-

organization in the evolutionary process. In his preface he contends:

Natural selection is important, but it has not labored alone to

craft the fine architectures of the biosphere, from cell to organism

to ecosystem. Another source—self-organization—is the root

source of order. The order of the biological world, I have come to

believe, is not merely tinkered, but arises naturally and sponta-

neously because of these principles of self-organization—laws of

complexity that we are just beginning to uncover and understand.9

Have complex forms developed not so much on the winds of natural

selections as on the innate ability of nature to organize life into more

complex structures? This certainly appears to be the case. This is not to

say that natural selection plays no role in causing evolutionary changes,

but rather, as Stephen Gould, a staunch Darwinist, admitted, its rela-

tive strength is now in question.10 Like medicine powers and quantum

mechanics it appears the evolutionary process is also deeply interrelated

to consciousness, in this case its development over time on this Earth.

It seems very probable to me that natural selection will be reduced

to a minor force in the evolutionary process at some point in the future.

Ingrained concepts like natural selection do not die easily, so it will take

years before our high school textbooks are revised. Natural selection rests

on the notion of “survival of the fittest” that produces organisms over

time that are better adapted to their environment. Consequently, natural

selection does not account for the development of more complex forms over

time. More importantly, because a rise in complexity includes a simulta-

neous rise in consciousness, Chardin was on the right track.

By at least 50,000 years ago we began to develop language. That led to

abstract thought such that by 30,000 years ago indications of ceremonial

activities begin to appear on a regular basis in the form of burials, cave

paintings, etc. This was the dawn of our most marvelous trait, the ability

to access altered states of consciousness by means of trance-induction.

This was the birth of the art of shamanism, a time when humans began

to realize there was “another world” they could access, another way for

understanding reality. They learned to alter their consciousness in order

to access an underlying, subtler aspect of reality. What they encountered

was a vast realm of knowledge inhabited by spirit helpers who could bring

about instant changes in this world. This possibility existed only because

the laws of the other world are more powerful than the laws of this world—

the laws of quantum mechanics are stronger than the laws of space-time

physics. Altered states also made possible a more subtle communication

with the world around them, with the buffalo, the spider, the acorn tree, the

mountain, etc. It was our super-sized brain that rendered us a sufficient

quantity of consciousness to make all this possible. However, shamanism

has its limitations, namely mass. A shaman can move a bullet out of

a body, but not a mountain across a lake. It is a rather small gift from

the Creator, designed to make our lives more prosperous and secure. As

Wallace Black Elk would say, it is for help and health. With these powers


come hope and peace of mind. This gift comes only on the wings of a great

deal of humility and gratitude on the part of the recipient. Accessing the

spirit world always has been deemed to be a sacred act. Always it is accom-

panied by a great deal of purification and sincere praying. Purification

stops our thinking process, which allows one’s prayers to come from the

heart. A heart-sent prayer is a powerful observation.

Recently it was discovered through DNA analysis that all human

beings on the planet descended from a single group of ancestors in Africa

that contained less than 700 individuals, an amazing fact in itself. Over

time the consciousness of their ancestors increased until it reached a crit-

ical density that pushed their awareness into the transcendental realm.

Chardin saw the emergence of humans as the crowning glory of the evolu-

tionary process. Humans were a miracle of the Creator. In fact, he saw

humans as the final goal of evolution. Put simply, the Creator had created

a being that can directly experience the Creator. I suspect this is what is

meant by the understanding that humans were created in the image of

the Creator, a being capable of having a direct experience of the Creator.

Being Human

Throughout this book I have attempted to make it very clear that as

human beings, the American Indians were very different people. I would

like to review some of the differences I have pointed out throughout

this book. In our scientific view of nature we place humans at the top

of the evolutionary charts. Consequently, like Chardin, we tend to see

ourselves as the supreme organism on the planet. In turn, we see nature

as something to be conquered, something that can be controlled by our

scientific achievements. This is a superior view not held by traditional

American Indians. They see humans as one of the most pitiful creatures

on the planet. So much so we must beg for medicine powers to aid in our

survival. Recall that everyone who sought out power understood it was to

be approached with great humility. On a vision quest you beg that pity be

taken upon you. You beg for a power. You cry for help. You get as humble

as you possibly can. The main “mystery song” sung by the Omaha was

“Creator! Here, poor and needy, I stand.” This single prayer was taught to

children when sent on a fast. “There is only this one prayer in the tribe,

and it is applicable to all solemn experiences and important events in the

life of every one.”11 In this posture of humility nature is not something to

be conquered, rather it is not to be upset, not to be offended. If you have

a hunting power that enables you to locate buffalo, you still must request

permission from each buffalo to take its life and you do give thanks to it

once having done so. You walk in timidity among the great powers that

surround you. In turn, you are forever thankful for any aid received from

these powers.

Across the board their humility and trust made them seem as children

to us. What we failed to understand was their humility is what gave them

the ability to access a transcendental realm of reality. Having the “heart

of a child” they were able to enter the “Kingdom of Heaven.” Once there,

their requests came by way of sincere prayers. All of this entailed a way

of living, a specific way of going through life. In speaking of it one Apache

medicine man said, “it is so old, so ancient, that it is hard to talk about.

It is all over me.”12 So ingrained was their understanding of this way of

life they even had ceremonies to put a person back onto the “Red Road”

should he stray. Furthermore, this way of life was not bound by race. You

didn’t need to be a “red man” to walk the Red Road. You only needed to be

a real human being, real with your talk and real with your walk. Anything

less than that was an indicator you were not yet fully human.

Recall also that we had no idea of the actual power of human will. To

us “will” was a philosophical concept, not a key ingredient in the actions

of quantum mechanics. However, as pointed out (in Chapter 1), human

will is an actual force that plays a role in how reality manifests, not an

abstract concept. In fact, over a century ago Hartly Alexander recognized

that the Indian’s “unseen world,” the world of spirits, was a “world of

wills.”13 The art of shamanism manifests in the application of human will.

Also, it is a repetitive process that most often comes in the form of sincere

prayers, usually sung in contrast to spoken, and repeated over time. There

is a world of difference between the prayers of a shamanic ceremony and

those prayers read from a book. Here again, we failed to understand what

it means to be fully human.

Another aspect of their being human that we failed to recognize was

the importance of continuing to learn about the reality that surrounds

us, both without and within. As one Lakota pointed out, their Sun Dance

lodge serves “only as a temporary device to assist men to realize that there

is a sacred world whose center is everywhere, including inside himself;

and that our whole life is the journey towards it.”14 Indian learning is not


a matter of abstract thought, analytical analysis, or scientific inquiry that

dominates western education. This does not mean they are void of reflective

thought or the formulation of explanations, especially medicine people.15

Their learning is more sensory based, more a matter of their feeling of

things, their intuition. Also their teachings are given orally instead of

through visual readings, which gives rise to a different view. “An oral or

tribal society has the means of stability far beyond anything possible

to a visual or civilized and fragmented world. The oral and auditory are

structured by a total and simultaneous field of relations describable as

‘acoustic space.’ Quite different is the visual world where special goals

and points of view are natural and inevitable.”16 Their understanding is

a process of coming into greater harmony with the surrounding forces of

nature. This type of understanding renders a reality filled with causality,

a reality that is more complete and comprehensible.17 It is a reality replete

with signs and omens that guide one’s way.18 There is no graduation to

this type of learning. Their lives are a continual process of learning such

that as you grow older you actually do become wiser in the ways of life.

This is clearly evidenced by the high esteem given to their elders. In fact, it

is a social taboo to disrespect one’s elder. Given our concept of graduation,

we have the tendency to see anyone who has a Ph.D. as being intelligent.

However, for Wallace Black Elk, “Ph.D.” stood for “phenomenally dumb.”

Most important from my point of view is the quality of life rendered by

following the Red Road. Their way of life produced a different character

to their being. For example, when you compare the early 20th-century

Indian photos of Edward Curtis to photos of whites from the same time

period, there is a striking difference. In the Curtis photos you will see

faces that express alertness, dignity, intensity, and assuredness that is

sorely absent in the photographs of whites. When John Fire Lame Deer

saw his first white man he said it was “like looking into the eyes of a dead

owl.” In fact, in order to avoid the intensity of their character our treaty

negotiators were trained not to directly face an Indian when speaking. Not

surprisingly, the Indians recognized this intensity in themselves and dealt

with it accordingly. Given their emphasis on being humble, they would

usually speak to each other while looking at the ground in order to avoid

direct eye contact. This habit persists to this day among many of the tradi-

tional medicine people. They will not look at you when speaking.

Finally, when it comes to the quality of life, the bottom line is one of

personal satisfaction, fulfillment, peace of mind, or simply happiness, all

expressions of the same basic feeling. In this category they excelled at being

human simply because they were skilled at staying in their heart mode.

In normal times their lives were filled with laughter. The air was filled

with lightheartedness. Joking was an aspect of every serious ceremony or

undertaking. Smiling faces were common. Worries and complaints were

not dwelt on. Children were not inhibited. Compassion abounded. Sharing

was the norm. Giving outstripped taking. Basically speaking, everyone

was having a very good time. Let me give a few testimonials by whites who

spent much time among them, that emphasize this fact: “I don’t believe

I ever heard a real hearty laugh away from the Indian’s fireside. I have

often spent an entire evening in laughing with them until I could laugh no

more.”19 “The Indians are habitually and universally the happiest people I

ever saw.”20 “They are really a merry people, good-natured, jocular, usually

ready to laugh at an amusing incident or a joke, with a simple mirth that

reminds one of children.”21

Throughout this book I have often spoken of this child-like behavior

among Indian adults. This is not to be seen as a defect. As Aldous Huxley

once pointed out, “A childlike man is not a man whose development has

been arrested; on the contrary, he is a man who has given himself a

chance of continuing to develop long after most adults have muffled them-

selves in the cocoon of middle-aged habits and conventions.” The histor-

ical records are filled with accounts of their childish behavior and I would

like to give one final example of it. On a spring day in 1603 Captain Martin

Pring anchored his ship in Cape Cod Bay for the purpose of gathering

sassafras, the ground root of which was in great demand in France by

doctors who prescribed it for many illnesses. Within a couple of days over

one hundred Wampanaogs came to scrutinize their strange new visitors

from a distance, and eventually decided the intruders meant no harm.

Watching the whites from a distance soon became a favorite form of enter-

tainment for them. Finally they came closer.

During this visit of Pring the Indians were entertained by

a gittern—an instrument similar to our guitar. A young boy in

Pring’s crew was adept in playing “homely music,” and greatly

delighted the Indians, who gave him tobacco, pipes, fawn skins


and a six-foot snakeskin to encourage his playing. Often there

would be twenty natives gathered around the guitar-playing youth,

dancing and calling out “Jo, Ja, Jo, Ja, Ja.” The first brave to drop

from exhaustion would be pummeled by the rest.22

Beware the Experts

There are two types of “experts” on the American Indians that need to

be approached with caution, one being the academic researchers who don’t

believe in the reality of medicine powers and the other being American

Indians who are acculturated. I will begin with academia.

It is difficult for me to imagine an anthropologist spending time among

Indian medicine people who has not touched upon the mystery of their

powers in some way.23 Because they did not believe in their powers, such

encounters tended to be a bit unnerving. I have recounted numerous such

examples in the course of this book. I would like to give one final example

that happened to anthropologist M. R. Harrington. During his fieldwork

near Pawhuska, Oklahoma, he had the opportunity to purchase an Osage

war medicine bundle. The keeper of the bundle did not know its contents,

and told Harrington that the only person in their nation authorized to

open this bundle was “old man Áh-hu-shin-ke.” Harrington purchased

the bundle. Then three days later he went to open the bundle for the first

time.

In the middle of the afternoon I suddenly decided to open the

bundle, so laid it on a blanket spread on the floor [in his Pawhuska

apartment]. Then I locked the door and pulled down the shades.

I had just started to loosen the ties when somebody tried the

door!

Hurriedly I rolled up the whole business and stuck it under the

bed; then I opened the door. There stood old Áh-hu-shin-ke, “the

only man in the tribe who has the right to open this bundle.” His

home was miles away. How did he know?

We looked at each other a minute; then he said: “I want drink

water. You got it?”

Drawing a long breath, I found him a glass and pointed out the

sink. He drank, looked around, and departed.

It was several days before I gathered courage to try again.24

It stands to reason that if you don’t believe in medicine powers, then

it becomes a subject that is treated in ways that can create more confu-

sion than understanding. Already I have mentioned that it is not possible

to obtain grant funds to study the efficacy of Indian medicine powers

simply because they are seen as being fake. When seen as fake, one tends

to get studies that are mainly limited to giving detailed descriptions of

power ceremonies. This is especially true of the older ethnographic reports

before the onset of sound and film recordings. When physical descriptions

form your data, the tendency is to create categories such as “ceremonial

complexes,” then compare these descriptions seeking out the oldest cere-

monies, the cultural-transmission routes of ceremonies over time, etc.25

The problem with this methodology is that it usually entails erroneous

assumptions. For example, it is an assumption that power ceremonies

are acquired more often through cultural-exchange than from personal

vision quests or dreams. It is also an assumption that similarities between

ceremonies, such as binding of the shaman, is any indicator of cultural

contact. Both the Ojibwa shaking-tent ceremonies and the Lakota yuwipi

ceremonies involve binding up the shaman at the onset, the coming and

going of spirits, the freeing of the shaman from his bindings by the spirits,

etc. These shared characteristics became the foundation for their “Spirit

Lodge ceremonial complex” that anthropolgists created.26 The result of

this fabrication caused experts to conclude that the Lakota yuwipi cere-

mony is a relatively recent ceremony that is a derivative of the shaking-

tent ceremony. However, if you question the Chips family, they can give a

detailed account of how Horn Chips acquired the yuwipi ceremony during

a four-day vision quest. A similar example is the Arapaho’s Crow Dance.

Kroeber claimed the Arapaho acquired the ceremony from the Sioux,

but a later account reports the ceremony came from a vision that came

to Yellow Calf.27 Kroeber’s research methodology was designed to trace

the dispersion of ceremonies over time in North America. He assumed

that power ceremonies were merely products that were bought, sold, and

traded between different Indian nations through time. Then each nation

simply added its own cultural touches to the ceremony. This was a wide-

spread view. For example, speaking of the shamans of the southern Yukon

area, another anthropologist concluded the shaman “has borrowed just


enough of the trappings of the church to appear, in the eyes of converts to

Christianity, allied to that institution.”28 Completely ignored in this meth-

odology is the understanding that for every power ceremony passed on, the

recipient must be accepted by the spirits associated with that power. Also

ignored is the fact that their ceremonial “trappings” are dictated by the

spirits. Any arbitrary change made by the shaman results in the failure of

the ceremony. Consequently, research that discounts spirits simply leads

to more confusion than understanding.

Experts also have a great deal of difficulty dealing with the Indian’s

concept of “life.” For Indians, “life is not a thing, a philosophical entity; it

is an attitude of mind toward what is being observed.”29 No doubt, tradi-

tional Indians have a very different attitude of mind toward life. “Life”

is not limited to things that move or grow. For example, anthropologist

Irving Hallowell once asked an old Ojibwa man, “Are all the stones we see

about us here alive?” Typically, the old man reflected a long time before

answering and eventually replied, “No, but some are.”

Another problem is the concept of power. Many experts declare

Indians believe in an all-pervading power in the universe. Recall that

missionaries were particularly apt to make this conclusion since their

conversions depended on such an assumption. However, we know that

each power is associated with a specific spirit or spirits. Anthropologist

Paul Radin refuted this view early on when he wrote, “There is nothing to

justify the postulation of a belief in a universal force in North America.

Magical power as an ‘essence’ existing apart and separate from a definite

spirit, is, we believe, an unjustified assumption, an abstraction created by

investigators.”30

The dangers of power are also not taken into consideration since all

spirit power is seen as imaginary. Power normally comes with personal

restrictions to one’s life such as avoidance of certain foods, required

actions, etc. These rules (“taboos” in the literature) must be followed,

otherwise harm comes to the shaman or his relatives. Generally speaking,

the more the power the greater the danger. For instance, Wallace Black

Elk used to speak of the Lakota having sixteen levels of power. The final

level was the medicine power to cure any disease. Each level was obtained

through vision questing. On the final vision quest for the sixteenth power

one of two things would happen—either you would get the power or you

would die trying. In addition, children normally were not allowed around

power ceremonies.

As mentioned at the onset, so ignored are their medicine powers that

no one has ever developed a classification system for them. You will find

attempts at classifying shamans, their sacred objects, or their ceremo-

nies, but not their medicine powers. This lack of focus on medicine powers

has caused at least two major oversights. First, it caused us to continue

the use of the term “religion” when describing their sacred activities. We

keep trying to fit their actions into our boxed-thought “religion” when

there is really no “religion” present. This view assumes their religion is

separate from their lives, which it is not. What gets put into this box is

nothing more than descriptive accounts of different ceremonies, their

shamans, and their sacred objects. In so doing their “religion” is nothing

more than a series of descriptions of what ceremonies were on hand at

the time the ethnographer made his visit. Their “religion” is not a form of

worship. It is not a formalized body of theology that is repeated and modi-

fied through time as found in the organized religions of the world. Instead,

at any point in time there is simply a conglomeration of different medicine

powers flowing in and out of the culture. What works stays and what no

longer work goes. It is true that some sacred ceremonies may endure for

several hundred years, but even those can undergo changes over time due

to instructions from their spirits. It is a dynamic process that can change

daily, this power now gone, this power now acquired, this ceremony now

altered. Every successful vision quest brings about change. As Young

Bear put it, “The Great Spirit teaches those that are earnest. Many of our

ceremonies have their beginning through those who fast. That is why, to

this day, we are able to have all the ceremonies and receive the reward of

the fuller life from the Great Spirit.”31 This is a way of living one’s life, a

way of being that has nothing to do with our notion of “religion.” As the

Navajo say, their religion is more a matter of “walking in Beauty.”

A second major oversight is the failure to recognize the funda-

mental role medicine powers played in determining Indian behavior.

Anthropologist Hallowell did note it among the Ojibwa when he wrote,

“The primary psychological fact to be emphasized is that their world view

engenders an attitude of dependence upon persons of the other than

human class [spirits].”32 By “primary” he is pointing out it is the most

important psychological factor in determining their behavior. As we have

seen, sacred actions are incorporated into nearly everything they do, be it

a simple prayer, the use of an amulet or an offering for any small under-

taking. Such actions were designed to keep one’s powers active. Nothing


was given more attention than medicine powers. Nothing took up more

time and effort than their sacred ceremonies. Nothing loomed larger in

their being than the pursuit and maintenance of power. In a word, medi-

cine powers formed the very heart and core of every American Indian

culture. It is a tragedy this fact goes unrealized for the most part.

Medicine powers seen as real also opens up many new possibilties

for better understanding shamans and their actions. For example, how

does the environment influence the acquisition of medicine powers? I

have previously mentioned you can expect to find: more flying shamans

in the Arctic Area whose inhabitants cover more distance per year than

any other Indian nation; more rain-calling ceremonies for crops in the

arid Southwest Area; and more hurricane medicines in Florida. Time also

influences what medicine powers would be sought. For example, expect

the highest concentration of powers to acquire fine hides to have peaked

during the fur-trading era. Little has been done to explore these types of

possible relationships.

There are many other problems that arise with the assumption that

medicine powers are not real. Research efforts become reduced to never-

ending debates concerning classification and taxonomy—how do we orga-

nize and name things that have something to do with shamanism. The work

of anthropologist Professor Alice Kehoe is a classic example. Her research

on shamanism initially focused on pointing out the relationships between

“Indian religions” and the social organization/functions in any society.

In a 1963 museum pamphlet on the religious beliefs of Saskatchewan

Indians, she contends that shamans function by “suggesting where lost

objects would be found,” and “performing conjuring tricks.” She then goes

on to compare shamans to “evangelical faith healers.” This leads her to the

dubious conclusion that “rituals performed by shamans for curing” are

among the “simpler rituals.”33 Just the opposite is true. Healing rituals

are among the most complex ceremonies and can last upwards of ten

days. In fact, during any healing period more time is spent each day in

preparing for the ceremony than it takes to perform it. Her conclusion is

a clear indication to me that Kehoe never attended a traditional Indian

healing ceremony. This type of research is known as “armchair anthro-

pology,” where the author is void of any actual field experience.

In 1981 she published a general textbook entitled North American

Indians: A Comprehensive Account. Despite the fact that her text is inter-

spersed with photos of Hopi kachinas, a Menomini doctor, the Paiute

prophet Wovoka, etc., there is nothing in the entire book that speaks to

medicine powers. Words like ceremonies, shaman, conjuror, medicine

man, medicine powers, and even religion are not to be found in her index.

This textbook is anything but a “comprehensive account.”

By 1990 Kehoe considered herself an expert on shamanism and

published a short article on “plastic medicine men.” However, as I have

clearly pointed out, fake medicine men were non-existent in Indian

cultures, or at best short-lived. The fake ones managed to operate only

among the whites. It also seems rather amusing to me that an anthro-

pologist who does not believe in medicine powers in the first place would

make an attempt to sort out fake shamans from real ones. Into this arbi-

trary category she includes any whites and Indians who make “comfort-

able livings” from “spiritual exercises.”34 Overlooked is the fact the early

ethnographies make it abundantly clear that shamans were well paid

for their services and were often among the wealthiest people. I expect

her view is based on the unfounded, popular adage that, “Real shamans

do not charge for their ceremonies.” Nothing could be further from the

truth. The success of a healing depends on the sincerity of the patient’s

belief in the ceremony. The more you pay, the more sincere you are likely

to be. For example, anthropologist Dorothy Lee noted in 1959 that in our

culture a free gift given to a person, although more valuable, was actually

held in less esteem by the recipient than a less expensive item that person

had paid for.35 Payments are just one of several techniques used to instill

belief and sincerity into the patient prior to ceremony. For serious healings

the fee was often so high that relatives had to be called upon to assist in

the payment. It is also well documented that shamans would often redis-

tribute the goods received to the needy, simply because hoarding goods

and being stingy were trans-cultural Indian social taboos.36 Sharing

was an important survival technique. In reality, these payments were a

win-win situation for everyone.

Unfortunately Kehoe included Wallace Black Elk and Sun Bear among

her “plastic medicine men.” That same year I published Black Elk: The

Sacred Ways of a Lakota, which clearly documented Black Elk’s extensive

medicine power abilities. There was nothing “plastic” about him. As for

Sun Bear, whom I personally knew, he never claimed to be a medicine

man in the first place. As for a comfortable living, Wallace lived in dilapi-

dated, $20,000 house in Denver that most people would refuse to live

in. Sun Bear, on the other hand, received only a small monthly stipend


of several hundred dollars from his organization for personal needs. He

never owned a home. All of this again points to “armchair anthropology”

by Kehoe.

In 2000 Kehoe published Shamans and Religion: An Anthropological

Exploration in Critical Thinking. That work resulted in her worst criticism.

Basically it was a diatribe on taxonomy, arguing that we shouldn’t use the

word “shaman” when talking about American Indian, African, etc. medi-

cine people. The word “shaman” is currently used for medicine people in

all cultures, but that displeased Kehoe. More importantly the text revealed

that she knew very little about shamanism. For instance, she gives us two

“scientific explanations” for successful healing ceremonies: “the placebo

effect, involving hormonal changes induced by emotions, and the fact that

many diseases simply heal given enough time.”37 I assume her “placebo

effect” explanation applies to the ceremonies I attended in which Godfrey

Chips took a patient from being HIV+ to HIV-. Western physicians would

classify this as “spontaneous remission.” In both cases we have nothing

more than a meaningless “boxed-thought” that serves as an explanation.

They both mean, “I really don’t know.” For an in-depth critique of this

book see the Appendix. Written by Timothy White, editor of Shaman’s

Drum magazine and an authentic expert on shamanism, he begins by

declaring “the book offers a spurious mix of adversarial scholarship and

vituperative propaganda.”38

The last problem with academia I wish to touch upon has nothing to

do with a belief in medicine powers. It is simply the transmission of errors.

For example, I mentioned (in Chapter 5) there is much confusion in the

literature between Old Man Chips and Horn Chips. On the government

census Godfrey’s great-grandfather was known as Woptura (also spelled

Woptuha or Woptuh’a—pronounced Wope-two-kha). As Godfrey explained,

“When you shoot a piece of wood, all those little pieces flying off of it are

called woptura.” In the late 1800’s the government gave everyone on the

reservation an English last name. When the translator heard his name

was Woptura, he translated it as “Chips.” Subsequently he was known

among the Lakota as Old Man Chips. According to Godfrey, Woptura was

born with four powers already in hand. The Lakota say he was “born holy,”

meaning he did not have to acquire his powers through vision questing.

There are other reports of shamans being born with full knowledge of a

power ceremony.39

Woptura performed his first ceremony when he was still a child, around

five to six years old. He worked with four stones, colored black, red, yellow,

and white —the Lakota colors associated with the four cardinal directions.

At age eight both of his parents died and he went to live with Crazy Horse’s

uncle. Soon thereafter, Crazy Horse, around the age of eleven, came to

live with them as well. This uncle performed a ceremony to make them

adopted brothers and they remained close friends throughout their lives.

When they became warriors, Woptura passed his bullet-proof medicine

over to Crazy Horse, but continued to use his other three powers. Included

was his ability to flatten a mole hill at will without touching it. At one point

their warriors ran out of bullets during a battle and called on Woptura for

assistance. He went out onto the prairie and flattened a mole hill with his

power. Then he made a hole in the center of it with an eagle feather, and

placed a bullet into the hole. As he sang his power songs, bullets started

popping out of the hole until there was a huge pile of them. The warriors

picked them up and continued their fight.

One of Woptura’s sons is listed on the 1896 government census as Pthe

Woptura, translated as Horn Chips. Later on the government assigned

every Indian an English first name as well, and Horn Chips was eventu-

ally changed to Charles Chips on the census. Then his son, Ellis, was

mistakenly enrolled on the reservation rolls, during a switch from the

Rosebud to the Pine Ridge Reservation, as Ellis Chipps. He went by that

spelling the remainder of his life, even though his government census

roll name appeared as Ellis Chips. Consequently, Ellis appears as Ellis

Horn Chips, Ellis Chips, and Ellis Chipps depending on which account

you read. On his tombstone his name appears as Ellis M. Chipps, where

the “M.” stand for Martin. Charles had an older brother named James,

Woptura’s other son. To make matters even more confusing, James’ last

name was changed to Moves Camp.

Most contemporary publications on Crazy Horse consistently refer to

his protection medicine as having come from Horn Chips. The origin of

this error seems to have arisen with anthropologist Dr. William Powers, a

well-qualified expert on the Lakota. In his Yuwipi title he refers to Crazy

Horse’s mentor as Horn Chips, and makes reference to Steinmetz for the

genealogy. However, the Steinmetz genealogy gives the lineage as Old Man

Chips (1836-1916) > Charles Chips (1873-1946) > Ellis Chips > Godfrey

Chips, and makes no mention of a Horn Chips.40 Powers states, “Horn

Chips, also known as Tahunska (His Leggings), was born in 1836 and died


in 1916.”41 Obviously Powers mistook Charles Chips, also known as Horn

Chips, for Old Man Chips. In addition, Tahunska was another name for

James Moves Camp, not his brother, Charles Chips, according to Godfrey.

Subsequently, DeMallie repeated the error referencing Powers, Steinmetz,

and adding Sandoz (1942—who also makes no mention of a Horn Chips).42

Given two Lakota experts started calling Crazy Horses’ medicine man

Horn Chips, all subsequent publications followed suit. When the University

of Oklahoma Press first published Kingsley Bray’s innovative work on

Crazy Horse, he also used the name Horn Chips. I notified the Director of

the press of this mistake, but I don’t believe it was ever corrected in their

paperback edition. I suspect we are now stuck with this error.

Neither Charles Chips nor James Moves Camp received power from

their father. Again, according to Godfrey, Old Man Chips did conduct a

ceremony to pass his power on to Charles. During the ceremony the spirits

pointed out a man and a woman in the audience to Charles, and told him

to announce to everyone that they were having an affair, because they

were each married to someone else. Charles was too embarrassed to do

so and the ceremony failed. So Charles was left to get medicine power on

his own. Subsequently, he vision quested on Eagle Nest Butte in a small

lodge, assisted by his brother James and others. One aspect of preparing

for a Lakota vision quest is to make a string of tobacco ties that are used

to enclose one’s vision quest space. Once placed on the ground, no one is

to step over them. The only way to enter that space is to pick up one end

of the string and pull it back to make a “gate” to pass through. Charles

was so intent on succeeding that he made strings of tobacco ties that were

rolled into three huge balls. When they were laid out on the ground, his

string completely encircled the butte. He wanted no one to set foot on the

butte during his vision quest. It is over two miles around the top of that

butte!

While on the butte his supporters received a message from the spirits

that he had died. Some of them wanted to go immediately to retrieve his

body, but others insisted that he remain there for the full four days of

the vision quest, which they did. They were full of fear when they went to

pick him up. Given the length of his string of tobacco ties they couldn’t

find the end, so they cut the string in order to make a gate. When they

approached the lodge, they called out his name. Much to their joy and

relief he answered with a “Hau!” He had received the yuwipi ceremony,

which he immediately performed over the following four nights.

The point here is that even experts tend to make mistakes that become

perpetuated. It reminds me of the time I once met a man with a photo-

graphic memory. He could read twenty-seven different languages and had

read many of the early original texts on the history of science. He rewrote

the history taking out all the perpetuated translation errors and mistakes,

but he could not find a publisher. They all told him it would change the

textbooks too much.

The other experts to be cautious of are the American Indians them-

selves. Part of the problem stems from our inability to discern between

traditional American Indians and those who have adopted a western

worldview. This lumping American Indians all together is merely a cultural

habit. One of the most simple and useful ways to make this distinction

is to inquire of anyone if their Indian language was their first language

when growing up. If so, there is a good chance that person was raised in

a traditional environment.

Among traditional Indians one also needs to discern between elders

and medicine men or women. Elders are the wisdom keepers, but being an

elder these days is not synonymous with having medicine power. I would

be more trusting of information coming from a young ceremonial assistant

rather than a ceremonial participant who is an elder. Naturally, the best

sources are the medicine people themselves. Godfrey Chips once declared

to me that any Indian who does not have power is a “know-nothing” when

it comes to speaking about their powers. However, there is a problem with

medicine people. Recall they are not really interested in talking to anyone

who does not believe in their powers. Furthermore, they remain secretive

about their powers. Add to this their scarcity today and you will rarely find

them speaking in public about medicine powers. Wallace Black Elk was

a major exception to this rule. He saw himself as a scout. He would seek

out locations where people of any race were open to learning about Indian

sacred ways, where he could establish a sweat lodge, where he could start

a Sun Dance, or where he could spread a little “health and help.”

Also recall that medicine people consistently claim to have the hardest

time from their own people, another reason for not trusting any Indian.

I have personally witnessed this happening among the Lakota on the

Pine Ridge Reservation. Charles Chips, Godfrey’s older brother, has led

an annual Sun Dance ceremony on their land for many years. He was

recently held in the Pine Ridge jail for a year without bail and without

any charges ever being filed. More recently Godfrey was victim of a fake


reservation police report filed on him, dated on a day he was not even on

the reservation. Their father, Ellis Chips, applied every year for govern-

ment housing throughout his life, but was never allotted one. Wallace

Black Elk was a paratrooper in World War II. When he returned to the

reservation he was committed to a mental institution for talking openly

about spirits and given shock treatments. Many people do not realize that

most reservations operate as a sovereign nation. They have their own set

of laws and rules. Unfortunately, this has often resulted in very abusive

treatment of medicine people by their own people.

This has not always been the case. For example, following World War

II, the Navajos began to revive their ceremonies.43 By 1978 the Navajo

Nation founded a “Medicine Men’s Association” to train new ceremonialists

(i.e., singers).44 However, the organization was not long lasting. Stipends

were given out to each student until it was realized that the Director was

handing out most of the funds to his relatives, many of whom had little

interest in ever becoming a medicine person.

No doubt the old tensions between the “progressives” and the “tradi-

tionalists” still exists to some extent. Generally speaking shamans have

always been regarded with a healthy fear for the simple reason they

can use their powers to bring harm if they so desire. Consequently, the

progressives tend to disassociate themselves from medicine people and

their activities. Those who believe in their powers are suspicious, and

those who don’t are condescending. The general attitude is they are best

avoided. For example, in 2002 I helped organize a November conference

in Washington that was called “Indigenous Healing Traditions of the

Americas.” Because the sweat-lodge ceremony is found throughout the

Americas I asked then Founding Director Richard West, Jr. of the National

Museum of the American Indians if we could conduct a sweat lodge cere-

mony on their grounds for any medicine person that wanted to attend.

I received his permission and was referred to the staff of their Cultural

Resources Center in Suitland, Maryland, for assistance. There I ran into

a brick wall. The staff member I was to work with was extremely difficult

to get in contact with. When I did speak with him, he showed no interest

in having a sweat lodge on their grounds. Consequently, arrangements

simply dragged on. Finally, a few weeks before the conference, I got an

email from him that he was off to Alaska to do some museum work and

another staff member would take his place. That staff member simply

never responded to repeated requests for making arrangements. It was

a passive-aggressive ploy from the onset that resulted in no lodge being

built. I had assumed the museum staff would be supportive of Indian

medicine people in this regard, but that was certainly not the case.

It is a sad state of affairs to me that so few American Indians in this

day and age really champion their medicine people. This means that one

needs to be very cautious when discussing medicine powers with simply

any American Indian. Most of them have had no experience of their tradi-

tional sacred ceremonies, and this leads to distorted views of what they

are really all about.

Medicine People Today

There is little doubt in my mind that the loss of Indian medicine

traditions has been as culturally devastating as was their loss of land.

Nevertheless, those traditions have been extremely resilient. Helping

spirits provide medicine people with the fortitude to resist extermination

by delivering successful results. That is why medicine people are still

around today, despite four centuries of efforts to wipe them out. This alone

speaks to the reality of their powers. It is true that medicine people are

now quite scarce and often hard to find on a reservation given that most

people prefer not to talk about them. Nevertheless, they are still sought

out by their own people and they continue to pass on their medicine tradi-

tions with success. Today there are more sweat lodge ceremonies and Sun

Dances being performed than could be found during the 1950’s.

Most of the late 19th century anthropologists predicted their medicine

traditions would be extinct by now. They failed to understand the convic-

tion of their belief in medicine powers. To the anthropologists they were

only superstitious beliefs that would disappear with time. It was assumed

they would all, sooner or later, be swayed by the conveniences of modern

civilization. Even today most people would question why they wouldn’t

want to have running water, electricity, and a sewage disposal system in

their homes. That type of questioning comes from someone who has never

walked the Red Road. The human condition is such that the quality of

life is not measured by how convenient it is, but rather by how fulfilling it

is. Given a sacred center within, we are DNA-programmed to seek satis-

faction, peace of mind, fulfillment, and other such qualities of life. The

truth is medicine people, despite all their difficulties, persevere simply


because it renders them a more satisfied life than if they adopted our way

of living. Two years after taking up residence among the Zuni, Cushing

wrote in a letter, “My living is simply horrible, unmentionable,” and then

went on to relate how his life was full of hardships.45 He was talking about

living with no toilet, running water, electricity, in poor health, etc. All the

conveniences he had become accustomed to were now gone. So why did he

voluntarily remain there for yet another two and a half years under such

terrible conditions? I believe it is because, in the same letter, he sums up

his present life as one of “a peace of mind unapproached in all my previous

experiences,” living among “about the merriest race I have ever known.”

A nearby Pueblo man expressed the same feeling about their way of life.

“It has so much peace—you forget about all the problems out in the world

when you go to a dance. You get so much peace just by watching…Most of

the songs are a prayer, especially in the ceremonial dances. In the ceremo-

nial dances it is always a prayer. It is very beautiful.”46

Anthropologist Franz Boas had a similar experience. In the summer of

1883 he joined an expedition from Germany to the Eastern Arctic where he

was to study “the simple relationships between the land and the people.”

By that winter he found himself among the Inuit of Baffin Island, living as

they lived, eating raw fish. It was his first experience of an Indian culture.

Two days before Christmas that year, on Sunday, December 23, he wrote

in his journal:

Now I am sitting in Ocheitu’s igloo celebrating a great feast with

him. Today Ocheitu caught two seals and now every man in camp

receives a piece. Isn’t it a fine custom among these “savages” that

they endure privations together, but all happily share in the eating

and drinking communally when some game has been killed.

I often ask myself what advantages our “good society” possesses

over the “savages” and the more I see of their customs, I find that

we really have no grounds to look down on them contemptuously.

Where among us is there such hospitality as here? Where are there

people who carry out any task requested of them willingly and

without grumbling? We should not censure them for their conven-

tions and superstitions, since we “highly educated” people are rela-

tively much worse.

The fear of the old traditions and the old conventions is truly

deeply implanted in humankind, and just as it controls life here, it

obstructs all progress with us. I believe that in every person and

every people, renouncing tradition in order to follow the trail of

the truth involves a very severe struggle. But what am I struggling

for?47

For Boas it was “the most anxious year” of his life, and yet he remained

light hearted seeing “how even these miserable people [the Inuit] can live

happily and cheerfully here!”48

Even today traditional Indians still view reality as a situation in which

their lives are permanently subject to rules imposed by spiritual powers.49

They clearly understand there are two worlds in motion—this world and

the spirit world.50 As long as we deny the existence of this other realm,

this second reality that is physically connected to this reality in yet myste-

rious ways, we have little hope of ever understanding the real depth of

American Indian cultures. For example, last century linguists made a

rather accidental discovery that pointed “to a division of the world, among

various Pomo groups, into two mutually exclusive spheres.”51 There is

an Outside and an Inside realm. The Outside is the source of power and

approached through prayer. The Inside “is the sphere of the tame, the

human, the safe, the ordinary, and, vis-á-vis the Outside, as weak, inse-

cure, and supplicant.”52 Dorthy Lee made the same discovery in her study

of the Wintu language. “There is further the Wintu premise that there is

a reality beyond his paltry experience. Experience is secondary, and is

imposed as form by man’s consciousness, by conceptual and perceptual

experience [i.e., the observer effect]. The reality beyond this is accepted,

and toward it the Wintu directs belief. This is the realm with which he

deals in terms of luck or magic.”53 This dual aspect of reality is found in

all American Indian cultures. Without this understanding, one can never

truly understand their way of life, let alone unravel to what extent their

lives were influenced by their use of medicine powers.

Indian children are raised attuned to both worlds. In order to achieve

this feat, training emphasized developing one’s sensory abilities, the

feeling side of a human being. It also involved going into isolation and

solitude in order to contact the other world. Any seeker of power “needs

to be right still and passive, so as to let the other world outside slacken


its hold on him, and the real world within and around make itself felt [my

italics].”54 Contact with the spirit world teaches them the power of prayer.

Praying, the central activating principle of any medicine power, consists

of words delivered with sincerity via the heart mode. These (as clarified

in Chapter 2) are words that differ from ordinary spoken words. It is a

completely different type of voice.

They tell you that your [ceremonial] voice, it is given to you by

the Holy People. They are the ones that come upon you. When I

start, I might have a low voice, but towards morning I have a better

voice. Then I am going strong. When you are singing, you stop once

in a while and pray to yourself and that is how your voice stays

with you like that. It is up to the Holy People. All you do—your

prayers, your songs—the Holy People are the ones that keep things

straight for you. They give you a voice…The songs, they just come

out. It is like running out of you. That is how it is.55

Even though their development of sophisticated forms of thinking was

lacking, the development of their transcendental abilities went beyond our

ability to grasp or even imagine.

So what is to become of this small segment of our American Indian

population? They are not going to disappear. In fact, participation in

certain sacred ceremonies is on the rise. Today’s Sun Dancers come from

all races, even though Indians still remain the majority by far. Sweat

lodge ceremonies and the Sun Dance have migrated to reservations where

they were previously unknown, such as the Navajo Reservation. I recently

heard that the Lakota “Tossing the Ball” (Tapa Wanka Yap) sacred cere-

mony has been reactivated after more than a half-century hiatus. Other

reservations are following suit.

The current buzzword on reservations is “sovereignty,” where there

is a move towards self-governance. To this end many reservations are

beginning to teach their own language in elementary schools. This has

also brought about an awareness of the efficacy of their old ways, and

many ceremonies are being revised as a result of this language education.

I believe all these changes are bringing about an atmosphere of greater

tolerance towards medicine people. Remember, medicine powers do not

die, rather they remain at the spirit level long after those who conducted

the ceremonies for them have passed on. Anyone can acquire an extinct

ceremony at any time. Any reservation void of medicine powers can see

them return at any time. Wallace Black Elk was sometimes called upon to

help bring spirit powers back into certain Indian communities and else-

where when requested. The Sun Dance he founded in southern Oregon for

all races is still held annually to this day.

All of these changes have been grass-roots efforts. No support or pres-

ervation efforts are currently coming from the national level for medicine

people, despite the fact that 80% of the world’s population still depends on

some form of indigenous healing. To view their abilities simply as supersti-

tion is a bit arrogant or mindless at worst. We should not let our pride in

the achievements of western medicine and science blind us to the possi-

bilities held by Indian medicine people. It should not be a matter of their

ceremonies making no sense to us, but more a matter of where they can

successfully help. Recall, we tend to view trance experiences as “a mode of

shaping [imagining] and apprehending reality that is a broadly available

human potential.”56 It is much more than that! It is what enables medicine

people to be very good at finding things lost—kidnapped children, stolen

vehicles, and the like. They are also successful in healing disabilities that

western medicine is unable to handle, such as Godfrey removing the HIV

infection from a patient, or Wallace Black Elk fixing the nervous system

of a hospitalized four-year-old boy, who could not speak or swallow since

birth. After the ceremony the boy made sounds for the first time in his

life, leaving his physician totally confounded. In addition diagnosis by

spirit helpers often results in a more accurate prognosis than achieved

by western medicine where patients are often subjected to different tests

of medications or treatments before a cure is achieved. Also western

psychiatrists cannot determine the difference between spirit possession

and schizophrenia while shamans can. Many such possibilities exist and

could be taken advantage of if only their powers were assumed to be real.

There have been a few programs through the VA and the Indian Health

Service that have experimented with using Indian healers on Indian

patients, but they are filled with administrative difficulties and limita-

tions.57 In addition there are some contemporary anthropologists who

now support the efficacy of Indian healers. Two anthropologists recently

wrote, “Traditional views of healing processes have shifted to the recogni-

tion that ethnomedical practices [e.g., shamanic prognosis and healing

ceremonies] produce therapeutic effects.”58


There are many other areas in which we could use the skills of our

Indian medicine people. Frank Fools Crow, who saw medicine people as

“little hollow bones,” spoke to their various abilities.

Another thing we holy people know is who we are. We have a

clear self-image. To say this is not bragging. It is the truth. We

know we are part of Sioux history, and that when we have become

hollow bones there is no limit to what the Higher Powers can do

in and through us in spiritual things...The Power that we receive

is for curing, healing, prophesying, solving problems, and finding

lost people or objects. It is also for spreading love, transforming,

and assuring peace and fertility. It is not to give us power over

others because the source of power is not ourselves.59

Add to this weather control medicines, which we have utilized in the

past. Also, impending harm can also be foreseen such that actions can

be taken to avert it. Wherever medicine people exist, you have a small

micro-survival unit. These diverse units can be valuable to the survival of

everyone, especially in times of danger. They should be seen as units that

specialize in avoiding potential catastrophes. During World War II Wallace

Black Elk’s paratrooper unit was accidently dropped, in darkness, behind

Rommel’s German lines in North Africa. Only three men avoided capture—

Wallace and two white soldiers that were with him. By day they hid and

by night they crawled between the German lines in a circuitous route

led exclusively by one of Wallace’s helping spirits. The more such units a

culture has, the better are chances for survival. So from that standpoint

alone medicine people are valuable national treasures.

So what needs to happen? First and foremost the American Indians

themselves need to heal the gap that exists between them and their medi-

cine people. In 2004 Senator Sam Brownback introduced S.J. Res. 37,

which was an apology to the American Indians for past wrongs by our

government, but it was not acted upon. In 2007 Brownback again intro-

duced S.J. Res. 4 along with a companion bill, H.J. Res. 3. Finally and

unknown to most people because it was little publicized, President Obama

signed a watered-down version of the resolution on Dec. 19, 2009. That

was followed by an official ceremony at the Congressional Cemetery on

May 20, 2010 at which Brownback read the apology resolution.

However, this apology does not really speak to all the sources of wrongs.

As Tim Giago, the founding editor of the Lakota Times, pointed out:

When the Lakota spiritual practice of burying their dead by

placing them on scaffolds was outlawed by the government, the

Indian people were forced to join a church in order to bury their

dead.

The holy men of the Indian nations were ridiculed, imprisoned,

and oftentimes killed. The spirituality of the indigenous people

was forced to go underground in order to survive…for the most

part it was practiced in secret, thereby, lending ammunition to the

preachings of the local ministers, intent on destroying it, that its

believers were practicing black magic and were devil worshippers.

We need to ask ourselves who was actually doing this destruction?

Who was it that was informing the missionaries of ongoing medicine prac-

tices? Who was it that gathered around the fires set to sacred objects

by missionaries? Who were the medicine people really hiding from when

they went underground? Who did the medicine people fear the most? The

answer is most often it was their own people. It was the Indian converts

to Christianity and the government-hired Indian police who were spear-

heading this destruction. Therefore, is it not time for the American Indians

themselves to step forward and make a formal apology to their own medi-

cine people given their fundamental role in eliminating them? Many reser-

vations need to start recognizing their medicine people as a valuable asset

to the community and stop harassing their sacred ceremonies. For over

a half century now there has been a grass-roots movement that has seen

more Indians participating in traditional sacred ceremonies every year.

When will the day finally come when every American Indian can say, “Our

medicine people are real. They have real powers. We respect and honor

them as we did in former times.”?

I had high hopes that our new National Museum of the American

Indian would take a leading role in educating the American public

concerning the efficacy of Indian medicine powers as well as developing

cultural preservation efforts for them. During their initial stages of devel-

opment, in June of 1992, I made a special trip to Washington, DC to meet

with Founding Director Richard West. My intent was to impress upon him


the fundamental role that medicine powers once played in all American

Indian cultures and the necessity to preserve and protect their medicine

people. In their upcoming role as educator to the general public, would

they not spearhead an effort to eradicate the view that medicine traditions

are nothing more than superstition? Would they help return to Indian

medicine people the dignity and respect they held in former times? As part

of their national cultural preservation efforts could they not afford more

protection from harassment to contemporary medicine people?

Our meeting was prior to their selection of an architect to design the

museum, so I also wanted to request that they include a round, window-

less chamber in the plans of their new building, perhaps in the base-

ment, that could be used to conduct sacred ceremonies. When I arrived

at West’s office, he forthwith informed me that he would have no time to

meet with me because he had to immediately catch a train to New York

City. I informed him that I had just come from New York on the train for

our meeting, and would it be possible for us to return there together, to

which he consented. Consequently, I had a much longer meeting with him

than anticipated or scheduled for. West was most gracious and I did not

go unheard.

The windowless ceremonial chamber never materialized in the archi-

tectural drawings. However, I did stay in intermediate contact with West,

and eventually he informed me that they had incorporated into their future

plans an Office of Medicine Affairs. However, by the time the museum

doors opened in September 2004, this office had not been activated and

remains so to this day. Nevertheless, the museum was prepared to accom-

modate medicine people by allowing them to conduct prayer ceremonies

within the museum, and to also “awaken the spirits” of certain sacred

objects held in their massive collection. These visiting medicine people

were afforded dignity and respect by the museum staff, but it remained

in house.

In 2001 I helped the Kansas City Parks and Recreation Board found

the National Center for Indigenous American Cultures (NCIAC). This non-

profit organization is based in a city park that was formerly a Hopewell

habitation site. One aspect of this organization was to educate the public

concerning Indian spirit-based traditions. To that end two sweat lodges

were erected in the park and utilized by traditional Indian medicine men.

In 2003 NCIAC sent a letter to West suggesting that their museum

establish a working relationship with NCIAC to help educate the public

concerning medicine traditions. In his response West stated that he would

have his staff explore such a possibility, even though it “presents a number

of challenging and complex issues.” He also added, “NMAI will be orga-

nizing educational programs about Indian medical traditions as well as

seminars and symposia. These gatherings will bring together tribal prac-

titioners, the medical research and practicing physicians, and nurses,

and alternative medical staff.”

To my knowledge these programs never happened. I doubt they could

happen. Such gatherings assume that medicine people would have any

interest in meeting with people who don’t believe in the reality of their

powers. For example, shortly after reading The Eagle’s Quest I attended a

symposium in Albuquerque, NM (mentioned in Chapter 1) in part organized

by physicist Fred Wolf, the book’s author. It was to be a meeting between

physicists and Indian shamans. The intent was to enter into a dialogue

designed to explore new language possibilities for dealing with quantum

mechanics. As the ten or so Indian speakers introduced themselves at the

onset of the symposium, none of the them were actually shamans. That

resulted in their exchanges over the next few days going nowhere. As for

the cooperative effort between NMAI and NCIAC, we simply never heard

back from anyone at NMAI.

In a 2005 interview with West, entitled “Proclaiming our Presence-

Ensuring our Future” and published in the museum’s newsletter, he wrote,

“I think that the average American really needs to know about Native

people in ways that they may not have known about them in the past.”

This is indeed true concerning their medicine traditions. It is my sincere

hope that the day will come when NMAI funds its Office of Medicine Affairs

and begins to preserve and protect actively the Indian medicine tradi-

tions. As medicine traditions once again gain credence at the grass roots

level it is all the more important that support comes from the national

level, and particularly from this museum. Their mission statement reads,

“The National Museum of the American Indian is committed to advancing

knowledge and understanding of the Indian cultures of the Western

Hemisphere—past, present, and future…” What is sorely missing today

is the application of their mission to Indian medicine people. Until they

do so, this museum remains fundamentally an arts and crafts display

facility, while the former heart and core of their cultures goes ignored.


Concluding Overview

Quantum mechanics still remains a mystery. Given its rather recent

birth as a discipline of physics, I’m sure the enigmas will become clearer

with the passing of time. Yet haven’t we always been surrounded with

mysteries since we began walking this Earth as human beings? Nature

itself has a seemingly endless abundance of them, and each time we

unravel another one, we find ourselves in awe. I like to think of awe as one

of the many special gifts given to us in this life.

I have a favorite story about awe. It’s concerns Wallace W. Atwood

(1872-1949), who in his time was a world-class geologist. He spent his

entire career scouring the planet for specimens of porphyry, a hard

mineral rock filled with red and white feldspar crystals embedded in a

fine-grained, dark-red to purplish matrix, and dazzling in the light to the

eye. Variations of this mineral are scattered about the planet, and Atwood

traveled far and wide to find them. On one of his last hunting expeditions,

this time to the Canadian Shield glacial region, he discovered on one

island a magnificent outcrop of Saganaga porphyry. It was a discovery

he had long sought after and it made him jubilant. That night as he sat

around the campfire with members of his crew, his eyes twinkled as he

fondled his sparkling, prized specimen in the flickering light of the camp-

fire. Eventually, one of his guides, Sigurd Olson, spoke.

“Tell me, Dr. Atwood,” I said finally, “how is it that at the age

of eighty-four, you still get as much pleasure and excitement out

of a find like this as though you were a student on your first

expedition?”

He looked at the bit of porphyry again, turned it so the light

gleamed on its surfaces. It was a perfect piece and I knew it would

go back with him when the survey was completed.

“The secret,” he said, “is never to lose the power of wonder

at the mystery of the universe. If you keep that, you stay young

forever. If you lose it, you die.”60

I believe our reality to be a far greater mystery than we have been led

to believe. We have a tendency to shy away from things we cannot explain.

I suspect it would be difficult to find a university course devoted entirely

to the unknown, the anomalies of nature. For certain, objects are not all

that solid regardless of our experience of them. Furthermore, all objects

are interconnected in ways never imagined, called “the illusion of separ-

ateness” by mystics and “entanglement” by quantum physicists. This need

not be disconcerting. Like any new scientific discovery, I am sure we will

learn to live with this interplay between matter and consciousness, as well

as adapt it to our needs. Certainly the American Indians did so.

Everything written here about the North American Indian medi-

cine people applies to shamans everywhere. Their basic methodology is

the same, each beginning with a form of trance-induction for accessing

the SSC. In historical perspective, shamans are best seen as a survival

mechanism par excellence. They could save lives by foreseeing a sneak

attack by enemies, find game during times of starvation, bring rain to save

dying crops, etc. Again, this qualifies them as national treasures. That

is a value we should not lose sight of in these unstable times filled with

climatic, economic, and nuclear calamities. We should also remember

that our industrialized civilization is a rather recent event in the course

of human history, while traditional Indian cultures are millenniums old.

This indicates to me our current lifestyle still remains an experiment,

which may or may not prove successful in the long run. Our society does

have its Achilles Heel. Once the electricity stops, everything else stops.

Unfortunately we have developed few survival skills should this happen—

all the more reason to have shamans around.

On a deeper level, the reality of medicine powers means each human

being is a marvel of creation. That is a fact we should never lose sight

of. The shaman’s transcendental expertise is but one expression of this

marvel. Regardless of our inability to explain scientifically what they do,

we should at least give them the respect and dignity they held for thou-

sands of years. “We Shall Remain” was the title of a recent PBS documen-

tary series on the American Indians. Each episode of the series opened

with a female elder saying, “The most important thing to a person is the

power.” American Indian medicine people will always be here. Assuming

the validity of medicine powers is the first step to rewriting their history

as they lived it. It’s time to make it right.

Spirit Talkers

“But above all you should understand that there can

never be peace between two nations until there is first

known that true peace which, as I have often said,

is within the souls of men”

— Nick Black Elk61

Appendix 371

Appendix

Revisioning Siberian Shamanisms:

A Critique of Alice B. Kehoe’s Shamans and Religion

by Timothy White

Shamans and Religion: An Anthropological Exploration in Critical

Thinking by Alice Beck Kehoe. Prospect Heights, IL: Waveland Press,

2000. Biblio.; illus.; index; 125 pp.; $12.50 (paper).

When I received a copy of Alice Beck Kehoe’s Shamans and Religion:

An Anthropological Exploration in Critical Thinking, I jumped at

the opportunity to read it, because I had already seen several references

hinting that it offered a provocative new perspective on shamanism. At first

glance, I was intrigued by Kehoe’s stated intent to apply critical thinking

to refining our understanding of shamanic terms and methodologies. One

of my fundamental motivations for publishing Shaman’s Drum has been

to encourage the serious study of shamanic practices around the world,

and I believe that this process benefits from careful scholarship, critical

thinking, and experiential observation. Unfortunately, as I delved further

into Shamans and Religion, I found the book offers a spurious mix of

adversarial scholarship and vituperative propaganda—much of it aimed

at undercutting Mircea Eliade’s alleged influence on neoshamanism.1

This is a harsh accusation, so please bear with me as I explain my case.

In her acknowledgments, Kehoe (2000:vii) states: “This book grew out

of my research analyses of North American Indian studies and my efforts

to teach critical thinking to the hundreds of undergrads coming through

my anthropology classes [at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee]. What

seemed to me a growing example of the lack of critical thinking started my

critique of ‘shamanism.’” A few pages later, Kehoe (2000:2) explains that

she chose to use Eliade’s classic text Shamanism: Archaic Techniques

of Ecstasy as a case study in order to teach her students “the habit of

searching out biases and emotional nuances along with the examination

of concrete evidence and chains of logic.”

372 Spirit Talkers Appendix 373

at Eliade’s method and categorizations, his assumptions and sources.”

She editorializes, “They don’t hold up well.”

I have long appreciated the precept that it is useful to identify—up

front—the basic methodologies, biases, and motivations of scholars. For

example, it is important to understand that Eliade was not an anthro-

pologist but a religious historian, which is why he was preoccupied with

tracing broad mythopoetic religious themes. In fact, Eliade explicitly

states in Shamanism that he is setting out to understand and interpret

the phenomenon of shamanism from the standpoint of a religious histo-

rian, and he admits that his study consequently might be liable to “imper-

fection and approximation” (Eliade 1964:xi). As Kehoe suggests, his weak-

ness is that, in the process of tracing cross-cultural religious motifs, he

ignores many culture-specific aspects of shamanism.

Since personal biases can color an author’s logic and language, it

may be useful to examine Kehoe’s biases and motives, as well. While

reading Shamans and Religion, I noticed that Kehoe’s views on shamans

and neoshamanism seem to have been influenced heavily by her atti-

tudes regarding non-Natives practicing Native American spiritual ways.

Her inherent bias against neoshamanists is spelled out explicitly in the

seventh chapter, “Selling ‘Shamanic Journeys.’” For example, she opens

that chapter with a paragraph impugning Shaman’s Drum, claiming that

many “advertisers on its slick pages” are selling shamanic rituals—in

ways that remind her of the phrase “plastic medicine men.” Kehoe may be

justified in criticizing commercial exploitation of indigenous rituals, but

she provides no direct evidence to support her assertion that the adver-

tisers she mentions sell indigenous rituals. Instead, she self-righteously

condemns all “plastic medicine men,” which she explains is “a phrase

describing both a readiness to take credit card payment for rituals, and

the made-to-order rituals purveyed.” A little later, parroting a slogan often

leveled by some reservation Indians against Native medicine men who

share their knowledge and rituals with non-Natives, she adds, “What the

sellers of shamanic journeys have in common is that they do not minister

to their own communities but to strangers” (Kehoe 2000:82).

I call attention to Kehoe’s use of the above slogans because it shows

that she aligns herself with Native American culturalists who believe that

non-Natives have no business participating in Native rituals and prac-

tices. Indeed, I believe this bias is the driving force behind her critique of

Eliade and her desire to restrict use of the terms shaman and shamanism

Before addressing Kehoe’s specific critiques of Eliade’s “methods,

assumptions, and conclusions,” let me say that I welcome challenges

of his—or anyone’s—speculative theories on shamanism, particularly

when experiential and ethnographic evidence contradicts those theories.

For example, I have frequently challenged Eliade’s oft-quoted but inac-

curate claim that the shamanic use of psychoactives represents a late

and degenerate form of shamanic practice.2 In short, my responses to

Kehoe’s critiques should not be construed as a partisan defense of Eliade’s

Shamanism.

My fundamental concern—and my reason for devoting so much space

to this review—is that Kehoe’s text uses flawed scholarship, faulty logic,

and biased assumptions to paint a very misleading portrait of Siberian

shamans and shamanisms. Precisely because Kehoe’s presentation is

clothed in the robes of an academic textbook, I feel called to challenge

some of her misconceptions before they have a chance to solidify into

pseudoscholastic paradigms. I believe that good scholarship demands

that critics challenge inaccurate notions with specific evidence, not with

subjective rhetoric, so I have supported my critiques with more ethno-

graphic and experiential examples than I might normally use in a stan-

dard review. Hopefully, the discussion will shed some useful insights into

the nature of shamanic practices in Siberia and elsewhere.

Lessons in Critical Thinking

In light of Kehoe’s stated interest in critical thinking, I was surprised to

find that her book often relies on sarcastic innuendoes and unsupported

generalizations to impugn Eliade’s motives and slander his methodologies.

Occasionally, Kehoe’s treatment of Eliade is so iconoclastic that I began

to wonder if she was trying to provide her students with cogent examples

illustrating the need to “winnow out distorting stereotypes and parroted

slogans” (2000:5). For example, in the first lines of her introduction, Kehoe

(2000:1) mocks Eliade: “Once upon a time, in Paris, there was a Romanian

scholar who desperately wanted to become a professor in a major Western

European or American university.” Then, after accusing “the ambitious

Romanian” of being an armchair scholar, “sitting in his quiet, book-lined

office” and “collating second-hand data to picture a projected ancient reli-

gion,” Kehoe (2000:2) announces, “It is appropriate now to look critically


ship is weak on “evaluating sources,” and another by Balzer, who observes

that Eliade’s Shamanism “was helpful in scope but remarkably inaccurate

on details,” she doesn’t elaborate on her innuendoes.

Since Kehoe repeatedly champions the viewpoint that shaman is a

Tungus word—and even that its use should be restricted to that culture—

I was surprised to find that she ignores many of the most relevant ethno-

logical sources on Tungus (Evenki) shamanic practices—including Sergei

Shirokogoroff’s massive field study, Psychomental Complex of the Tungus;

Vilmos Diószegi’s exacting linguistic and ethnological research on the

Trans-Baikalian Tungus and Buryat (Hoppál 1998:107-179); and G. M.

Vasilevic’s scholastic analysis of Evenki shamanic practices (Vasilevic

1996). Instead, she bases her portrait of “real” Siberian shamans primarily

on early twentieth-century descriptive accounts of Koryak shamans from

Waldemar Jochelson’s The Koryak, and on a short description of a Samoyed

seance quoted in Gloria Flaherty’s historical overview of European

shamanology, Shamanism and the Eighteenth Century.4 Formulating a

portrait of Tungus shamanism around limited ethnographic data from

substantially different Siberian cultures is spurious scholarship.

Since Kehoe specifically accuses Eliade of misrepresenting his

sources, I was perturbed to find that she misrepresents two of Jochelson’s

accounts—one by a “bashful youth” and the other by another “young

Koryak”—as descriptions of authentic shamanic rituals. In contrast,

Jochelson (1908:45) confides that the first youth’s “appearance did not

inspire much confidence” and that “neither [man] enjoyed special respect

on the part of his relatives.” In short, Kehoe relies on accounts of three

short seances—two by inexperienced Koryak “adepts” and another by a

Yukaghir shaman—to paint her secondhand portrait of “real” Siberian

shamans.

My objection is not with the accuracy of Jochelson’s ethnographic

research, but with Kehoe’s exaggeration of its relevancy. Jochelson and his

associate Waldemar Bogoraz deserve credit for bringing Siberian shaman-

isms to the attention of Americans through a series of detailed and impec-

cably frank American Museum of Natural History reports. However, Kehoe

doesn’t explain that Jochelson and Bogoraz focused much of their research

on collecting and cataloguing material artifacts (functional tools, clothing,

and ritual paraphernalia), and that their descriptions of shamanic prac-

tices were mostly drawn from interviews and stories.

to Siberian cultures. If she can persuade the public that those terms are

indigenous Tungus terms, then she can censure neoshamanists for using

them. At one point, she suggests that anyone using the term shaman

should pay royalties to Tungus cultures. Later, in the closing lines of the

book, Kehoe (2000:102) makes explicit her central thesis: “Good schol-

arship, good science, and ethics oblige anthropologists to maintain the

terms ‘shaman’ and ‘shamanism’ primarily to Siberian practitioners so

called in their homelands.” I intend to show that good scholarship actually

contradicts her thesis.

The Dangers of Armchair Scholarship

One disturbing feature of Kehoe’s adversarial scholarship is that she

sometimes uses legitimate arguments to disparage opposing viewpoints

and then fails to hold her own research to the same tests. For example,

she correctly argues that extended fieldwork is vital to good anthropology

because it allows one to test theories against ethnographic realities. She

uses this argument to dismiss Eliade as an armchair shamanologist

because his field experience in non-Western societies was limited to three

years of studying philosophy and religion in India.

For someone who promotes the importance of field research, Kehoe

is noticeably vague about her own field experience in anthropology.

She mentions, in passing, that it included interviewing and observing

Piakwutch, “a respected Cree man who served his Saskatchewan commu-

nity as priest and spiritual healer,” and participating in some “camping

experiences near [Native American] ritual leaders” (Kehoe 2000:60). In

short, Kehoe appears to be an armchair pundit on the subject of shamans

and shamanizing.3

In another case of double-standard scholarship, Kehoe rightly suggests

that good cross-cultural research demands that scholars consult the most

relevant ethnographic sources, evaluate their sources honestly, and test

their theories carefully against available ethnographic data. The problem

is that she doesn’t always follow her own guidelines. For example, she

attacks Eliade for “using many secondary and unreliable sources and

apparently not always grasping the conclusions of those primary sources

he did consult” (2000:3). However, beyond quoting a short comment by

American anthropologist Willard Park, who claims that Eliade’s scholar-


have suggested that the Tungustic words saman and haman came directly

from the twelfth-century Manchu word saman, meaning “sorcerer,” which

may have been adapted from the Sanskrit word sramana/srama, a term

used to designate Buddhist monks. Berthold Laufer, a German ethnog-

rapher who participated in the Jesup North Pacific Expedition, assumed

that the Tungustic word saman and the Turko-Mongolian term kam are

linguistic equivalents (Laufer 1917). Dorzhi Banzarov, a contemporary

Buryat scholar, proposes that the Manchu word saman refers to “an

agitated, excited, and ecstatic person” (Znamenski 2003:69).

It is possible that the Tungus imported the word saman from the

Manchu. Russian shamanologist G. M. Vasilevic (1996:135-136) points

out that Tunguso-Manchurian languages use four basic word groups for

“shaman” and “to act as a shaman.” He argues that the most widely and

anciently used terms are jaja (to act as a shaman) and janjan (shaman),

which are etymologically related to words meaning “singing to the fire.”

The Evenki (Tungus) word nimna (to act as a shaman) is related to words

connected to “telling myths and tales.” Another Evenki word meaning “to

act as a shaman,” sewenca, refers to the process of inhaling spirits in order

to look for cures for the sick. Vasilevic explains that the fourth Tunguso-

Manchurian word group, saman and samaldi, refers to the jumping and

dancing movements of the shaman, but he argues that word saman was

not endemic to the Evenki.

Although the debate over the ontological meaning of the term shaman

may never be resolved, we can trace how shaman became a cross-cultural

term used to describe Siberian spiritual adepts. As Shirokogoroff, Flaherty,

and other shamanologists have reported, the term shaman (or schaman)

was popularized by eighteenth-century European explorers who adopted

it as a generic substitute for different indigenous terms—kam (Turkic), bü

(Mongol), udagan (Buryat, Yakut), ojun (Sakha), and tadyb (Selkup).

Kehoe, who borrows heavily from Flaherty’s historical study of early

European shamanology, mentions that the Dutch explorer Nicolas Witsen

introduced the Germanized word schaman in his 1692 travel book Noord

en Oost Tartaryen. As Flaherty (1992:24-25) indicates, Witsen’s book

included short secondhand accounts of shamanic practices in the Altai

and northwestern Siberia, as well as an imaginative etching depicting a

costumed “Tungus Shaman or Priest of the Devil,” one of the first published

pictures of a Siberian shaman.

Jochelson’s own reports indicate that, during the “years” he spent

studying the Yakut, Koryak, and Yukaghir, he observed surprisingly few

shamanic performances—two by young Koryak novices, two by Yukaghir

shamans, and one by a Tungus shaman living with the Yukaghir. In light

of his relatively limited participation in shamanic ceremonies, I think it

behooves us to approach his observations with respectful caution.

The Ontology of the Term Shaman

In the chapter “Real Shamans,” Kehoe asks the rhetorical question

“What is a shaman?” which she answers with some less-than-informative

generalizations. She writes: “The word comes from the Tungus language

of Central Siberia, where it designates religious leaders, men and women

who serve their communities by using hand-held drums to call spirit

allies. Saman in Tungus incorporates the root word sa, ‘to know,’ hence

an especially knowledgeable person” (2000:8). At first glance, Kehoe’s defi-

nition looks innocuous. Various scholars have referred to Tungus samans

as “religious leaders” who “served their communities,” and almost all

accounts indicate that Tungus shamans used “hand-held drums” to “call

spirit allies.”

Nonetheless, I contend that Kehoe’s definition is misleading for several

reasons. First, it perpetuates a loaded assumption that shamanic prac-

tices were endemic to the Tungus. As we shall see, many shamanologists,

including Shirokogoroff, believe that the Tungus adopted their shamanic

practices from neighboring cultures. Second, it places undue emphasis

on one relatively narrow cultural element—“using hand-held drums”—

while ignoring other more universal Siberian shamanic practices, such

as dreaming.5 Third, it fails to address some key Tungus shamanic traits

identified by Shirokogoroff, such as the emphasis on embodying spirits

and entering ecstatic trance. And fourth, Kehoe doesn’t indicate that the

sa etymology of shaman is only one of many available etymologies.

In a bit of sloppy scholarship, Kehoe doesn’t acknowledge the source for

her etymology of the term shaman; presumably, it came from the Hungarian

shamanologist Vilmos Diószegi, who offered a similar etymology in his

1974 Encyclopaedia Britannica entry on shamanism (Diószegi 1998a). In

addition, she does not acknowledge that various other etymologies have

been proposed. Some scholars—including Shirokogoroff (1935:269-270)—


synonyms for various ethnic terms—juma, jömma, muschan, toteba, and

totscheba—and his volume included several illustrations identified as a

“Krasnoyarsk shamanka,” a “Tungus shaman,” a “Bratsk shamanka,”

and a “Mongolian shamanka” (Flaherty 1992:74-76). In a book published

in 1774, Georg Wilhelm Steller, a German medical researcher who partici-

pated in an expedition to Kamchatka, described what he learned about

“Schamannerey” in that region, and he provided three illustrations of

“Kamchatkan schamanns” with drums (Flaherty 1992:50-54). These early

illustrations of shamans were also reproduced in later European texts. I

suggest that these illustrations—more than the ethnographic accounts

of shamans—crystallized the stereotypical image of wild-eyed shamans

playing drums and wearing elaborate costumes—an image that continues

to haunt the annals of Siberian ethnography.

The Diversity of Siberian Shamanisms

Kehoe (2000:16) acknowledges that “there is considerable variation

between different regions of Siberia and obvious adaptations to historical

circumstances,” and she even argues against lumping societies into arbi-

trary categories. Nonetheless, she often treats Siberian shamanisms as

if they were unified religious phenomena. For example, Kehoe (2000:15)

states, “From Purchas and Witsen through the Jochelsons and anthropol-

ogists currently observing Siberian communities, it is clear that Siberian

shamanism is a well-formulated set of religious practices that, as recorded

by literate travelers, has endured for at least five centuries.”

In contrast, Shirokogoroff argues that Tungus shamanic practices

were multifaceted complexes that had evolved through cultural exchange

and adaptation, and that they never existed as an isolated, codified reli-

gion. There is no evidence to suggest that Siberian shamanism was ever

transferred intact from culture to culture—as Christianity and other reli-

gions have been in many parts of the world. Moreover, even within specific

cultures, shamanic rituals and paraphernalia often differed from region

to region and shaman to shaman. For example, some Tungus shamans

wore feathered headdresses, and some wore stylized deer antlers (Diószegi

1998a:22-24).

Witsen’s etching of a Tungus shaman, in a book focused on north-

western Siberian practices, may have helped cement the cross-cultural

use of the term shaman, but it also may have inspired a confusing stereo-

type. For example, Kehoe (2000:14) erroneously presents one of Witsen’s

short descriptions of a Samoyed seance as an account of “Tungus shamans

that sounds much like those by Jochelson.” Kehoe’s misidentification of

the Samoyed seance is important in two respects: it illustrates how easy

it is to confuse different Siberian shamanic cultures, and it demonstrates

how an armchair scholar can overlook subtle but important shamanic

elements.

Witsen’s description makes no mention that the Samoyed shamans

used psychoactives, but it includes a basic sequence found in many

Siberian shamanic seances—“The sorcerer … falls in a faint while jumping,

and after having lain for a time, just as if rising out of a sleep, begins

to prophesy about all the preceding matters” (quoted in Kehoe 2000:14).

His account certainly bears intriguing parallels to accounts of fly-agaric

use among Samoyed shamans. For example, Swedish ethnographer K.

F. Karjalainen, who observed Irtysh Ostyak shamans using fly-agarics,

reports: “The magician eats three or seven [dried] fly-agaric caps on an

empty stomach...When he has slept for a while, he springs up and begins

to shout and walk to and fro, his whole body trembling with excitement.

As he shouts, he reports what the spirit has revealed to him through his

emissaries” (quoted in Wasson 1971:283).6 As I have argued before, the

basic collapse and journey sequence of Siberian shamanic seances may

derive directly from the effects of fly-agaric mushroom inebriation, or it

may have evolved from a ritualized enactment of those traits.7 Later in

this essay, I will present more evidence documenting the shamanic use of

psychoactives in Siberia—my intent here is simply to show how easy it is

for armchair scholars to overlook significant details in rituals.

In any case, as Flaherty (1992:23) points out, Witsen’s imagina-

tive illustration of a “Tungus schaman” may have inspired eighteenth-

century European explorers to apply the term shaman to other Siberian

ethnic groups. In Travels from St. Petersburg in Russia to Diverse Parts

of Asia (first published in 1763), John Bell—a Scottish surgeon, writing

in English—gave a description of a “shaman” performing a “shamanic

seance” that he witnessed among the Buryat-Mongols in southern Siberia

(Flaherty 1992:45). In a book published in 1772, the German explorer

Johann Gottlieb Georgi used the terms shaman and shamanka as


seances, “during which the shaman’s chief spirit helper enters his body

and speaks through him.” Nikolai A. Alekseev (1990:49, 52), who studied

the kamlanie among Turkic peoples, reports that the Yakut (Sakha)

shaman sometimes embodied spirits, which “sang” through the mouth of

the shaman, and then, after capturing evil spirits, “set out on his voyage

to retrieve the soul.”

Although some early explorers may have applied the term shaman

too loosely to a wide range of ethnic traditions, subsequent ethnographic

research suggests that cross-cultural uses of the term weren’t entirely

arbitrary. Shirokogoroff, Bogoraz, and other ethnographers have reported

that, despite language and cultural differences, Siberian peoples did not

hesitate to consult shamans from other tribes. The evidence also suggests

that Siberian shamanic cultures readily borrowed terms and practices

from each other and even from other cultures. For example, Diószegi

(1998b) argues that the Trans-Baikalian Tungus borrowed key elements

of shamanic paraphernalia—their shaman masks and shaman staffs—

from their immediate neighbors, the Buryat. Diószegi (1998b:22-24) also

points out that Mongolian and Buryat shamanic practices and ritual

paraphernalia incorporate many Tibetan Buddhist influences, such as

the shaman’s use of metal mirrors.

Parallels in Siberian Shamanisms

Many Siberian ethnographers, including Balzer and Humphrey, have

recognized certain intriguing cross-cultural parallels among the spiri-

tual rituals of Siberia. For example, Balzer (1997:xvii), who considers the

kamlanie to be at the heart of all Siberian shamanisms, lists common

goals or purposes of these rituals: recovery of a patient’s lost soul, exor-

cism of evil spirits in a patient’s body, escorting the soul of a deceased

person to other realms, and spirit consultations for practical problem

solving. These goals are similar to shamanic themes identified by Eliade

and to shamanic functions found in other parts of the world. Even Kehoe

(2000:67) acknowledges that—in the circumboreal regions of northern

Scandinavia, Russia, Siberia, Alaska, and Canada —“there seems to be a

basic concept that gifted individuals can develop through apprenticeship

and self-privation, the capacity to invoke spirits to come to aid in assisting

It is helpful to understand that Siberia is home to several major

language and culture groups, and that there are hundreds of distinct

Siberian ethnic populations spread across a landmass as large and as

ecologically diverse as the U.S.A. Starting in the northeastern corner of

Siberia, next to the Bering Sea, we find the so-called Paleo-Asian groups—

the Koryak, Chukchi, and Yukaghir. Toward the northwestern end of the

continent, there are the Finno-Ugrian cultures—the Nentsy (Samoyed),

Khanty, Mansi, Selkup (Ostyak Samoyed), and Nganasan. In between,

Tungus-speaking peoples—the Evenki, Evens, Nanai, Ulchi, Ude, and

Orochi—are found scattered across the taiga belt, from the Yenisey River

in central Siberia to the coast of the Sea of Okhotsk. There are also signifi-

cant populations of Turkic peoples (Yakut, Tuvan, Khakass, Altaian, Ugir,

Shor, and Tofalar) scattered across central and southern Siberia. Finally,

there are the Mongolian-speaking peoples—the Buryat, Kalmyk, and

Mongol—who inhabit the deserts and steppes of southern Siberia, and the

Turkic peoples (Uzbek, Kazakh, and Kirghiz) who live southwest of Siberia

proper. In addition to cultural differences, traditions within one culture

can vary from one ecosystem to another.8

Given the diverse environmental and cultural influences mentioned

above, one might expect to find many forms of Siberian shamanisms—

not one monolithic system. However, a majority of ethnographers have

reported that many Siberian cultures engaged in spiritual seances—

called kamlanie by the Russians—that seem to share many common

ritual elements and social functions. I say “seem to share” because most

accounts of these ceremonies were reported first by casual explorers

and later by amateur ethnographers, who oftentimes supplemented their

ethnographic observations with data borrowed from other cultures.

Although I personally appreciate that many cross-cultural elements

can be found in Siberian shamanisms, I am less sure that the shamanic

seances described in Siberian ethnographies are all the same. At the very

least, ethnographic records indicate that both ecstatic possessions and

trance journeys have played a role in Siberian shamanisms. As Anna-

Leena Siikala (Siikala and Hoppál 1992:12) points out, in the typical

seances of the Samoyeds and Ob-Ugrians of northwestern Siberia, the

shaman saw himself as traveling to visit the otherworld with his spirits.

The Sami (Lapp) noaides practiced a similar form of shamanic journey. In

contrast, Siikala (1992:11) reports that the shamans among the Evenki,

Yakut, and Manchu of central Siberia tended to conduct possession


In so doing, she makes the common error of focusing on external

shamanic phenomena, without always identifying the function of those

elements. For example, Kehoe (2000:52) offers a simplistic list of what she

considers to be the phenomenological hallmarks of Siberian shamanic

rituals. Her list includes: 1) a single-headed hide drum held in one hand

near the head; 2) a costume with pendants of geometric, animal, and

human form; 3) rituals of drumming, chanting, and dancing (including

imitations of animal voices and movements); and 4) “collapse for a period

of intense inward concentration.”

In my opinion, Kehoe here relies too narrowly on technical descrip-

tions of ritual paraphernalia and behaviors—without understanding their

shamanic functions. While the list may sound innocuous, I suggest that

Kehoe’s use of cultural elements is the hook on which she hangs her thesis

that shamanic practices should be restricted to Siberia. Initially, her first

criterion—“use of a single-headed hide drum held in one hand near the

head”—sounds reasonable. After all, drums have played a prominent role

in many Siberian shamanisms, and many Siberian shamans have used

single-headed, hand-held drums. However, it may be misleading to limit

even Siberian shamanizing to the use of single-headed drums.

We shouldn’t forget that other methods also were used by Siberian

shamans to commune with the spirits. For example, there is ethnographic

evidence that some Siberian cultures have used drone instruments when

performing kamlanie. Basilov (1989) observes that the Kazakh baqsï

(shamans) of central Asia regularly used the kobyz (a dual-stringed

instrument) to invoke the spirits. Elsewhere, Basilov (1990:45) describes

a Kazakh shamaness who played the kobyz during seances, and a Tuvan

shamaness who shamanized using a vargan (jaw harp), which emits

“droning otherworldly sounds.”

Based on recent field studies on Tuvan music and shamanism, Kira

Van Deusen (2004:108) suggests that—“through the effects of specific

frequencies and musical styles on the human body”—music can help open

the inner, spiritual ears of shamans, call helping spirits, and heal patients.

She quotes a statement by Tuvan musicologist Valentina Süzükei: “There

is a bridge on these sound waves so you can go from one world to another.

In the sound world, a tunnel opens through which we can pass, or the

shaman’s spirits come to us. When you stop playing the drum or temir-

khomus (jaw harp), the bridge disappears” (Van Deusen 2004:108).

community members,” and she concedes that the “ritual adepts” of these

circumboreal cultures may be called “shamans.”

In light of Shirokogoroff’s careful attention to ethnographic detail, I

consider it significant that he also favored a fairly broad cross-cultural use

of the term shamanism. He states: “This term may naturally be extended

over other groups possessing complexes which … may be considered as

similar ones, regardless of whether their similarity is due to the diffu-

sion of a complex from a certain ethnical [sic] group, or might come to the

same forms, as it is observed in the cases of parallelism” (Shirokogoroff

1935:271).

At one point, Kehoe (2000:52) states: “The question of whether

‘shamanism’ can be considered to be a worldwide phenomenon hinges on

what label to give the human species’ proclivities to create music and dance

and the intense concentration that is felt as disembodying one’s soul.” I

contend that it is oversimplistic to reduce shamanic abilities to “music,

dance, and mental concentration,” as Kehoe frequently does, because

those proclivities can manifest in many ways that may be only super-

ficially related to shamanizing. Although I agree that creative proclivi-

ties may play a role in shamanizing, I propose that humans also possess

certain innate shamanic proclivities or extrasensory abilities—intu-

ition, precognition, empathic communication, remote scanning abilities,

and creative visualization skills—that can be developed and enhanced

through different techniques. In either case, if shamanic practices are

rooted in innate human behaviors, we should not be surprised when those

behaviors manifest in somewhat similar ritual practices around the world.

Hallmarks of Shamanizing

For over a century, shamanologists have endeavored to identify the

fundamental cross-cultural phenomena involved in shamanic practices.

The task is formidable and complicated by the fact that ethnographers and

shamanologists have tended to emphasize certain elements and down-

play others, depending upon their areas of expertise. As Kehoe suggests,

Eliade’s interests inspired him to see cross-cultural religious motifs and

themes everywhere. Kehoe’s bias is that she insists on staying “within

the anthropological perspective: limiting discussion to replicable observa-

tions—the essential foundation of scientific studies” (Kehoe 2000:6).


Shirokogoroff (1935:333) makes an instructive comment regarding the

ability of the Tungus to distinguish between enacted performances and real

shamanic ecstasies: “Anybody who is familiar with the shamanistic texts

(prayers) as well as tunes and ‘dancing’ can reproduce them, but it will not

be shamanizing, but rather a most vulgar farce.” Based on my observation

of various shamanic healing ceremonies, I contend that shamanic drum-

ming, chanting, and dancing are qualitatively different than ordinary

forms of these activities. My experiences have taught me that shamanic

trances sharpen shamans’ sensory and extrasensory perceptions, helping

them recognize and produce trance-supportive sounds and movements.

Kehoe’s fourth hallmark criterion—“collapse for a period of intense

inward concentration”—is her euphemistic substitute for what most

shamanologists call “ecstasy.” I assume Kehoe’s behavioral trope reflects

her belief that Siberian seances could not have involved true ecstasy—i.e.,

out of body experiences—because many accounts indicate that shamans

collapsed for only brief periods during their alleged journeys into other

realms. However, there is evidence that Siberian shamans adjusted their

shamanic rituals to fit the need at hand. For example, Shirokogoroff

comments that the Tungus recognized different forms of shamanizing:

small shamanizing, which involved mild-trance divinations; and orgiski

(lower), or lower-world, shamanizing, which involved ecstatic journeys to

the lower world and required sacrificing a reindeer (1935:304). I propose

that Siberian shamans engaged in a range of shamanic states—from

light-trance states to full-fledged, out-of-body ecstatic journeys—and that

the same range may be found in other parts of the world.

While I appreciate Kehoe’s critique that the words trance and ecstasy

have been used so indiscriminately in Western culture that they have lost

some of their specificity, I don’t see how her behavioral trope for ecstasy—

“intense concentration that is felt as disembodying one’s soul”—helps

clarify the definition. The descriptive phrase—“intense concentration”—

could apply to a broad range of mental processes, including reading a

book and zazen meditation, and the qualifying phrase—“felt as disem-

bodying one’s soul”—relies on subjective interpretations that may be no

more precise than the concept of ecstatic trance.

From a functional perspective, the frame drums and drone instruments

used by Siberian shamans all produce rhythmic vibrations and harmonic

overtones that can help entrance shamans and their audiences.9 Other

cultures have used other instruments—such as bull-roarers and didjer-

idus—and chanting to produce similar entrancing overtones. Instead of

equating shamanizing with the use of single-headed drums, I propose

it would be more appropriate to designate “the use of trance-enhancing

sound” as a key hallmark of shamanic activity.

Kehoe’s second criterion, the use of “costumes with pendants,” may be

typical of some cultural forms of Siberian shamanizing—but certainly not

all. Stylized ritual costumes played a significant role in some cultures, but

shamans in other Siberian cultures performed without special costumes.

Bogoraz (1907:433) notes that Chukchee (Chukchi) shamans used no

special costume—the shaman simply “takes off his fur shirt and remains

quite naked down to the waist.” Alekseev (1990:68) points out that Khakass

shamans put on normal fur coats to shamanize, and he mentions that

Yakut white shamans (ak kam) didn’t utilize ritual costumes.

Once we understand the shamanic function of costumes, Kehoe’s

emphasis on using them seems overstated. It is useful to remember that,

in those Siberian cultures that expected their shamans to wear special

costumes, the costumes were often decorated with ritual items repre-

senting spirits.10 Writing about the Tungus, Shirokogoroff (1935:287)

states: “We must say that there is no shamanism without paraphernalia.”

Interestingly, he clarifies that the importance of the paraphernalia and

costumes comes from their function as spirit repositories, or placings.

From an experiential perspective, I propose that the importance of

shamanic costumes and paraphernalia comes in part from their role as

mnemonic symbols, helping the shaman recall and identify with spiritual

powers originally encountered during ecstatic initiations or other visionary

experiences. Of course, cultural and transcultural associations may also

enhance the metaphoric potency of costumes, which is why shamanic

paraphernalia often depict cross-cultural motifs.

Kehoe’s third hallmark of shamanizing—“rituals of drumming,

chanting, and dancing”—is clearly the broadest, least culturally bound

criterion on her list. Unfortunately, her focus on the external elements

of ritual performances—as opposed to inner states—prevents her from

discriminating between shamanic and nonshamanic forms of these

activities.


considered ecstasy to be a hallmark of shamans: “A candidate who would

not know how to bring himself into a state of extasy [sic] would never be

credited by the people to have shamanistic power, and could not become

a shaman” (1935:274). In other words, the Tungus believed shamanic

“mastery of the spirits” requires “mastery of extasy [sic].”

If Shirokogoroff’s accounts of Tungus shamans were accurate, we must

assume that there is more to shamanizing than the enactment of dramatic

performances. For example, Shirokogoroff (1935:348) describes an unsuc-

cessful seance attempted by a Khingan Tungus shaman, “who fell on the

ground three times, his body rigid, grinding his teeth. Then he was asked

several questions, but his replies were incoherent. No extasy [sic] could

be produced, not even after heavy smoking of tobacco and drinking of

alcohol diluted with water. The performance failed: he felt miserable and

tried to avoid speaking about himself or his performance.” This account

suggests to me that the Tungus measured shamanic ecstasy not in terms

of external performances, but in terms of the shaman’s ability to access

transpersonal powers.

I propose that the inner experience of contacting transpersonal powers

may be precisely the one factor that distinguishes an authentic shamanic

seance from an enacted performance. Balzer (1995:183-184) indicates

that one of the Sakha terms for a shaman’s seance is kyryylara, meaning

“traveling to the edge,” and she relates an interesting story of a Sakha

actor—known for his theatrical enactments of shamans—who stopped

performing long seances on stage because he had a frightening experi-

ence, during a theater performance, of nearly slipping into trance—almost

going “over the edge.” In my opinion, it is this experience of crossing beyond

the edge that allows one to tap into the transpersonal powers that are at

the heart of shamanizing.

In contrast, Kehoe portrays shamanic ceremonies as “religious rituals”

that involve “intense concentration,” a view that seems to have been based

on her limited anthropological field research among northern Native

American tribes (Kehoe 2000:60). She cites some comments from Siberian

ethnographic reports suggesting that shamans engaged in mental concen-

tration. However, she acknowledges her emphasis on “intense mental

concentration” was inspired primarily by her experience of watching a

Saskatchewan Cree religious leader and spiritual healer greet the dawn

each day in meditation. “Intense mental concentration” may be an appro-

Is Ecstasy Vital to Shamanizing?

One of the fundamental complaints Kehoe raises in Shamans and

Religion is that Eliade grossly exaggerated the connection between

shamanism and ecstasy. She suggests that he uncritically adopted the

idea of shamanic ecstasies from the works of eighteenth-century armchair

scholars, and that their views inspired him to misread his ethnographic

sources regarding the role of ecstasy in Siberian shamanic practices.

However, Kehoe (2000:37-38) also accuses Eliade of choosing to use the

word ecstasy in his book title because it sounded “sexy” and because

“most readers would think of the broader use of the word ‘ecstasy’ to mean

‘poetic frenzy, rapture.’” While some Westerners may confuse shamanic

ecstasy with the personal pursuit of euphoric states, I see no reason to lay

the blame for this confusion at Eliade’s feet. As Kehoe admits, Eliade used

the term in its correct classic meaning of ex-stasis—“standing outside of

oneself.”

I am not convinced that Eliade exaggerated the role of ecstasy in

Siberian shamanisms. Good scholarship requires that anthropolo-

gists support their fundamental assumptions and theorems either

with direct experiential observations or by citing reliable sources, and

Eliade may have blundered by not acknowledging the source of his key

formula, “shamanism = archaic techniques of ecstasy.” Nonetheless, since

Eliade references a number of his comments about shamanic ecstasy to

Shirokogoroff, I assume that he drew heavily on Shirokogoroff’s monu-

mental study. Eliade’s paradigm equating shamanism and ecstasy is

certainly compatible with Shirokogoroff’s ethnographic research.

Shirokogoroff offers several working definitions of shaman. At one point,

he succinctly characterizes shamans as “masters of spirits” (1935:271).

At another, he concludes, “In all Tungus languages this term [saman]

refers to persons of both sexes who have mastered spirits, who at their will

can introduce these spirits into themselves and use their power over the

spirits in their own interests, particularly helping other people, who suffer

from the spirits; in such a capacity they may possess a complex of special

methods for dealing with the spirits” (1935:269). In short, Shirokogoroff

views shamans as adepts who have mastered spiritual powers.

At first glance, Shirokogoroff’s emphasis on “mastering of spirits”

might seem to contradict Eliade’s emphasis on ecstatic trance. However,

Shirokogoroff’s ethnographic treatise also indicates that the Tungus


For someone who gives lip service to honoring the views of indigenous

practitioners, Kehoe exhibits an inflexible skepticism regarding the role of

spirits in shamanism. At one point, based on secondhand field studies of

the Dene Tha people of northern Canada, she offers this rationalization

of spirit encounters: “Dene Tha sensitivity to unusual animal or weather

behavior, interpreted as communication from other-than-human beings,

seems comparable to many Christians’ sensitivity to what are interpreted

as inner promptings from Jesus, a saint, or the Holy Spirit” (2000:27).

Based on personal shamanic experiences, I can testify that having

a vision of a rock formation changing into a living spirit who communi-

cates specific teachings is substantially different from having an unusual,

intuitive encounter with an animal. While I admit that spiritual visions

may be experienced in the form of cultural symbols, my experience is that

shamanic visions access transpersonal energies that can’t be reduced to

inner promptings.

Whether or not spirits exist as totally autonomous entities may be

difficult to prove, but I contend that spirits—real, metaphoric, or imag-

inable—play a central role in Siberian shamanic practices, and their

importance should be acknowledged. I have already mentioned that

Shirokogoroff considered mastery of spirits to be a defining element in

Tungus shamanism. It is significant that many Siberian terms for shamans

highlight the shaman’s connection to spirits. Jochelson (1908:47) explains

that Koryaks call their professional shamans ene’nala’n (“a man inspired

by spirits”). Bogoraz (1907:414) indicates that the Chukchi term for family

shamans is eñe’ñilit, meaning “those with spirits,” from the word e’ñeñ

(“shamanistic spirit”).

In contrast, Kehoe displays a rigid scientific skepticism regarding the

existence of spirits. At one point, she writes: “Astonishing as it may seem

to us, the learned seventeenth-century intellectuals who established the

principles of experimental science did not question the existence of invis-

ible spirits, nor their ability to affect things in this world” (Kehoe 2000:43).

In my opinion, Kehoe’s skepticism limits her understanding of the spiri-

tual foundation of Siberian shamanisms.

priate term for some meditative rituals, but I contend that shamanic

trance states can go far beyond the limits of intense mental concentration.

Let me provide a comparative example drawn from Native American

Church (NAC) ceremonial practices. Although the all-night peyote cere-

mony could be described as a religious ritual involving “intense concentra-

tion,” concentration is only one ingredient in the recipe. In my experience,

it is precisely the synergistic combination of eating the entheogenic sacra-

ment, being enveloped in intense drumming and chanting, and engaging

in the prayerful invocation of transpersonal spirit powers that helps shift

a person into trance states and, more rarely, into transpersonal visionary

states—what Shirokogoroff and Eliade might call “ecstasy.”

A Reductionist View of Shamanic Spirits

Kehoe takes umbrage at Eliade’s thesis that it is better “to classify

shamanism among the mysticisms than with what is commonly called a

religion” (Eliade 1964:8). She accuses him of isolating shamanic ecstasy

from general spirituality. For example, Kehoe (2000:42) states, “Shamans,

in Eliade’s view, share a capacity for spirituality with all humans, but are

marked out by their falling into ecstasy and learning to control ecstatic

techniques for heightening religious experience.”

In contrast to Eliade’s alleged mystical leanings, Kehoe adopts a decid-

edly sociological approach to shamanic experience. Citing a comment by

American anthropologist Eva Fridman that, among the Buryat, “shaman-

led rituals honoring ancestors made visible the supportive community of

relatives and neighbors,” Kehoe (2000:22) argues that Siberian shaman-

isms are essentially cultural phenomena that serve to bind Native peoples

into communities. She (2000:24) also argues that the concept of “shamanic

religion” may be compared to the sociologist’s concept of “American civil

religion”—a complex of rituals and myths promoting patriotism and

community feeling.

Kehoe does admit that relying on a functional anthropological perspec-

tive of religion ignores the potent driving force of belief. However, I get the

impression that she views shamanic ritual as performance art, designed

to stimulate emotional states—not evoke spiritual powers.


forms of spiritual healing that don’t rely on the help of transpersonal

forces.

While I appreciate the efficacy of the placebo effect and the restorative

value of rest and relaxation, I have witnessed shamanic healings work

often enough to state that, at least in some cases, something miraculous

is happening. I once observed the case of a small child who was healed

shamanically after suffering for nearly a month from a lung ailment that

several Western medical doctors had been unable to diagnose or treat.

Skeptics might claim the healing was a case of “waiting out the illness,”

but the fact is that the shamanic healing worked immediately, whereas

allopathic treatments had failed despite substantial time passage.

In another case, I observed a shamanic healer successfully treat a

woman suffering from metastasized cancer. The healer first underwent

several days of fasting in order to purify himself and align with spiri-

tual energies. During that time, he incubated a series of dreams, which

he later utilized while conducting an all-night ceremony involving an

entheogenic sacrament. After hours of intense drumming, chanting, and

praying, he conducted a doctoring ritual that included handling red-hot

coals with his bare hands. The healer attributed the ritual’s successful

outcome to a combination of elements: preparing through purifications;

incubating diagnostic healing dreams; generating energy states through

prolonged drumming, chanting, and praying; and, finally, invoking the

healing power of the fire spirit through handling live coals.

In my experience, it is difficult for most Western-trained ethnogra-

phers to grasp the reality of transpersonal powers because they have not

personally experienced those powers in shamanic states of consciousness.

Outside entheogenic ceremonies, Western ethnographers rarely experi-

ence deep shamanic states, because most lack the fortitude to undergo the

rigorous practices used in non-entheogenic traditions. Few ethnographers

have undergone the Japanese yamabushi practice of standing under icy

waterfalls for hours at a time. Fewer still have considered undergoing the

arduous training practices of Cogi mamas who spend years in darkness

and virtual isolation, meditating on the spiritual nature of the universe.

In contrast, many ethnographers have experienced deep shamanic

states while participating in entheogenic practices—some have even

reported vivid accounts of seeing spirits. Indeed, I propose that the

phenomenal growth of public interest in shamanism over the last fifty

Rationalizing Shamanic Healing

Kehoe never directly dismisses the role of transpersonal spiritual

powers in shamanizing, but she clearly adopts a Western rational view

of shamanic healing. For example, in a section reviewing anthropological

views of shamanic healing, Kehoe makes the following revealing comment:

“That shamans really can heal by sucking out or blowing off disease or

retrieving souls by interior journeying is well documented. Two scien-

tific explanations account for this: the placebo effect, involving hormonal

changes induced by emotions, and the fact that many illnesses simply

heal given enough time” (Kehoe 2000:28).

For centuries now, Western rationalists have tried to explain away the

efficacy of shamanic spiritual healings by offering all sorts of pseudosci-

entific explanations—ranging from sleight-of-hand to the placebo effect.

Kehoe uses similar rationalizations to explain shamanic divination and

healing. For example, she says, “To sum up, shamans’ successes can be

attributed to the probability that intense concentration will ‘conjure up’ an

image that could well be correct, given the diviner’s familiarity with the

client’s life and the probability that time may allow the body to heal, plus

the beneficial hormonal effect of optimism” (Kehoe 2000:29).

I consider it chauvinistic for Kehoe to summarily dismiss the spiri-

tual perceptions of shamans and patients simply because she believes

anthropology should be “based on observations that others also can see”

(Kehoe 2000:27). Even modern Western medicine is beginning to recog-

nize that healing may be facilitated by the synergistic interaction of subtle

healing elements—emotional affirmations, community support, rest and

relaxation, improved nutrition, the placebo effect, creative visualizations,

and—last but not least—spiritual interventions.

Recent double-blind scientific studies reported by Larry Dossey (2004)

provide verifiable evidence that nonlocal prayer can significantly enhance

other forms of healing. Based on personal experiences and my informal

surveys of shamanic healing reports, I would suggest that the invocation

of transpersonal spiritual powers—however they are conceived—plays

an active role in most successful shamanic healing traditions. Spiritual

powers may be invoked in many forms—as ancestral spirits (deceased

shamans in Evenk), as animistic forces (the fire spirit and deer spirit in

Huichol culture), and as transcendent deities (Tantric deities, Christian

saints, and Yoruba orishas). However, I cannot think of any indigenous


ceremonies, they pretend indeed to fast all the day, but they make up for

this abstinence at night by a profusion of the mourkumorr, … which they

eat and drink to satiety. This preparatory intoxication they consider a

duty” (quoted in Wasson 1971:242). As an outside observer, Lesseps didn’t

realize that fasting greatly enhances the effects of A. muscaria, and that

eating the mushrooms was vital to the ceremony.

Trying to describe shamanic states from the viewpoint of a rational

scientific observer can result in grossly inaccurate assumptions. For

example, the Danish explorer Carl von Dittmar, who spent four years trav-

eling in Kamchatka during the 1850s, writes, “I learned that shamans

are very eager to take in a certain quantity of Amanita muscaria in order

to get themselves into a stupor resembling complete insanity” (quoted

in Wasson 1971:257). Never having tried the mushrooms, von Dittmar

mistakenly compared their effects to alcoholic inebriation, which may look

superficially similar but is internally very different. In contrast, Finnish

ethnographer Kai Donner and Polish brigadier Joseph Kopec, who expe-

rienced the mushrooms, reported internal experiences that paralleled

indigenous descriptions of the mushroom’s ability to produce shamanic

trances (Wasson 1971:243-246, 286).

Wasson isn’t the only scholar to claim that Amanita muscaria was

used shamanically in Eurasia. As I mentioned earlier, there is strong

evidence that the Samoyed shamans of northwestern Siberia used Amanita

muscaria mushrooms to induce trance states. Balzer (1997:xxix)—whom

Kehoe commends for her research on the Ob-Ugrian Khanty, a Samoyed

people—states that Khanty shamans used A. muscaria, and that its

shamanic use may have been ancient. The Russian ethnographer V. M.

Kulemzin reports that Khanty ielta-ku (shamans) in the Vaiugan area

ate fly-agaric mushrooms before beating their drums to summon helping

spirits (see Znamenski 2003:174). Kulemzin relates that Khanty ielta-

ku in the Vahk area also ate a few dried fly-agaric mushrooms when

preparing to cure a person. Donner (1954:79-80), who conducted two

years of field research among the Ostyak Samoyed (Selkup), states that

their shamans, or tadebja, ate fly agaric “as a means of intoxication before

starting the shamanizing.” Writing about a related Samoyed group, Toivo

Lehtisalo reports: “The forest Yurak magicians also knew the custom of

eating fly-agarics” (quoted in Wasson 1971:280). Lehtisalo explains that

the Ostyak verb panxtem, meaning to “cure with incantations” or to “sing

years can be traced directly to the relative accessibility of indigenous

entheogenic practices.

Do Real Shamans Use Drugs?

From my perspective, Kehoe’s most insidious syllogism is her maxim

that Siberian shamans didn’t need to use “drugs,” and that people who

do use psychedelics aren’t shamans. It is ironic that, in this case, Kehoe

seemingly endorses Eliade’s assumption that the use of psychoactives was

a late and degenerative practice in Siberian shamanisms (a theory that he

based on the fact that tobacco and alcohol were introduced into Siberia

by Russian and Chinese traders). In order to maintain their biases, both

Kehoe and Eliade had to ignore substantial ethnographic evidence that fly

agaric (Amanita muscaria) was used in Siberian shamanisms.

As I have mentioned, Jochelson indicates that Siberian shamans used

psychoactive substances to induce shamanic trances. He not only reports

extensive secular fly-agaric use among the Koryak but also makes this

revealing observation: “Many shamans, previous to their seances, eat fly-

agaric in order to get into ecstatic states” (quoted in Wasson 1971:266).

In addition, Jochelson recorded many folk tales, collected among the

Koryak and Kamchadal, that deal with amanita spirits—a good indi-

cation that the use of mushrooms was long standing in those cultures

(Wasson 1971:265-272). Kehoe (2000:65) admits that Koryak shamans

used fly agaric, but she downplays the evidence by suggesting, “Neither fly

agaric nor marijuana was required by northern Asian shamans, even if

used by some to induce ‘trance.’” The problem is that Kehoe soon converts

this neutral statement into an exaggerated maxim that “real shamans

don’t use drugs.” I contend that Kehoe’s exaggeration reveals an inherent

bias against psychoactives and her ignorance regarding their function in

shamanic rituals.

In Soma: Divine Mushroom of Immortality, R. Gordon Wasson

compiled and translated many historical accounts describing the use of

Amanita muscaria—known variously in Siberia as fly agaric, mourku-

morr, or panx. While Eliade claimed their use was secular and degenera-

tive, early historic reports confirm the shamanic use of the mushrooms.

For example, the French aristocrat Jean Baptiste Lesseps, who visited

the Kamchatka Peninsula in 1788, mentions: “On the eve of the magic


called “shamans”—primarily because “they use drugs and don’t use

drums.” Using her dubious maxim and circular logic, she argues: “Since

the 1960s, the label ‘shaman’ has been applied to these drug-using ritual

leaders in spite of the many significant differences between them and

Siberian shamans, notably in that psychotropic plants are not a neces-

sary component in Siberia and, conversely, lowland South American ritual

leaders do not generally use a drum, which is necessary for most Siberian

shamans” (Kehoe 2000:65).

Kehoe (2000:45) specifically argues that a Tukano payé and Huichol

mara’akame shouldn’t be called shamans, on the grounds that “they use

drugs” and “they do not use hand drums in rituals.” As I have shown, even

in Siberia, there are exceptions to Kehoe’s rule regarding hand drums, and

there is clear evidence that Siberian shamans did use fly agaric. Moreover,

Huichol mara’akame use drums in their harvest ceremonies, when the

shaman guides children on a visionary journey to the land where peyote

grows.

In my opinion, Kehoe (2000:45) displays a poor understanding of

shamanic methodologies when she claims that Tukano payé are not

shamans because “they do not wear hide or fringed garments nor iron or

doll-like pendants, nor do they wear antler headdresses; they wear neck-

laces with rock crystals, quartz, and jaguar teeth, and crowns of feathers.”

Kehoe’s error is that she fails to appreciate the functional similarity of those

various objects. According to Shirokogoroff (1935) and Bogoraz (1907),

the Siberian shamanic paraphernalia functioned as spirit placements,

representing mastery over those spirits. According to Gerardo Reichel-

Dolmatoff (1972), Tukano rock crystals and jaguar teeth also represent

mastery over specific spirits. I propose that the Siberian antler headdress

and the Tukano crown of feathers serve basically similar symbolic func-

tions, representing animal spirits associated with the shamans of those

respective cultures.

In another section, Kehoe challenges Peter Furst’s description of the

Huichol mara’akame don Ramón Medina y Silva as a singing-shaman.

Once again, Kehoe’s comparison of Siberian shamans and Huichol

mara’akame is based on relatively superficial details, such as the fact that

Huichols embroider their symbols on cotton cloth instead of sewing them

on reindeer skins. She states, “The Huichol adept thus differed from the

Siberian in material objects (type of drum, other instruments, costume,

use of peyote and tobacco), while his practice was similar in employing

and shamanize after having eating fly-agarics,” is derived from panx (cited

in Wasson 1971:310-312).

Kehoe exhibits a general naiveté about psychoactives. First, she exposes

her ethnobotanical ignorance when she labels fly agaric as “potentially

fatal.” Although some Siberian cultures promoted the belief that eating

A. muscaria could kill nonshamans, Wasson points out that such super-

stitions were used to discourage the nonshamanic use of sacred mush-

rooms. Both scientific and experiential studies have proven that fly agaric

is not inherently poisonous, although some of its effects could alarm unin-

tentional users.11

Kehoe also reveals her ethnobotanical ignorance when she claims:

“Nor was any psychedelic plant other than tobacco used in northern

America.” The Anishinaubeg peoples living around the Great Lakes were

reported to use miskwedo, or A. muscaria, as a ritual entheogen to obtain

hidden knowledge (Wasson 1980:228; Heinrich 1994:201-203). For more

than a century, peyote (Lophophora williamsii) has been used ritually in

Native American Church ceremonies all across the continent, including in

Canada (Stewart 1987).

I am not proposing that psychoactives are a universal or essential

feature of shamanizing, only that they have played an important role in

many Siberian and Native American cultures. Based on personal experi-

ence participating in the Native American Church, I can testify that peyote

supports shamanic states of consciousness—improving one’s ability

to hear and produce harmonic overtones in drumming and chanting;

enhancing one’s ability to understand and creatively solve problems;

and allowing one to send and receive extrasensory communications. I

have also consumed psilocybin mushrooms in Zapotec healing ceremo-

nies, and I can testify that—when used in conjunction with chanting and

other shamanic techniques—they can definitely induce shamanic trances

(White 2004).

Shamanisms in the New World

Ethnographic evidence from Siberia, North America, and many other

parts of the world clearly refutes Kehoe’s view that shamans don’t use

psychoactives—which she derogatorily calls “drugs.” Nonetheless, Kehoe

insists that South and Central American ritual leaders should not be


Quiche Maya have many types of ritual healers, and that it does a disser-

vice to lump them all under the category of shaman. Using their Mayan

labels, Kehoe lists and describes eleven types of ritual practitioners, and

proposes that many of them perform acts substantially different from

Siberian kamlanie. It may be misleading to refer to all of these practitio-

ners as shamans, but ethnographers have the option of using the indig-

enous terms for specific types of healers or diviners, if they so choose.

Kehoe (2000:53) proposes that anthropologists could avoid confusion

by using culture-free descriptive English terms: “ritual practitioner, adept,

religious leader, spiritual healer, diviner, seer, sorcerer.” In my opinion,

the terms ritual adept and religious leader are so inclusive that they are

almost meaningless—Baptist ministers and Islamic mullahs may be reli-

gious leaders and Zen archers may be ritual adepts, but they are not

necessarily shamans. The other terms—spiritual healer, diviner, and

seer—identify specific functions that are practiced by nonshamans, as

well as shamans, even in Siberia.

Kehoe also reviews Flaherty’s suggestion that Westerners might use

the early Greek term pharmakeus, which once meant “sorcerer, magician,

shaman,” or the English word wizard, which comes from the same stem

word as wise and thus carries connotations similar to Diószegi’s etymology

of saman. While I appreciate the etymological parallels between wizard

and shaman, I would caution that switching to wizard as a cross-cultural

anthropological term would be a case of changing horses in midstream,

and that the change could generate more confusion and controversy than

it would resolve.

Kehoe asks, “Is there any good reason to select a word that entered the

European vocabulary in the eighteenth century from accounts of explora-

tions in Siberia?” My answer is yes: shaman is a relatively clear term that

has been used cross-culturally in Siberia for several hundred years, and

its general meaning is already recognized in many parts of the world. I

find it telling that, although anthropologists have often complained that

the term shaman has been used too loosely, and some have felt the need

to narrowly redefine it, many ultimately resort to using shaman because

it is the best word available.

The unfortunate curse of cross-cultural terms is that there will always

be cultural exceptions to any general definition. For this reason, I consider

it serendipitous that the term shaman had multiple meanings even in

Tungus-speaking cultures, a fact that led to the Tungus adding adjectives

music and dance, divining through intense concentration, and believing

that healing could result from the adepts inducing a mental state in which

they felt their souls went out seeking the strayed soul of a patient” (Kehoe

2000:52). In short, Kehoe’s argument that Huichol adepts aren’t real

shamans boils down to her old maxim that shamans use hand drums

and don’t use psychoactives.

Because Kehoe’s anti-psychotropic bias flies in the face of ethno-

graphic documentation, I suspect that her attacks on the use of “drugs”

in New World shamanisms may have been prompted by the contemporary

popularity of psychoactives—particularly peyote, ayahuasca, and mush-

rooms—within neoshamanic cultures. The irrationality of Kehoe’s bias

can be seen in the fact that she blames Eliade for promoting interest in New

World shamanic cultures—despite his prejudice against psychoactives

and his limited knowledge of New World shamanisms. Kehoe (2000:65)

charges, “It seems to be the popularity of Mircea Eliade’s book that led to

the label ‘shaman’ for the Central and South American ritualists, disre-

garding the vital differences between them and Siberian shamans.”

At one point, Kehoe mocks Furst and Myerhoff for borrowing the Siberian

term shaman from Eliade and applying it to the Huichol mara’akame don

Ramón. If Kehoe was familiar with Huichol ethnography, she might realize

that the link between mara’akame and shamans predated Eliade’s book by

decades: the Swedish ethnographer Carl Lumholtz (1902:237-238) refers

to Huichol mara’akate as shamans, and Robert M. Zingg (1938:202) refers

to the mara’akate as “singing-prophesying shamans.” I suggest that the

chants performed by Huichol mara’akame may be functionally similar to

the epic chants performed by Siberian shamans, and even Kehoe admits

the mara’akame perform doctoring rituals and ecstatic seances that

parallel the seances of Siberia. Since there may be as many similarities

between Huichol and Siberian shamans as between Tungus and Koryak

shamans, I see no problem in calling them all shamans.

Selecting Discriminating Terms

I can understand Kehoe’s concern that the casual use of undefined

labels—such as shaman and shamanism—in the popular press can

distort our understanding of past and present cultures. For example, Kehoe

(2000:53-54) mentions Martin Prechtel’s perspective that the Guatemalan


Notes

1. I am not suggesting that Kehoe’s Shamans and Religion is without

merit—it certainly raises some provocative challenges to Eliade’s

latent romanticism and his tendency to indulge in superlatives and

overgeneralizations. For example, Kehoe (2000:3) may be justified

in accusing Eliade of perpetuating “the stereotype of distant primi-

tive savages preserving a pure primordial religion lost to alienated

educated civilized men.” Kehoe (2000:22) is also probably justified

in charging that Western anthropologists have tended to indulge in

unconscious racism and that they have been “accustomed to dismiss

colonized nations as ‘untutored savages.’”

2. See my “Open Dialogue” article critiquing Explore Shamanism by

Alby Stone in Shaman’s Drum #66, 2004, pp. 16-18, and my review

of Shamanism (The Shaman) by Piers Vitebsky in Shaman’s Drum

#58, 2001, p. 66.

3. I consider myself to be an amateur on the subject of Siberian

shamanology. My only trump card over Eliade and Kehoe is that I

have actively explored shamanic healing traditions as a participant-

observer for more than twenty-five years, and my firsthand experi-

ences as a shamanic practitioner have greatly enhanced my under-

standing of shamanic processes.

Since personal biases do influence our observations and interpre-

tations, I will briefly outline my background and some of my own

biases. As someone who was called to the shamanic path through

spontaneous dreams and who was later inspired by casual and ritual

encounters with entheogens, I am convinced that the ability to enter

transpersonal ecstatic states is potentially available to all humans—

regardless of their race, language, or cultural upbringing. How far

any individual develops this shamanic ability depends on many

factors—his or her innate psychic abilities, personal motivations,

social frameworks, life experiences, and access to relevant teach-

ings. As an advocate dedicated to encouraging the practice of various

forms of shamanism, my interest is in understanding the practice

of shamanisms from an experiential and functional perspective.

to qualify their use of the term. Shirokogoroff (1935:344) writes: “Among

the Tungus of Manchuria there is a sharp distinction between the clan

shamans, called mokun sama (Bir. Kum.)—‘the clan shaman’—and inde-

pendent shamans, called dona saman—‘the foreign (alien) shaman.’” In a

similar way, the Manchu differentiated between the p’oyun saman, who

performed priestly clan rituals, and the amba saman, who conducted

individual rituals.

Shirokogoroff’s observations may offer ethnographers and shamanolo-

gists a creative way out of the quagmire of multiple associations linked to

the term shaman. I recommend that we continue using shaman as a broad

anthropological term, much as it has been used for several centuries in

Western anthropological literature. In those cases where scholars feel the

need to restrict their use of the term to avoid inappropriate connotations,

they can always specify certain types of shamans—Siberian shamans,

Turkic shamans, divining shamans, or sucking shamans—or use specific

ethnic names—Tungus saman, Huichol mara’akame, or Tukano payé.

Having participated for over twenty years in the debate over describing

and defining shamans, I can relate to Kehoe’s frustration regarding the

indiscriminate use of the term—however, I wouldn’t lay the blame at

Eliade’s feet. In fact, Eliade (1964:3) complains about misunderstandings

and confusion created by the indiscriminate use of the terms shaman,

medicine man, sorcerer, and magician, and he proposes that it might be

“advantageous to restrict the use of the words ‘shaman’ and ‘shamanism,’

precisely to avoid misunderstandings.”

Not being an academic, I am not overly attached to the idea of needing

a standard definition of shaman. Scholars have been defining and

refining the term for centuries, and I sincerely doubt that those defini-

tions have deepened the practice of shamanisms one iota. However, I do

grow concerned when restrictive definitions and dogmatic creeds are used

to dismiss good ethnography and limit innovative exploration. In some

respects, today’s academic debates over the definitions of shaman and

shamanism remind me of the early Christian council debates over theo-

logical issues—debates that eventually resulted in the adoption of offi-

cial creeds and dogma, which led, in turn, to the physical persecution

of persons with opposing viewpoints. I agree it may be useful to test and

probe our theoretical understandings of shamanic practices, but I think it

is even more vital to recognize and celebrate the incredible variety of New

and Old World shamanisms.


There is one ethnographic discrepancy that has confused some

scholars. According to Wasson, A. muscaria users eating seven to

twelve mushrooms typically fell into deep ecstatic sleep for several

hours, during which they experienced inspiring visionary dreams.

In contrast, most accounts suggest that, during actual kamlanie,

shamans typically only ate a couple of mushrooms, and they collapsed

for only short periods. From personal experience, I can testify that

eating a couple of A. muscaria mushrooms enables one to feel a shift

in consciousness but still allows one to retain conscious control.

Although I have not personally experienced the ecstatic visions asso-

ciated with heavy doses of A. muscaria, other Westerners have.

8. The situation in Siberia bears certain parallels to the way diverse

Native American cultures have been mistakenly treated as if they were

homogenous. For example, we know that sweat-lodge ceremonies—

ranging from Lakota inipi ceremonies to Mesoamerican temascal

purifications—have been held in many parts of the Americas, but

it is also clear that not all sweat lodges follow the ritual procedures

of Lakota lodges. In much the same way, we should not expect all

Siberian kamlanie to match the ritual procedures used by Tungus or

Koryak shamans.

9. Although Kehoe champions use of single-headed drums as a hallmark

of shamanizing, she curiously argues—based on French anthropolo-

gist Gilbert Rouget’s cross-cultural study of “trance music”—that

there is no clinical evidence that drumming automatically triggers

trances. Rouget may be technically correct when he concludes that

trance music doesn’t automatically induce trances, but I think Kehoe

exaggerates his findings when she states: “Trance music in one society

has no effect on people from other societies unfamiliar with that

music’s ritual” (2000:51). Many Western shamanic practitioners have

found that various types of shamanic music—Tuvan khöömei throat

singing, Balinese chanting, and Aboriginal didjeridu droning—can

enhance imaginal journeys. In my own shamanic work, I have found

that drumming and chanting help induce trances; more importantly,

they help sustain the focus of trances.

Following the example of Siberian shamans who readily borrowed

techniques and methodologies from neighboring shamans and tradi-

tions, I look for insights that may be applied cross-culturally.

4. Kehoe’s reference list, while short on studies of Siberian shaman-

isms, revealingly includes many philosophical texts dealing with

theoretical anthropological issues, plus various books critical of the

usurpation of Native cultures by non-Natives (Deloria 1998; Dilworth

1996; and Kuper 1988).

5. Dreams play an important role in many Siberian cultures, as in

many parts of the world. For example, Bogoraz (1907:490) indicates

that dreams played an important role among the Chukchi, and he

(1907:419) mentions the case of a Chukchi shaman who was called to

shamanize in a dream.

6. Karjalainen also relates a firsthand account of a seance conducted

by a Vasyugan “fly-agaric soothsayer”: ”Towards evening, he ate two

and a half panx [fly-agaric mushrooms] and slept for a little while;

after awakening, he sat down in the corner of the birch-bark yurt

and began tossing, keeping his eyes closed and shaking his body to

and fro. The intoxication did not seem to be very strong, since after

he stopped singing, he was able to speak clearly with the spectators

and take snuff into his nose. He continued singing in this way until

morning, narrating the events of his journey…” (quoted in Wasson

1971:284).

7. Based on the evidence that A. muscaria (fly agaric) was used as an

inebriant in some Siberian kamlanie, I suggest that the collapse

sequence found in many forms of kamlanie could be based on ritual-

ized patterns of A. muscaria intoxication. I find it most interesting

that the ritual “collapse and concentration” sequence referred to

by Kehoe was found in many circumboreal cultures, including the

Koryak, Samoyed, and Sami, that were known to use A. muscaria.

Similar sequences are found in other cultures that may have previ-

ously used A. muscaria.


References

Alekseev, Nikolai A. 1990. “Shamanism Among the Turkic

People of Siberia.” In Shamanism: Soviet Studies of

Traditional Religion in Siberia and Central Asia, ed. by M.

M. Balzer. Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe, pp. 49-109.

Balzer, Marjorie Mandelstam. 1990. Shamanism:

Soviet Studies of Traditional Religion in Siberia and

Central Asia. Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe.

———. 1995. “The Poetry of Shamanism.” In Shamanism

in Performing Arts, ed. by Tae-gon Kim and Mihály

Hoppál. Budapest, Hungary: Akadémiai Kiadó.

———. 1997. Shamanic Worlds: Rituals and Lore of Siberia

and Central Asia. Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe.

Basilov, Vladimir N. 1989. “Bowed Musical Instruments.”

In Nomads of Eurasia, ed. by V. Basilov. Seattle, WA:

University of Washington Press, pp. 153-158.

———. 1990. “Chosen by the Spirits.” In Shamanism: Soviet

Studies of Traditional Religion in Siberia and Central Asia, ed.

by M. M. Balzer. Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe, pp. 3-48.

Bogoraz, Waldemar. 1907. The Chukchee. Washington, DC:

Memoirs of the American Museum of Natural History.

Deloria, Philip J. 1998. Playing Indian. New

Haven, CT: Yale University Press.

Dilworth, Leah. 1996. Imagining Indians in the Southwest.

Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press.

10. Flaherty (1992) reproduces illustrations from an eighteenth-century

book by Georgi, showing a Tungus, a Krasnoyarsk, and a Bratsk

shaman wearing special costumes decorated with animal skins,

ribbons, and various pendants. Diószegi (1998b) indicates that

Yakut, Tuvan, and Nganasan shamans in particular liked to deco-

rate their costumes with pendants, metal rings, animal skins,

and plaited ribbons (representing snakes), and that Darkhat, Tofa,

Telengit, Tuba, and Uigur shamans wore special feathered head-

dresses adorned with stylized human faces.

11. Jonathan Ott (1993:335-337) describes historical and contemporary

reports of the effects of Amanita muscaria usage, and he surveys

the experiences of intentional versus unintentional users. Ott

reports that there have been only two verified deaths from eating fly

agarics, one from A. muscaria and one from A. pantherina, and in

both cases the persons were elderly and infirm. British mystic Clark

Heinrich (1994:15), an experienced user of A. muscaria, reports that

the mushroom produces euphoric and visionary effects, but it can

cause nausea, vomiting, “rivers of perspiration,” visual distortions,

increased salivation, and, more rarely, deep comalike sleep.


———. 1928. The Yukaghir. Washington, DC: Memoirs

of the American Museum of Natural History.

———. 1933. The Yakut. Washington, DC: Memoirs

of the American Museum of Natural History.

Kehoe, Alice Beck. 2000. Shamans and Religion: An Anthropological

Exploration in Critical Thinking. Prospect Heights, IL: Waveland Press.

Kuper, Adam. 1988. The Invention of Primitive

Society. London, England: Routledge.

Laufer, Berthold. 1917. “Origin of the Word Shaman.”

In American Anthropologist, vol. 19.

Lumholtz, Carl. 1902. Unknown Mexico. New

York, NY: Scribner’s and Sons.

Ott, Jonathan. 1993. Pharmacotheon.

Kennewick, WA: Natural Products Co.

Reichel-Dolmatoff, Gerardo. 1971. Amazonian Cosmos:

The Sexual and Religious Symbolism of the Tukano

Indians. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.

———. 1972. “The Cultural Context of an Aboriginal Hallucinogen:

Banisteriopsis Caapi.” In Flesh of the Gods: The Ritual Use of

Hallucinogens, ed. by P. Furst. New York, NY: Praeger, pp. 84-113.

Rouget, Gilbert. 1985. Music and Trance: A Theory of the Relations

between Music and Possession. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press.

Shirokogoroff, Sergei M. 1935. Psychomental Complex of the Tungus

(Parts I and II). London, England: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner & Co.

Diószegi, Vilmos. 1998a. “Shamanism.” In Shamanism:

Selected Writings of Vilmos Diószegi., ed. by M. Hoppál.

Budapest, Hungary: Akadémiai Kiadó, pp. 1-9.

———. 1998b. “Problems of Mongolian Shamanism: Report

on an Expedition Made in 1960 in Mongolia.” In Shamanism:

Selected Writings of Vilmos Diószegi, ed. by M. Hoppál.


Donner, Kai. 1933. “Ethnological Notes about the Yenisey-Ostyak in the

Turukhansk Region.” In Soma: Divine Mushroom of Immortality by R. G.

Wasson. 1971. New York, NY: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, pp. 286-287.

———. 1954. Among the Samoyed in Siberia. New

Haven, CT: Human Relations Area Files.

Dossey, Larry. 2004. “Think Globally, Act Non-locally: Consciousness

beyond Time and Space.” In Ecological Medicine, ed. by Kenny

Ausubel. San Francisco, CA: Sierra Club Books, pp. 209-222.

Eliade, Mircea. 1964. Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of

Ecstasy. Princeton, NJ: Bollingen/Princeton University Press.

Flaherty, Gloria. 1992. Shamanism and the Eighteenth

Century. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

Heinrich, Clark. 1994. Strange Fruit: Alchemy, Religion and Magical

Foods, A Speculative History. London, England: Bloomsbury.

Hoppál, Mihály (ed.). 1998. Shamanism: Selected Writings of

Vilmos Diószegi. Budapest, Hungary: Akadémiai Kiadó.

Jochelson, Waldemar. 1908. The Koryak. Washington, DC:

Memoirs of the American Museum of Natural History.

406 Spirit Talkers

Siikala, Anna-Leena, and Mihály Hoppál. 1992. Studies on

Shamanism. Budapest, Hungary: Akadémiai Kiadó.

Stewart, Omer C. 1987. Peyote Religion: A History.

Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press.

Van Deusen, Kira. 2004. Singing Story, Healing

Drum: Shamans and Storytellers of Turkic Siberia.

Seattle, WA: University of Washington Press.

Vasilevic, G. M. 1996. “The Acquisition of Shamanistic Ability

among the Evenki (Tungus).” In Folk Beliefs and Shamanistic

Traditions in Siberia, edited by V. Diószegi and M. Hoppál.


Wasson, R. Gordon. 1971 (1968). Soma: Divine Mushroom of

Immortality. New York, NY: Harcourt Brace Javonovich.

———. 1980. The Wondrous Mushroom: Mycolatry

in Mesoamerica. New York, NY: McGraw-Hill.

White, Timothy. 2004. “Enchanted Realms of a Zapotec

Curandero,” Shaman’s Drum, no. 66, pp. 38-47.

Zingg, Robert M. 1938. The Huichols: Primitive

Artists. New York, NY: G. E. Stechert.

Znamenski, Andrei A. 2003. Shamanism in Siberia:

Russian Records of Indigenous Spirituality. Dordrecht,

Netherlands: Kluwer Academic Publishers.

Endnotes Page 407

End Notes

Chapter One End Notes

1. Dawkins 2006:36

2. Harner 1999:6

3. Work 1924:520

4. e.g., Jewell 1987:148

5. Reagan 1937:12

6. Wallace 1896:82-106

7. Wallace 1896:vi-vii

8. Wallace 1896:125

9. Eisley 1979:21

10. Blum 2006:72-73

11. Jon Marcus, Associated Press writer for San

Francisco Examiner. Do internet search for: John

Mack alien-sex professor Jon Marcus .

12. Mack 1999:6

13. Mack 1999:7

14. Mack 1999:136

15. Harpur 1995:64

16. Steward 1960:331

17. Blum 2006: 204, 221

18. Fenton 1959:667

19. Neihardt 1972:229 (First appeared in the introduction

to the Pocket Book edition of Black Elk Speaks.)

20. Richards 1982:4

21. See Sorrat by John T. Richards for details

of Neihardt’s experiments.

22. Wheeler 1982:4

23. Wang 2000, search Google for later papers

on superluminal light propagation

24. Gingerich 2004:64, 144

Spirit Talkers Endnotes Page 409

54. Harner 1980:52

55. Burton 1909:83

56. de Laguna 1972:702

57. e.g., Opler 1941:202

58. Sapir 1907:42, Spier 1930:35; Spier and Sapir 1930:245

59. Boyd 1996:119

60. Moerman 1998:194-195

61. Strong 1929:173

62. Kelley 1939:156

63. Samuel Purchas in Rountree 1989:131

64. Wolf 1991:27

65. Wolf 1991:27

66. Walker 1977:61

67. e.g., Spencer 1952:218

68. Speck 1917a:15

69. Narby 1998:132

70. Walker 2000:264-265

71. Brunton 2007:20

72. Roseman 1963:38

73. Witherspoon 1975:69

74. Witherspoon 1975:76

75. Honigmann 1946:77

76. Fletcher 1898:579, also see Fletcher 1897

77. e.g., Beckham et. al. 1984:19, Smithson and

Euler 1964:10, Stern 1934:75-76

78. Hall 1906:440-441, Riddle 1960:63,

Romero 1954:4, Spier 1938:165

79. Merker 1991:22

80. Dixon 1905:277

81. Harner 2000:22

82. Layritz 1977:575

83. Walker 2000:272

84. Walker 2000:272

85. Walker 2000:274-275

86. Walker 2000:274

25. Walker 2000:5

26. Zukav 1980:85-86

27. Mermin 1985:38

28. Born 1971:149

29. Mermin 1985:41

30. Walker 2000:113

31. Walker 2000:130-131

32. Walker 2000:132, 137

33. See Bohm 1986 for his view on the observer effect.

34. When speaking of the observer effect there are two different

languages in use, depending on whose mathematical

formulation is applied. If using Schrödinger’s equations

one speaks in terms of the collapse of a probability

wave, and if using Heisenberg’s equations one speaks

in terms of the collapse of a state vector. I have opted to

use Heisenberg’s terminology throughout this book.

35. Radin 1997

36. Walsh 2007:35

37. Young 1989

38. Walker 2000:335

39. Walker 2000:37

40. Wheeler 1982:18

41. Spencer 1977:352

42. See Walker 1970, 1972, 1972-73

43. Walker 1977:65

44. Walker 1977:67-68

45. Walker 2004: personal communication

46. Walker 2000:Chapter 12

47. Wolf 1991

48. Wolf 1991:30

49. Eliade 1964

50. e.g., Swanton in Barbeau 1958:65

51. Swanton in Barbeau 1958:65

52. Burton 1909:80

53. Neher 1961


26. Work 1924:520

27. Whipple 1899:35-36

28. Brainerd in Stlyes 1812:216

29. Bowden 1981:194-195

30. Buchanan 1824:vol.2:38-39, also in Haines 1888:404-405

31. Heckewelder 1876:231

32. Moore 1982:80

33. Rainey 1947:275

34. Riggs 1869:88-89

35. Gookin 1970:20-21

36. Pijart in Moore 1982:86

37. Le June in Kenton 1927:vol.1:318

38. Point in De Smet 1985:32

39. e.g. W.M. 1976:vol. 2:59

40. Lafortune 1926:11

41. Seton 1937:37-38

42. Beckwith 1889:245, Boas 1923;18, de Laguna 1972:717,

John Lawson in Harriss 1937:231, Hearne 1911:211-

212, 228-230, Lamb 1957:199-200, Randolph 1973:47-

48, De la Vente in Swanton 1911:83, Dumont in

Swanton 1911:80, Rountree 1989:126-127

43. e.g., Parker 1928:10

44. McLaughlin 1891:114

45. Irving 1888:223

46. Cass in Schoolcraft 1857:20

47. Hoffman 1896:105

48. Ogden 1995:31-32

49. Brackenridge in DeLand 1906:421

50. Will 1928:56

51. Wissler 1938:123

52. e.g. Hill-Tout 1903:358

53. Handleman 1968:353

54. Sharp 2001:95

55. Dusenberry 1962:128

56. Jilek 1982b:329

87. Lewis and Jordon 2002:63-64

88. Lummis 1915:80

89. Lummis 1915:83

90. Lummis 1915:84-85

91. Lummis 1915:85

92. Lummis 1915:86

93. Lummis 1915:86

94. Lummis 1915:89

Chapter Two End Notes

1. Spinden 1933:72

2. Hanke 1937:65

3. Hanke 1937:69-70

4. Hanke 1937:72

5. Hanke 1937:72

6. Zuern 1998:40

7. Hanke 1937:72

8. Mann in McWhorter 1913:31, Milanich 1996:189

10. Mark 1980:93

11. Thwaites 1897

12. Domenech in Haines 1888:388

13. Gookin 1970:19

14. Heywood Seton-Karr in Jonaitis 1983:42

15. Jonaitis 1983:42, see also Krause 1956:194

16. Catlin 1857:69

17. e.g., Haines 1888:386

18. e.g., Will and Spinden 1906:134

19. Riggs 1880:265

20. Ravoux 1897:5

21. Bidney 1960:370

22. Hultkrantz 1967a:17

23. e.g., Honigmann 1946:132-133, Assu and Inglis 1989:86

24. Potter 1886:67

25. e.g., Grant 1984:34, Speck 1935a:3


83. DeMallie 1984:48


85. DeMallie 1984:296

86. Neihardt in McCluskey 1972:238

87. Mails 1997:341

88. Neihardt 1972:229

89. DeMallie 1984:224

90. Neihardt 1932:178-179

91. Holler 1984b:35

92. Walsh 2007:34

93. Turner 2004:73

94. Turner 2003:150

95. Turner 2003:146, 148

96. Stevenson 1904:501, 529, 437

97. Stevenson 1904:500

98. Bunzel 1932:532

99. Gilman in Tedlock 1980:8

100. Troyer 1913:24

101. Troyer 1913:26-27

102. Parsons 1922:191

103. Cushing in Green 1979:210 (First published in 1897 in

Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society 36:184-192.)

104. Troyer 1913:29

105. Densmore 1927:86


107. de Vesme 1931:98

108. de Vesme 1931:163-179

109. de Vesme 1931:270

110. Castro in Bunte and Franklin 1987:144

111. e.g., de Laguna 1960:58, Fletcher 1897:332

Chapter Three End Notes

1. Chipps 2001:32 Victoria Chipps is the mother of Godfrey Chips.

2. Simmons 1942:5

57. The Sun Dances of today differ in intent from the Plains

Sun Dances of the 1800s. Records from that time period

clearly indicate that persons would make a vow to perform

the dance when pleading for supernatural aid in times of

danger. If aid was received, the person would perform the

dance. Consequently, it was not necessarily an annual

performance. See Grinnell 1914:246-247 and Beals 1935:16

58. e.g., Skinner 1919:313

59. Hultkrantz 1966:98

60. Hill-Tout 1903:413

61. Mark 1980:101

62. Cushing 1920:11

63. Bunzel 1932:525

64. Leighton and Adair 1966:50, Parsons 1927:108

65. Wissler 1938:124

66. Stefànsson 1914:223

67. Salzer 1972:110

68. Devereux 1956:24, Kroeber 1940:215

69. Boyer 1969, Jilek 1971, Jilek 1982a:130-132, Lopez

1978:109, Opler 1959:102, Spencer 1977:352

70. Nequatewa 1947:122-123

71. Long 1948:11

72. Long 1948:11

73. Long 1948:11

74. Long 1936:58

75. Long 1936:51

76. Long 1948:14

77. Long 1936:53-58

78. Long 1936:59

79. Alexander 1910:13

80. Neihardt 1972:229 William & Morrow ended up

remaindering the book at forty-five cents a copy, which

now sells for $600+ in a nice copy with a dust jacket.




37. Bunzel 1932:481

38. Nabokov 1991:119

39. Nabokov 1991:145

40. Johnson 1891:201

41. e.g. Waugh and Prithipaul 1979:8-9

42. Chased By Bears in Densmore 1918:95-96

43. La Barre 1970:77

44. Boas 1897:663

45. Dunsenberry 1962:175

46. Rodnick 1938:13

47. Slotkin 1956:65 (reprint 1972:521)

48. Schultes 1938:698

49. Shonle 1925:53

50. Opler 1936:144

51. Aberle 1966a:193

52. Snyder 1969:17

53. Stewart 1987:221-222

54. Petrullo 1934

55. Horgan 2003:220

56. Bucke 1901

57. Underhill 1911

58. Huxley 1944

59. Laing 1967

60. Prince and Savage 1966

61. Ouspensky 1949

62. Maslow 1964

63. White 1972:xiii

64. Wyman, Hill and Ósanai 1942:12


66. Jilek 1982b:339

67. Schwartz 1985:105

68. Highwater 1981:82

69. Speck 1907:134

70. Bunzel 1932:480

71. Stevenson 1904:22, 416

3. Simmons 1942:99

4. Brown 1977:106

5. Densmore in Hofmann 1968:80, 108

6. Roberts 1936:9

7. Nettl 1989:97

8. Merriam 1967:9

9. Nettl 1989:98

10. Edelman 2000:214

11. Edelman 2000:214

12. Wilber 1995:204-205


14. Hamer 2004, see also Time Magazine

cover story for October 25, 2004

15. Dorsey 1894:365

16. Baner in Atanoqken 1933:46

17. Boyle 1898:73

18. Chamberlain 1913:12

19. Green 1990:346

20. Chamberlain 1913:12

21. Grinnell 1900:7

22. Eastman 1911:88-89

23. Sharp 2001:67

24. Dorsey and Voth 1901:11

25. Titiev 1972:2

26. Mails and Evehema 1995:260

27. Titiev 1972:34

28. e.g., Opler 1959:103

29. Buchanan 1824:v.2:136

30. Buchanan 1824:v.2:140

31. Beauchamp 1907:394

32. Maslow 1964:49

33. Baner in Atanoqken 1933:46

34. Cox 1895:167

35. De Angelo 1926:353

36. Todd in Nichols 1930:98 or Todd 1913:171


24. Zeisberger 1910:132-133

25. Skinner 1925b:64

26. Dixon 1908:2

27. Olson 1936:141

28. Lamb 1957:229

29. Barbeau 1923:80

30. Newcomb, Jr. 1956:62

31. Lisiansky 1968:209

32. Hines 1991:48

33. Spier 1930:112

34. Jenness 1938:70

35. Turney-High 1937:27

36. Jenness 1935:60

37. Barnouw 1950:24

38. Schmalz 1991:10

39. Schaeffer 1958:9

40. Goodwin and Kaut 1954:386

41. Gayton 1930:372

42. Pedro Wright in Du Bois 1939:69

43. Dixon 1908:3

44. Park 1938:10

45. e.g., Smith 1901:260

46. Gayton 1930:389

47. Elmendorf 1984:281

48. Nomland 1931:38

49. Nomland 1938:95

50. Jameson 1839:143-144

51. Meyer 1985:40

52. e.g., Jenness 1935:67

53. Skinner 1915c:194

54. Smoking Star in Wissler 1922:59

55. Dixon 1905:282

56. Radin 1923:256

57. Jenness 1935:68

58. Gifford 1932b:236


73. Tyler 1964:254

74. Brinton 1896:67, Spier 1930:101

75. James 1908:39

76. Troyer 1913:25


78. Thatcher 1839:v.1:29-30

79. Cope 1919:129

80. Martin 1999:5

Chapter Four End Notes

1. Brown 1953:115

2. Bourke 1891:419

3. Jetté 1911:95

4. e.g., Boyle 1898:73, Bunzel 1932:480, Perdue 1985:15

5. Dugan 1985:235

6. Buckley 2002:10

7. Schoolcraft 1851:67

8. Deloria 1944:60

9. Schwartz 1985:103

10. Voget 2001:707

11. Phillips 1896:vi

12. e.g., Issacs 1977:180

13. Parker 1926:76

14. James 1903:82

15. Bourke 1891:419

16. Laski 1957:76,84

17. Leighton and Leighton 1941:518

18. Troyer n.d.:1

19. Nichols 1930:95

20. Bunzel 1932:544

21. Dugan 1985:85

22. e.g. Garfield 1939:299-303

23. Murdock 1965:167


94. Gill 1977b:160

95. Haile 1947b:10-11

96. Parsons 1929b:239

97. Radin 1911:153

98. Dixon 1905:279

99. Belden 1870:35

100. e.g., Hultkrantz 1992:52

101. Green 1979:127

102. Underhill 1938:2

103. Driver and Massey 1957:315, Lopatin 1960:987-989

104. Densmore 1910:25-26

105. Reichard 1939:xv

106. Gill 1981:64, Stevenson 1891:251

107. e.g., Lee 1992:252

108. e.g., Bogoras 1909:416

109. de Laguna 1972:660

110. Ritzenthaler 1953a:152

111. e.g. Hurt and Howard 1952:288

112. e.g., Gaudin 1942:84, Denton in Speck 1937:8

113. Johnson 1969:129

114. Harrington 1914:158

115. Ruth Jacobs in Du Bois 1938:13

116. Howard 1954b:172

117. Halpern and McGreevy 1997:63

118. Kroeber 1940:206

119. e.g., Schoolcraft 1854:489

120. Boas 1930:277-278

121. Merker 1985:87-88

122. Mails 1979:185-186

123. Mails 1979:152

124. Gilman 1908:66

125. e.g., Schweinfurth 2002:117

126. Spier 1938:165

127. Olson 1961:210


60. Steinmetz 1990:185, Steltenkamp 1993:23

61. Brown 2001:98-99

62. Rice 1991:xi, Holler 1984a:43

63. Speck 1935b:138

64. Speck 1937:17-18

65. Herzog 1928:456

66. Hewitt 1902:35

67. Speck 1935b:184

68. e.g., Spier 1930:137

69. Radin 1914a:211

70. Buckley 2002:107

71. Fletcher and La Flesche 1893:12

72. Parker 1928:9

73. Whiteley 1998:127

74. Beauchamp 1922:35

75. e.g., Drucker 1937:256

76. Boas 1925:133-135

77. Reagan 1905:277

78. Lynd 1889:171

79. Dorsey 1894:391

80. Raitt 1987

81. Holt 1946:333

82. Parsons 1919:446

83. Bunzel 1932:506

84. Riggs 1869:77

85. e.g., Haile 1947b:1-2

86. Matthews in Halpern and McGreevy 1997:241


88. Haile 1947a:10-11


90. Haile 1947b:1-2

91. Wyman 1983:45

92. Voth 1901:75-79, 85

93. Schenk 1988:236


9. Mooney and Olbrechts 1932:67-68

10. Rasmussen 1931:273

11. e.g., Merker 1985:228

12. e.g., Issacs 1977:170-171

13. Lantis 1947:88, n. 24

14. Harrison 1925:109

15. e.g., Speck 1935a:9

16. Swanton 1924:364

17. e.g., Thalbitzer 1914:85-86

18. Pasztory 1982:9,14

19. Henshaw 1885:107-108

20. Barbeau 1958:7

21. e.g, Ranson 1945:347

22. Merriam 1910:211

23. e.g., Brown in MacDonald & Cove 1987:v.1:138

24. Maclean 1961:4

25. Rhodes 1956:99

26. Rasmussen 1929:184

27. Wash Fan in Du Bois 1935:102

28. Potter 1886:67

29. Osgood 1937:176

30. Sturtevant 1954b:41

31. Du Bois 1935:95

32. Dorsey 1894:416

33. Du Bois 1935:83

34. Du Bois 1935:84, Landes 1968:170


36. Lake 1982:87

37. e.g., Jones 1969:12, Kelley 1932:191

38. Beckham et. al 1984:18, Du Bois 1935:91,

Harrington 1914:158, Honigmann 1954:106,

Salzer 1972:135, Sapir and Spier 1943:282

39. Sturtevant 1954b:34

40. Converse 1908:105-106

41. Boyle 1898:121-126, Witthoft 1949:22

128. e.g., Kelly 1932:194, Kelly 1939:158,

Spott and Kroeber 1942:162

129. Jones 1968:3

130. Dall 1970:423

131. Merker 1985:110-111

132. Stewart 1946:325

133. de Laguna 1972:682

134. Densmore 1929:45

135. Gill 1981:185-186

136. Herzog 1935:403


138. Alexander 1910:43-44

139. Long 1977:45

140. Mead 1977:50

141. Gill 1977a:143

142. Rosenblum and Kuttner 2006

143. Rosenblum and Kuttner 2006:192


145. Buckley 2002:13

Chapter Five End Notes

1. Kohl 1985:440-441

2. The Shaking Tent ceremony is the most widespread shamanic

ceremony known in North America. Believed to have

originated among the Ojibwa in the northern Great Lakes

region, it was first recorded in 1609. It is so named because

the tent into which the medicine man is placed shakes

violently upon the entry and exit of his helping spirits.

3. Ritzenthaler 1953b:203-204

4. Speck and Broom 1983:37

5. Mooney and Olbrechts 1932:132

6. Benson 1860:247

7. Kilpatrick and Kilpatrick 1967b:29

8. Kilpatrick and Kilpatrick 1967b:III


69. Catherine in Schoolcraft 1848:172-173

70. Swanton 1908a:582-584

71. Grinnell 1962:169-170

72. Densmore 1918:210

73. Olson 1961:211

74. Du Bois 1939:4

75. Howard 1953:608

76. Flannery 1940:16

77. Jonas King in Jenness 1935:68

78. Hale 1886:205

79. e.g., Bourke 1891:425-426, Opler 1941:344

80. Wissler 1938:125

81. Densmore 1913:91, Rodnick 1938:44, Smith 1938:435

82. e.g., Bancroft-Hunt 1995:147, Cushman 1899:38

83. McGinnis 1990:112

84. Benedict 1932:15

85. Ewers 1955:179 gives a detailed list of various forms of war

medicines, Aquila 1974:24 gives nine forms for the Plains Area

86. Barrett 1906:188

87. Riggs 1880:270

88. Linderman 1930:40

89. Linderman 1930:34

90. Linderman 1930:35-44

91. e.g., Sjoberg 1991:362

92. Lowie 1935:170

93. Wissler 1907:30


95. Wissler 1912b:29

96. e.g., Densmore 1913:112

97. Grinnell 1910:546

98. Olden 1923:25

99. Skinner 1914b:493

100. Hall 1906:443

101. Schmalz 1991:8

102. Radin 1928:667

42. Smith 1925:118, Turney-High 1941:185

43. Gifford n.d. a:27-28

44. Kilpatrick and Kilpatrick 1967a:38-39

45. William Beynon in Garfield 1966:47

46. Wallis and Wallis 1957:392-393

47. Jack Stewart in Margolin 1992:101

48. Spinden 1908:259

49. e.g., Drury 1958:122-123, Søby 1969:44-45

50. e.g., Jenkins 1939:19-20 on bear hunting

51. Fletcher 1895:694, note 2

52. Speck 1935a:23

53. Skinner 1914c:203

54. Søby 1969:51-52

55. Beaglehole 1936:5

56. e.g. de Laguna and McClellan 1981:647, Fahey

1986:35, Eneas Granjo in Johnson 1969:65, Olbrechts

1930:551, Olden 1918:99, Wissler 1913:440

57. Beals 1933:384,388, Cushing in Green 1979:199

58. Hank Pete in Freed and Freed 1963:53

59. Riddell 1960:71, Swanton 1908b:447, Voegelin 1936:17

60. Dorsey 1905:2

61. Boas 1898:148

62. Turner 1993:17

63. Turner 1993:18-19

64. Browne 1866:115 (repeated in Stockwell 1883:1222)

65. Skinner 1915b:770

66. S.H. in Olson 1936:155

67. e.g. Webber in Armitage 1991:57, Beckham et. al. 1984:18-

19, Antelope in Deloria 1967:16-17, Densmore 1957:176,

Gifford 1932a:50, Grinnell 1923:267-268, Charles Padani in

Howard 1984:138, Johnson 1969:65, de Laguna 1972:662,

Lowie 1939:324-324, Nelson 1983:22, Wolf Chief in Pepper

and Wilson 1908:315, Schlesier 1987:52-53, Turner 1894:196-

197, Turney-High 1937:36, Wissler 1912a:204-209

68. Harrod 2000:82


131. Aleshire 2000:323, unidentified informant in Opler 1941:40

132. Betzinez 1959:90, unidentified informant in Opler 1941:200

133. unidentified informant in Opler 1941:216

134. Bancroft-Hunt 1995:127

135. unidentified informant in Opler 1941:344

136. Hinman 1976:2

137. Sandoz 1942:104-105

138. Black Elk in Neihardt 1932:85-86

139. Red Feather in Hinman 1976:31

140. He Dog in Hinman 1976:13

141. Neihardt 1932:86

142. Bray 2006:67

143. Smith 1938:444

144. Bancroft-Hunt 1995:183-184,187, Bourke

1891:436, Opler 1941:344, Powell 1960:29, Radin

1928:667, Schmaltz 1991:8, Smith 1938:439

145. Russell 1904:120

146. e.g., Buchanan 1824:vol.2:39-49, Heckewelder

1876:229, Riddell 1955:96, Rountree 1989:132,

Hitchcock in Swanton 1928:630

147. Rain Thunder Bird in Tarasoff 1980:97-98

148. Hines 1953:10-15

149. e.g., Anderson 1968:7, Hermann in Greene 1972:60,

Kelly 1939:165-166, Margolin 1992:110-111,

Sparkman 1908:217-218, Vanderwerth 1971:148-

148, Wolf Chief in Pepper and Wilson 1908:296

150. Miguel Thomas in Forde 1931:197

151. Boyle 1898:71

152. Kroeber 1925:194, Ogimauwinini in Skinner 1919:314-315

153. Densmore 1942:535

154. Harrington 1896:253, Old Charlie in Osgood

1936:159, Pitdogede in Parsons 1929a:109, Randolph

1973:85-86, Spier 1930:119, Swan 1870:76

155. e.g., Barbeau 1960:276-277, Piudy in Kelly 1932:201,

Tanner 1979:96-98, Turney-High 1937:32

103. Skinner 1925b:67

104. Smith 1938:437, Spier 1930:122

105. Dusenberry 1962:127, Lynd 1889:157-158,

Turney-High 1941:171, Underhill 1939:132


107. e.g., Reichard 1950:270

108. e.g., King-Beaulieu in Smith 1973:19

109. Rountree 1989:133

110. Frank Allen in Elmendorf 1993:142-143,

Goddard 1903:63, Schoolcraft 1854:v.3:491-492,

Skinner 1911:307, Sturtevant 1954a:380

111. Salzer 1972:119

112. Goddard 1916:227:footnote 2

113. Duff 1952:103, Gayton 1930:404, Hines 1993:142,

Sturtevant 1954a:377, Swanton 1928:627

114. Sturtevant 1954a:378


116. Lowie 1909:47

117. Schmaltz 1991:9

118. e.g., Densmore 1913:85, Grinnell 1962:262

119. Boas 1897:394, Boyle 1898:67, Hall 1906:441,

Lowie 1924:295, Sturtevant 1954a:376, J.P. in

Whitman 1937:92, Zeisberger 1910:127

120. e.g., Skinner 1914a:79

121. Grinnell 1908:218

122. McGinnis 1990:114

123. Hoebel 1960:82

124. Opler 1941:310

125. Bray 2006:204-206, Johnson 1891:41, Robinson

1911:188, Seton 1937:14, Utley 1963:26

126. Utley 1963:28

127. Yenne 2008:69

128. Wassell 1894:946

129. Sitting Bull in Cox 1895:208

130. unidentified informant in Opler 1941:40-41, 226



187. Forrest 1961:62

188. Voth 1903:346

189. Voth 1903:348

190. Graves 1929:68-76

191. Boyd 1974:152-156

Chapter Six End Notes

1. Teit 1930:196

2. Opler 1947:7

3. de Laguna 1972, Part II:699

4. e.g., Birket-Smith 1930:66

5. Ellis 1952:148, note 2

6. Fejes 1966:210

7. Carey 1992:137, McClelllan 1956:133

8. Boas 1888:598-599, Nelson 1899:430, Rainey

1947:276, Rasmussen 1929:94-98, 101, 126-127

9. Rainey 1947:277-278

10. Lane 1952:50

11. Margetts 1975:409

12. Harner 2003:personal communication

13. White Wolf 1957:13


15. Black Elk and Lyon 1990:7

16. Mails 1979:161-162

17. Mails 1979:162

18. Jenness 1937:75

19. Jenness 1937:75

20. White Bull in Grinnell 1923:vol. 2, 116-117

21. Lewis and Jordon 2002:37-38

22. Parsons 1929b:121

23. Riddell 1960:71

24. Stefánsson 1914:223

25. Aberle 1966b:229

156. Olson 1936:150

157. The word “poisen” in this early manuscript is thought

to be an English version of the Creek word pof’ketv, to

blow. If that is the case, then it most likely refers to a

healing ceremony where the shaman blows on the patient.

However, if it means to poison, then it most likely refers

to the making of harmful medicine on their enemies.

158. Williams 1973:90-91

159. Swanton 1928:631

160. Wissler 1938:122

161. Speck 1937:91

162. Chipps 2001:14

163. Gill 1981:82

164. Lowie 1909:46

165. Unnamed informant in Kelly 1936:139

166. Charles Kawbawgam in Bourgeois 1994:126

167. Charles Kawbawgam in Bourgeois 1994:127

168. Parsons 1933:19

169. Parsons 1939:440, White 1962:156

170. Bunzel 1932:515

171. Fewkes 1896:690

172. other examples include Dusenberry 1961:21, Wassell 1894:946

173. Jo Hunt in Du Bois 1938:25, Latta 1949:200

174. Kelly 1939:159, 165-166

175. Wolf Chief in Pepper and Wilson 1908:296

176. Du Bois 1935:87

177. Gifford 1936:310

178. Beauchamp 1901:444-445, Keppler 1941:34

179. Speck 1937:70


181. Greenlee in Sturtevant 1954a:403

182. Williams 1973:92

183. Bourke 1884:197

184. Forrest 1961:18

185. Garland in Underhill and Littlefield 1976:15


59. Morgan 1931:391

60. Sandner 1979:121, Stewart 1946:331

61. Kluckhohn and Leighton 1946:148

62. Morgan 1931:392

63. Haile in Bodo 1998:90-92

64. Morgan 1931:394

65. Morgan 1931:395

66. Reichard 1950:99-100

67. Morgan 1931:402


69. Allen in Elmendorf 1993:245


71. Allen in Elmendorf 1993:244-245


73. For the full account see Elmendorf 1993:242-249



76. e.g., see Renier 2005


78. Gayton 1930:375

79. Black Elk and Lyon 1991:163-164

80. Richards 1982:209

81. Stern 1934:77-78

82. Jones 1861:147, also in Haines 1888:405-

407 and Hoffman 1896:143-144

83. Browne 1866:117-118, also in Stockwell 1883:#1187

84. Browne 1866:118, also in Haines 1888:392


86. Wash Fan in Du Bois 1935:92

87. Black Elk and Lyon 1990:169-170

88. Hines 1993:153-158

89. Olbrechts 1930:547-548

90. Olbrechts 1930:548

91. Charles in Du Bois 1935:97

92. de Laguna 1972:697

26. Peek 1991:19

27. Renier 2005: See next to last page in

photo section for FBI report

28. Turney-High 1937:41-42, Rountree 1989:131

29. Basso 1969:28

30. Hallowell 1942:25

31. e.g., Collier 1944:47

32. Spier 1938:152

33. Foster 1941:127

34. Jenness 1924:181

35. Jenness 1922:203, note 1

36. Jenness 1924:182

37. Jenness 1924:203

38. Jenness 1922:203, note 1

39. Averkieva and Sherman 1992:147

40. Armitage 1991:81, Cooper 1936:11-12, 27, Tanner

1979:120-121, Thwaites 1897:v.6:215

41. e.g., Bilby 1923:200

42. John Lawton in Harriss 1937:229

43. Hawkes 1916:132

44. Lynd 1889:156

45. Gelb 1993:101, full account in Haines 1888:396-399

46. Carver in Hoffman 1896:142-143, also in Gelb 1993:102

47. Haines 1888:400-404

48. Strike Enemy in Dorsey 1904:157-159

49. Rountree 1989:13

50. e.g., Smith 1973:153

51. Downs 1961:371

52. Holt 1946:335

53. e.g., Smith 1974:153

54. Schultz 1916:49-58

55. Parsons 1916:170, footnote \o(++)

56. Laird 1974:21-22

57. Kelly 1939:159, 164

58. Parsons 1916:169


128. Thwaites 1897-1905:v.6, 165-167


130. Nelson in Brown and Brightman 1988:43-44

131. Denny 1944:15

132. Nelson in Brown and Brightman 1988:39, 43

133. André in Armitage 1991:82

134. Harry Under Mouse in Schaeffer 1969:11-12


136. Col. Garrick Mallery in Hoffman 1891:276-277

137. Denny 1944:15

Chapter Seven End Notes

1. Whipple 1899:179

2. e.g., Dusenberry 1962:169

3. e.g., Bates 1992:98

4. e.g., Almstedt 1977:8, Codere 1950:58

5. Catlin n.d.: 83

6. e.g., Turquetil 1929:61

7. e.g., Romero 1954:20

8. Moerman 1998

9. Tedlock 2005:137

10. Beardsley 1941:488

11. de Laguna 1972:657

12. e.g., Hagar 1896:174

13. Hagar 1896:176

14. Mooney 1891:339

15. Barrett 1906:24

16. Ritzenthaler 1953b:195-196

17. Moerman 1998:13

18. e.g., Speck 1917b:304, 307

19. Wissler 1915:202

20. e.g., Jenness 1935:62, Kinietz and Voegelin

1939:36, Smith 1973:8, Teit 1930:196

21. Copway 1850:153

93. Swanton in Barbeau 1958:64

94. Sapir 1907:43

95. Brown in Du Bois 1935:93-94

96. Charles in Du Bois 1935:97

97. Powers 1986:25

98. Beckham et. al. 1984:47

99. Turney-High 1937:29-30



102. Du Bois 1938:24

103. Jenness 1933:19

104. Stefánsson 1914:359-360

105. Parsons 1929b:257

106. Jenness 1938:31

107. Martin Spidish in Du Bois 1938:18

108. Hines 1993:39

109. Hines 1993:40-41


111. Ritzenthaler 1953b:200




115. Jenness 1935:65-66


117. Jenness 1935:66

118. Tanner 1979:92

119. Coleman 1937:51

120. e.g., Lynd 1889:159


122. Lane 1952:52, LeJune in Thwaites 1897:v.6, 173


124. Hoffman 1896:148

125. Cooper 1944:67

126. e.g., Riggs 1869:100-101



50. e.g., Hudson 1984:16

51. e.g., Ritzenthaler 1953b:190-191

52. e.g., Haeberlin 1918:249

53. Gill 1977b:153

54. Cohen 1998:50

55. e.g., Du Bois 1938:24

56. e.g., Parsons 1939:135, 330, 450, 532, Rountree

1989:136, Stevenson 1904:385, 716, 862

57. Jenness 1935:64

58. Chalfant 1931:51-52

59. Speck and Broom 1983:47

60. Harriss 1937:230

61. Smith 1973:9, Speck 1907:121, Swanton 1928:615

62. Teit 1906:289

63. Knudtson 1975:12

64. Beckham et. al 1984:51, Parsons 1929a:137


66. Dick Mawhee in Park 1938:54

67. e.g., Hultkrantz 1987:81, Isaac Tens in Barbeau 1958:44

68. Beauchamp 1922:33-34, Kroeber 1925:137,

Skinner 1920:130, Speck 1949:124

69. e.g., Ritzenthaler 1953b:204

70. Kisto 2002

71. Bennet in Barbeau 1958:67

72. e.g., Spier and Sapir 1930:245

73. e.g., Anderson 2001:254

74. e.g., Anderson 2003:74

75. e.g., Hallowell 1992:92

76. Siskin 1983:28

77. Smith 1974:160

78. Goodrich 1844:175

79. e.g., Mohatt and Eagle Elk 2000:109-110

80. e.g., Speck 1909:133

81. e.g., Opler 1947:9

82. Mooney 1911:174

22. M.W. 1976:vol. II:55

23. Lewis and Jordon 2002:32

24. Fools Crow in Mails 1991:162-163

25. Beauchamp 1922:34-35

26. Densmore 1921:70, Lewis and Jordon 2002:35

27. Taken from the Ogle County Press, Polo, Illinois,

November 10, 1877, p. 6. I believe it originally

appeared in the New York Evening Post.

28. e.g., Dorsey 1894:417-419

29. Schmitter 1910:19

30. Haines 1888:389


32. Gilmore 1933:123

33. Moerman 1998:14

34. Ray 1932:203

35. e.g., Bates 1992:104, Frances Philips in Voegelin 1938:76

36. e.g., Jetté 1907:169-170, Gunn 1966:702

38. Kroeber 1907:332

39. Aberle 1967:27

40. e.g., Thurston 1933:111

41. e.g., Stefánsson 1914:375-376

42. Gayton 1930:390, Jetté 1911:721, Kroeber 1959:237, Lake

1982:79, Lee and Frost 1968:179, Lopatin 1945:77, Margetts

1975:405, Milfort in Nelson 1973:213, Morgan 1931:391,

Nomland 1938:96, Opler 1947:8, Parker 1928:13, Ray 1938:82,

Rountree 1989:130, Smith 1973:10, Stewart 1956:72, Stewart

1970:19, Underhill 1946:263, Zeisberger 1910:24-26

43. e.g., Ritzenthaler 1953b:180

44. e.g., Barbeau 1958:48, Dixon 1905:268, Driver 1936:197,

Drucker 1937:259, Niblack 1890:349, Teit 1930:195

45. Du Bois 1935:110

46. Du Bois 1935:104

47. e.g., Harriss 1937:227

48. e.g., Stewart 1970:17

49. Good 1994:70


112. Garter Snake in Cooper 1957:348-350

113. Main in Cooper 1957:346

114. Tukummiq and Lowenstein 1992:140, 149

115. e.g., Henry 1969:116-117

116. e.g., Smith 1974:154

117. Denig 1930:424

118. Ross 1969:329

119. Cushing 1897:980

120. Siskin 1983:59

121. Du Bois 1939:50

122. Cooper 1936:8-9

123. Hines 1993:135-136

124. Fenton 1941:406

125. Skinner 1925a:201-202

126. Cook in Barbeau 1929:192

127. Buck in Goodwin and Kaut 1954:400

128. Mohatt and Eagle Elk 2000:121

129. La Flesche 1890:216-221

130. e.g., Hall 1906:440-441, Riddell 1960:63, Romero

1954:4, Spier 1938:165, Stevenson 1904:527

131. e.g., Opler 1947:13

132. e.,g., Rogers 1983:110

133. Handleman 1967b:149, Fletcher and La Flesche

1893:8-9, Snyderman 1949:219, Young 1989:102

135. Mails 1991:42-43, 139-140

136. Mails 1991:154

137. Mails 1991:155-156

138. Crow Dog and Erdoes 1995:21-22

139. Powers 1982:6

140. Lame Deer and Erdoes 1972:193

141. e.g., Hurt 1960:51, Hurt and Howard 1952:291,

Lewis 1987:180, Powers 1982:70, Ruby 1966:78

143. Feraca 1998:43

144. e.g., Boyle 1898:103, Converse 1930:78

145. Wissler 1917:337-338

83. Wallace 1958 and 1959

84. Mann 2000:349-353

85. Witherspoon 1974:51, Wyman 1970:7

86. Gill 1979:9

87. Adelson 2000:14-15

88. Sharp 2001:50

89. Swan 1870:50-51

90. Ritzenthaler 1953a:157

91. Basso 1969:27

92. Hermann in Greene 1972:39-40

93. Handleman 1967b:152

94. Handleman 1967a:452

95. Beckwith 1889:245, Boas 1923:18, Boscana 1969:313,

de Laguna 1972:717, Hearne 1911:211-212 and 228-230,

Hines 1993:135-136, John Lawson in Harriss 1937:231-233,

Rountree 1989:126, many accounts in Swanton 1911:80-83

96. e.g., Black Elk and Lyon 1990:171-186, Lake

1982:90, Milligan 1976:72, Ridomi 1999:34

97. Issacs 1977:167

98. The Independent, September 13, 1883, pg. 4

99. The Independent, September 20, 1883, pg. 2

100. Hoffman 1888:220

101. Warren 1885:78

102. Landes 1968:73

103. Landes 1968:114

104. Hoffman 1891:168

105. Landes 1968:73

106. Landes 1968:170

107. Alice Ahenakew in Wolfart and Ahenakew 2000:115

108. Landes 1968:59

109. Dorsey 1902, Walker in Drury 1976:513-514, Fenton

1941:406, Hoffman 1891, Waterman 1930


111. e.g., Beckwith 1889:246, Bourke 1889:172, Kelly 1939:156-

164, Parsons 1939:893, Rogers and Evernham 1983:107


171. e.g., Basso 1969:33, Beaglehole 1935:8, Beardsley 1941:487,

Bunzel 1932:521, Dusenberry 1962:84, Harrington 1914:214,

Harrison 1925:96, Honigmann 1954:112, n. 34, Jenness

1938:74, Mooney 1891:375-381, Olbrechts 1930:547,

unidentified informant in Opler 1941:152, Skinner 1914a:78,

Sturtevant 1954a:400- 401, Swanton 1928:635-636, Teit

1909:619, Wildschut 1925:211- 214, Wissler 1912b:88

172. Landes 1968:65

173. e.g. Elmendorf 1993:250

174. Densmore 1942:540

175. Densmore 1942:539

176. Zeisberger 1910:83

177. Skinner 1915c:189

178. e.g. Baptiste in Brown and Brightman 1988:70, Coleman

1937:33, Lamb 1957:234-235, Zigmond 1977:83

179. Skinner 1924:207

180. Hoffman 1896:154

181. Skinner 1915c:190

182. Gabriel 1996:8

183. Culin 1907:81

184. Stuart 1972:6

185. Barrett 1906:27-28, Culin 1907:44, McAllister

1970:54-55, Stuart 1972:7-8

186. Culin 1907:xxxix

187. e.g. Drucker 1937:240

188. e.g., Copway 1850:48, de Laguna 1972:553, Du Bois

1935:43, Nelson 1973:140, Rand 1913:15-16

189. Belden 1870:29

190. Cox 1895:151-152

191. Connelley in Barbeau 1915:371

192. De Angelo 1926:354-355, Gabriel 1996:5

193. e.g., Colson 1953:250, Du Bois 1935:81, Farrand 1901:245

194. e.g., Fortune 1932:168, Powell in Fowler and Fowler

1971:224, Kluckhohn 1962:36, Turney-High 1937:26

146. Hines 1993:7, Nomland 1938:93, Sapir 1990:187, Scott

1966:93, Spier 1938:162, Stefànsson 1914:222

147. Grinnell 1908:176-178

148. Applegate 1978:15

149. Barnouw 1950:25, see also Simmons 1974:83

150. Beals 1933:387

151. Jewell 1987:149

152. Spindler 1970:183 (uses Evans-Prichard’s classification)

153. Harrington 1914:222, Kilpatrick and

Kilpatrick 1967a:158, Lee 1992:245

154. e.g., Kraft 1986:185-186

155. e.g., Hallowell 1992:95, Kroeber 1907:332

156. Ellis 1970:39

157. Kendrick 1967:7

158. Kendrick 1967:32

159. Benavides in Kendrick 1967:36

160. Kendrick 1967:37

161. Kendrick 1967:40

162. O’Brien 1999:48-49

163. Emmons 1911:114, Kroeber 1907:332, Spier

and Sapir 1930:247, Parker 1909:163


166. Densmore 1910:20-21, Hoffman 1896:154, Kluckhohn

and Leighton 1962:31, Lopatin 1945:76, Miller

1984:141, Rasmussen 1929:143-144, Ray 1932:202,

Simmons 1974:69, Sparkman 1908:215-216

167. Hill-Tout 1903:401, Stern 1934:83

168. see Renier 2005

169. e.g. Kluckhohn and Leighton 1962:34

170. Mandelbaum 1940:255, Skinner 1915c:189,

Sturtevant 1954a:394, White Wolf 1957:13-14


3. Teit 1906:288

4. Dorsey 1894:418

5. Will 1934:39

6. Spier 1930:113

7. Ray 1939:102-103

8. Mails 1979:162-163

9. Kellar 1893:591-593

10. Mason 1946:40

11. Hoffman in Howard 1974:253-254

12. e.g., Lowie 1909:45-46, Olden 1918:96,

Osgood 1937:180, Teit 1906:289

13. Newell 1912:33-36

14. Will 1934:46

15. Skinner 1915d:792

16. Steward 1933:310

17. Osgood 1958:58-59

18. Dorsey 1894:417

19. Lowie 1924:292-293

20. Howard 1984:136-137

21. Hermann in Greene 1972:58

22. Nelson in Brown and Brightman 1988:39

23. Nelson in Brown and Brightman 1988:45

24. Spier 1930:116-117

25. Gifford 1932a:50

26. Henshaw 1885:112

27. Unnamed informant in Opler 1943:37-38

28. Lummis 1925:237-238

29. Lowie 1909:46

30. McIlwraith 1948:V.1, 571

31. McIlwraith 1948:V.1, 570

32. e.g., Laushlai Hunt in Du Bois 1938:17, Honigmann 1954:107

33. e.g., Chief Joseph Logan in Fenton 1942:21

34. Kroeber 1925:505

35. Riddell 1955:97

36. Birket-Smith 1953:129

195. e.g., Frank Allen in Elmendorf 1993:182-183,

Spier 1930:93-94, Underhill 1939:174

196. Gifford 1933:306

197. Sukmit in de Angelo 1990:39

198. Olson 1936:150-151

199. Underhill 1939:142

200. Underhill 1939:170

201. Reagan 1905:291

202. Culin 1907:255, Du Bois 1935:82, Eells 1996:57, Elmendorf

1960:243-244, Fortune 1932:168, Grinnell 1895:27, Kelley

1936:135, Kluckhohn 1962:36, Turney-High 1937:26

203. Beals 1933:354


205. Dumarest 1919:187

206. Underhill 1938:152

207. Underhill 1938:154

208. Aginsky 1950:140

209. Jette 1911:721

210. Jacobs 1939:94-95, Underhill 1946:282

211. e.g., Landes 1937:133

212. Parsons 1932:339-340

213. e.g., Kelly 1936:132-133

214. Beals 1933:391, Cusick in Beauchamp 1922:66,

Bushnell 1909:29, Skinner 1915c:183-184

215. Unidentified Malecite woman in Wallis and Wallis 1957:32-33

216. Freeland 1923:71

217. Boas 1916:563-564, Wood Mountain in

Howard 1984:114, Skinner 1915c:183

218. Olson 1961:215

Chapter Eight End Notes

1. Waters 1963:172

2. Handleman 1967a:450, Calkins in Hoffman 1896:146,

Honigmann 1954:106-107, Lowie 1939:321


65. Lantis 1946:201

66. Parsons 1939:440-441

67. Lummis 1925:322, Underhill 1946:264

68. Armer 1953:9

69. Lowie 1913a:125-126

70. Ray 1945:95

71. Murie 1914:612

72. Hoffman in Howard 1974:255

73. Denny 1944:15

74. Rasmussen in Ostermann 1952:131

75. Wyman, Hill, and Ósanai 1942:20

76. Hittman 1996:184

77. Hager 1896:172, Mavor and Dix 1989:143

78. Jacobsen 1977:209, Mason 1946:40, Skinner 1915c:191-192

79. Howard 1954a:255, Howard 1974:249, Lowie

1913a:113, 116, 123, Lowie 1913b:252, 288, 308-

309, Murie 1914:624, Skinner 1915b:702-703

80. e.g., Riggs 1869:8

81. Ray 1945:101

82. Bouchard and Kennedy 1977:55


84. Frank Allen in Elmendorf 1993:188

85. Frank Allen in Elmendorf 1993:189

86. Hines 1993:136-140


88. S.H. in Olson 1936:155

89. Hill-Tout 1903:405

90. Spier 1930:116

91. Cushing 1920:620-621

92. Spier 1930:114-115

93. Parsons 1939:442, Stephen 1936:94, Stevenson

1904:451-452, 467, 505, White 1932:115

94. Cushing in Green 1979:104

95. Skinner 1915d:792, see also Deloria 1967:28

96. Antelope in Deloria 1967:19

37. Reagan 1937:13

38. Marquette in Thwaites 1959:v.54, 174,

also in Kenton 1927:v.2, 205

39. Picart 1731:56

40. Chief Joseph Logan in Fenton 1942:12

41. Thatcher 1832:v.1, 321

42. e.g., White Wolf 1957:12

43. Grim 1983:113, Jenness 1935:62

44. Jenness 1935:62

45. Radin 1928:661

46. Speck 1919:254, footnote 5

47. Jenness 1935:62, White Wolf 1957:12

48. Grim 1983:144-145, Jenness 1935:63

49. Vecsey 1983:191

50. Tanner in Grim 1983:147, also Tanner 1994:122

51. Hoffman 1896:151

52. Hoffman 1896:152

53. Radin 1928:661

54. Catches and Catches 1997:34



57. Dixon 1905:271, Handleman 1967a:455, Loeb 1933:162,

Lowie 1913a:126, Strong 1929:176, Waterman 1910:327-328

58. Bogert 1987:26

59. e.g., Drucker 1940:228, Goddard 1924:120,

Lindeström 1979:248, Christopher Walker in

Lopatin 1945:75, McIlrath 1948:v.1, 562, Nomland

1938:93, Olson 1940:176, Ray 1938:90

60. e.g., Beckham et. al. 1984:50, Boyd 1996:131, Drucker

1940:202, Haeberlin and Gunther 1930:60, Ray 1938:90

61. de Laguna 1972:705

62. Hill-Tout 1903:412; for the handling of hot stone among

the Spokane Indians to the east see Drury 1976:514

63. Osgood 1937:180

64. Charles Padani (Standing Buffalo) in Howard 1984:115


129. Kroeber 1932:360, n.211

130. Kroeber 1925:424

131. Dixon 1905:273

132. Gifford 1927:244-245

133. Kelly 1939:164

134. Spier 1938:155

135. Stockwell 1883:1222 (Originally published by Browne

1866:114 in a less embellished account)

136. Draper 1946:10

137. Wissler 1938:123-124

138. e.g., Hongiman 1954:107, Ray 1932:201, Teit 1900:363

139. Swanton 1928:626-627

140. Speck 1907:133

141. Jonas King in Jenness 1935:63

142. Densmore 1910:21

143. Patencio 1943:83-85

144. Parsons 1939:440

145. Trobriand in Howard 1974:251

146. Halliday 1935:125-126

147. Parsons 1939:440-441

148. Dorsey 1894:418

149. Murie 1914:601-603

150. Goddard 1911:264

151. Antelope in Deloria 1967:19

152. Hoffman in Howard 1974:253

153. Osgood 1936:157

154. Hill-Tout 1903:414

155. Hill-Tout 1903:414

156. Hill-Tout 1903:413

157. Lummis 1925:324-325

158. Teit 1906:288

159. Jeff Jones in Du Bois 1939:63

160. Nancy Jordon in Du Bois 1939:64

161. Hines 1993:53-54

162. Mary Eyley in Jacobs 1934:226

97. Wallis 1947:81

98. Osgood 1932:84

99. Dièreville 1933:183

100. Johnson 1943:78

101. Skinner 1914a:78

102. Dunbar 1882:748


104. de Laguna 1972:705

105. Olson 1961:209

106. Olson 1961:209

107. Olson 1961:210

108. Dumarest 1919:152

109. e.g., Sharp 2001:72

110. e.g., Lummis 1925:326, Strong 1929:252

111. e.g., Anderson 1968:7, Barrett 1917:443, Dorson

1952:27, Landes 1970:44, Parsons 1939:189,

Patencio 1943:69, Skinner 1915c:185

112. Fenton 1942:21

113. Benedict 1924:385

114. Parsons 1927:107

115. Salzer 1972:136

116. Spier 1938:162

117. John Kelly translating for Tom Williams in Gifford n.d. a:1-2


119. Strong 1929:169


121. Duff 1952:101

122. Boas in Codere 1966:145 (This, said of the

Kwakiutl, holds true in most Indian cultures.)

123. e.g., Strong 1929:168

124. de Laguna 1960:141

125. unidentified informant in Downs 1961:371

126. Fletcher and La Flesche 1911:583

127. Stern 1934:78

128. Nels Charles in Du Bois 1935:103


163. de Laguna 1960:140

164. Haeberlin and Gunther 1930:78


166. Hallowell 1960:49, note 11


168. Nowell in Ford 1967:205-206

169. Drucker 1940:203

170. Drucker 1940:212

171. Halliday 1935:125-126

172. Elmendorf 1960:490

173. Ray 1938:83

174. Roberts in Buckley 1992:143

175. Spier 1930:117-118

176. Hoffman in Howard 1974:252-253

177. unidentified informant in Kelly 1939:163

178. e.g., Du Bois 1938:13-14, Robinson

and Wickwire 2004:113-130

179. Dièreville 1933:184

180. Hager 1896:173

181. Johnson 1943:64

182. Johnson 1943:78

183. Blessing 1977:74

184. Tabeau in Howard 1974:248

185. Sage 1857:132:note

186. See Vol. 23 of Early Western Travels, 1748-

1846 edited by Reuben Gold Thwaites.

187. Maximilian in DeLand 1906:503

188. Mitchell 1962:311-312

Chapter Nine End Notes

1. Opler 1947:2

2. Initially named Sinanthropus pekinesis and

known today as Homo erectus pekinesis

3. See Chardin 1959 and 1966 for details.

4. The term noosphere was taken from Vladimir

Vernadsky’s 1926 title The Biosphere.

5. Walker 2000:274

6. For details see Nicolis and Prigogine 1977, Prigogine 1984

7. Eigen 1971

8. See Jantsch in the bibliography.

9. Kauffman 1995:vii

10. Gould 1999:93

11. Fletcher 1893:49

12. Philip Cassadore in Seymour 1988:33

13. Alexander 1910:10

14. Amiotte 1989:254

15. Wissler 1938:126

16. McLuhan and Fiore 1968:23

17. e.g., Sharp 2001:67

18. e.g., H. B. Cushman (in 1899) in Nelson 1983:197

19. Eastman 1902:267

20. Dodge 1882:248

21. Grinnell 1900:9

22. Vuilleumier 1970:9

23. e.g., Voth 1901:121-122

24. Harrington 1953:28-29

25. e.g., Collier 1944

26. Hultkrantz 1967b:44

27. Anderson 2001:249

28. McClellan 1956:134

29. Pirie 1937:184-185

30. Radin 1914b:350

31. Young Bear in Rhode 1933:125


33. Kehoe 1963:5-6

34. Kehoe 1990:194, 199

35. Lee 1959

36. Hallowell 1960:47, Grinnell 1901

37. Kehoe 2000:28

Spirit Talkers

38. White 2005:42-53

39. e.g., Strong 1929:168

40. Steinmetz 1990:20

41. Powers 1982:8

42. DeMallie 1984:157, n.8

43. Leighton and Adair 1966:52

44. Frisbie 1987:282

45. Green 1990:117

46. Geronima Montoya of the San Juan

Pueblo in Seymour 1988:138

47. Müller-Wille 1998:158-159

48. Müller-Wille 1998:211

49. e.g., Tanner 1979:106

50. e.g., Lake 1982:78-79

51. Halpern 1953:151

52. Halpern 1953:157

53. Lee 1944:186

54. Hermann in Jones 1899:117

55. Laura Nix in Schwarz 2003:115

56. Good 1994:175

57. e.g., DuBray and Sanders 1999

58. Winkleman and Peek 2004:4

59. Mails 1991:39

60. Olson 1964:17-18

61. Black Elk in Brown 1953:115

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Nations Index 523

Achomawi, 274Algonquin, 225Apache, 5, 113, 116, 124, 165, 204,

236, 256, 276, 291, 292, 345Chiricahua, 171, 173, 338Cibecue, 249Mescalaro, 102White Mountain, 32, 107

Arkikra, 59, 132, 208, 283, 287-288, 302, 320, 322, 328, 331-336

Assiniboin, 170, 225, 293, 315Stoney, 179 195

Beaver, 170Bella Bella, 157, 326Bella Coola, 294Blackfeet, 159, 179, 209

Blood, 217, 225, 230Peigan, 225, 266

Blackfoot, 116, 165, 169, 229, 232, 302

Cahuilla, 311, 314, 319Mountain 32

Cascade, 32, 224Chehalis, 211

Cowlitz, 324Satsop, 304

Chemehuevi, 209Cheyenne, 156, 162, 165, 168, 202,

225Southern, 170

Chippewa, 102, 140, 147-149, 236, 240, 252, 319

Chumash, 32, 292Cocopa, 273Colville, 204, 310Comanche, 138, 290-291, 316

Coos, 222Cowichan, 300

Kwantlen, 323Cree, 2, 26, 119, 207, 217, 228,

248, 251, 265Montana, 101Plains Cree, 225, 308

Creek, 42, 150, 178, 203, 237, 318Taskigi, 106

Crow, 11, 113, 168, 260Dakota, see SiouxDeleware, 116, 121, 132, 168, 182,

211Dene, 91

Dene Tha, 389Northern Dene, 60, 249

Eskimo, 54, 63, 109, 129, 151, 153, 159, 197, 199, 203, 205, 235, 253, 302, 360

Chugach, 294Copper Inuit, 224Ingalik, 289Inupiat, 77, 159Kobuk River, 152Kodiak Island, 116

Mackenzie Yukon, 28Nunivak, 301Southern Yukon, 349Tiagra, 197Upper Yukon, 239

Flathead, 115, 116, 169, 222Fox, 48, 155, 179-180, 272Gabrielino, 32Gros Ventre, 225, 227, 252Haida, 152, 161-162Hidatsa, 124, 169, 182, 302Hopi, 4, 23-24, 32, 50-51, 62-65,

Index of American Indian Nations

This section contains the names of Indian nations and their subdivi-

sions as mentioned throughout the text. Many of these terms are no longer

in use and other entries may constitute merely different spellings of the

same nation.

524 Spirit Talkers Nations Index 525

Pueblo, 43, 44, 81, 107, 183, 268, 276, 301, 306, 310, 320, 360

Isleta, 203, 268, 321, 323Jemez, 196Nambē, 203Piros, 269Taos, 321Tewa, 46, 114, 224Zia (Sia), 180, 320

Quinault, 115, 159, 178, 274, 305Santee, 262, 301

Canadian Santee, 301Sarcee, 116, 224

Sarsi, 225Satudene, 307Sauk, 115, 169, 272Saulteaux, 225Sekani, 202Seminole, 107, 155, 170, 311

Cow Creek, 182Mikasuki, 170, 182, 309

Seneca, see IroquoisSerrano, 310Shasta, 124, 209Shoshone, 168, 189, 191, 250Sinkaietk, 315Sioux, 99, 101, 102, 124, 168, 171,

177, 202, 237-238, 261, 263, 283-286, 349, 364

Brule, 287Canadian Dakota, 307Dakota, 54, 112, 124,165,

207, 225Lakota, see main entryOglala, 168, 173, 282Santee, see main entryYankton, 127, 164, 306, 321

Skokomish, 303, 304Slave,

Fort Nelson, 37, 218Stalo, 311

Takelma, 31, 222Tanaina, 154, 300Tena, 112, 276Tenino, 115, 116Timucua, 48Tlingit, 48, 49, 131, 138, 139, 140,

164, 196, 221, 300, 309, 312, 325

Tantakwan, 280, 309Tsimshian, 57, 309

Nass River, 157Nisqa, 157

Tuscarora, 243Tuskeruros, 206

Twana, 117, 211, 303, 304, 327Chehalis, 211

Umatilla, 132Ute, 102, 247, 290

Ouray Ute, 290Wailaki, 117, 205Wampanaog, 347Washo, 209, 249, 312Winnebago, 120, 127, 216Wintu, 116, 153, 155, 182, 218,

221, 222, 242, 312, 323, 361Wyandot, 53Yakima, 47, 220, 224, 254, 304,

324Yana, 254Yavapai, 120, 182Yokut, 116, 117, 182, 214, 295Yuki, 177Yuma, 176Yurok, 112, 121, 144, 327Zuni, 61-62, 78-82, 90, 98, 99,

106-107, 108, 114, 124, 128, 180, 209, 210, 254, 273, 305, 306, 360

84-85, 106, 113, 118, 122, 126, 135, 181, 182, 183, 269, 282, 301, 306, 320, 352

Hupa, 155Inuit, see EskimoIroquois, 123, 156, 182, 248, 252,

255, 296, 307, 310Cattaraugus, 255Confederacy, 94Onondaga, 238Seneca, 63, 113, 255, 270

Jumanos, 268-269Kalispel, 223Kansa, 159Kaska, 106Keres,

Western, 32Kickapoo, 272Kiowa, 103, 225Klamath, 31, 107, 116, 184-187,

283, 292, 305Klikitat, 182, 223, 224Kootenai, 36, 159Kutchin, 321Kutenai, 115, 132, 200, 209Kwakiutl, 124, 205, 320, 325, 326Kwantlen, 300, 305, 323Lakota, 16, 18, 49, 73, 75-75, 82,

84, 86, 92, 108, 111, 120, 125-127, 129-130, 136, 139, 142, 156, 163, 165, 192, 199, 201, 214, 222, 227, 241, 245, 251, 256, 259-260, 285, 298, 345, 349, 350, 353-357, 362, 365

Lillooet, 244, 282, 303, 323Luiseño, 107Lummi, 216, 312Maidu, 127, 267, 312

Nisenan, 267, 275Northern, 119, 313Southern, 313

Malecite, 277Mandan, 225Menomini, 55, 56, 119, 225, 272,

296, 297, 352Micmac, 158, 236, 302, 307, 329Miwok, 156, 310

Southern, 152Modoc, 327Mohegan, 63Mono, 243

Monachi, 292Narraganset, 273Naskapi, 120, 121

Montagnais, 199, 225, 229, 230, 297

Natchez, 150Navajo/Navaho, 37, 43, 44, 114,

126, 131, 132, 141, 142, 179, 210, 248, 293, 301, 302, 351, 358, 362

Nez Perce, 158Northern Dene, see DeneOjibwa, 55, 56, 105, 116, 119, 120,

121, 146, 164, 169, 170, 176, 179, 225, 226, 231, 234, 237, 243, 250, 252, 271, 296-298, 311, 325, 329-330, 349-351, 419

Mississaugas, 255Otchipwe, 254Plains-Ojibway (Bungi), 168,

177, 272Okanagon, 253Omaha, 37, 158, 257, 312, 344Onondaga, see IroquoisOsage, 96, 318, 348Ottawa, 56, 89, 216-217, 225, 295Paiute, 177, 203, 352

Kaibab, 82Las Vegas, 314, 328Northern, 250Owens Valley, 158, 289Southern, 32, 175, 205, 210

Papago (Tòhono O odham), 128, 246, 271, 274, 301

Paviotso, 164, 244, 326Pawnee, 263, 302, 308, 321Pit River, 96Pennacook, 296Penobscot, 34Ponca, 176, 289, 290, 306, 321Potawatomi, 63, 249, 272

Forest Potawatomi, 63, 310Powhatan, 32, 170, 209

526 Spirit Talkers Index 527

Index

Nearly all entries for names of shamans begin with their first name.

101 Ranch, 176

A. C., 263-265

Adam Fortunate Eagle, vii

Allouez, Father, 48

Alpert, Richard, 104

Altar, 76, 181, 277

blade, 276display, 104, 105, 125, 195,

239, 245, 247each one unique, 252

drawing of, 6, 30objects manifest on, 135,

152, 214, 215smudging of, 245sweat lodge, 129-130, 136,

152, 264yuwipi, 262-263

Altered states of consciousness, see consciousness

American Association for the Advancement of Science, 141

American Society for Psychical Research, 141

Amulets, see power objects

Anthropologists, 50, 101, 128, 140, 153, 196, 303, 348-353, 359, 363

appearance of, 60armchair anthropology, 352,

354, see also Appendix encounter with medicine

powers, 64-72, 76-81, 135, 348-349

fear of ridicule, 15, 61, 66, 67, 76, 78

going native, 61, 77-78medical, 247on herbalist, 234, 237on trance, 247participant observation, 61,

63, 68, 77psychoanalytic view of

shamans, 64, 199taboo regarding a belief in

medicine powers, 16-17, 25-26, 28, 61, 73, 76, 80, 82, 142-143, 302, 363

Antwine, 254

Asetcuk, 197-199

Aspect, Alain, 23

Autry National Center, 81

Avery Jemerson, 63

Ayahuasca, 34

Baba Ram Dass, 48

Beauchamp, William, 123, 238

Beede, Father A. J., 54

Belden, George, 127

Bell, John L., 21-22, 24, 27

Bell’s Inequality/Theorem, 22-23, 25, 26, 28, 33, 35, 142, 338

Ben Tciniki, 179

Benavides, Father, 268-269

Bent, George, 163

Bent Horn, 289

Bible, 120, 209

Big Ike, 184-187

Bill King, 164

Bishop Museum, 66

Black Elk, Ben, 74

Black Elk, Nicolas (Nick), 6, 18, 73-76, 111, 120, 142, 173, 174, 262, 370

Black Elk, Wallace, vii, 6, 7, 9, 16, 82, 86, 93, 120, 130, 136, 137-138, 191-194, 196, 200, 214-215, 219-220, 223-224, 343, 346, 350, 353, 357, 358, 363

Oregon Sun Dance, 194, 362Black Sage-Brush Head, 326-327

Black Snake, 314-315

Boas, Franz, 101, 133, 359-360

Bohm, David, 23, 32-33, 408

Bohr, Niels, 19, 20, 21, 340, 341

Copenhagen interpretation, 19, 20-21, 22, 32

Born, Max, 21

Bourke, John, 183

Boyd, Doug, 188-189

Brainerd, David, 51

Brave Buffalo, vii

Breath, 110, 124, 136, 158, 198, 199, 224, 248

related to Creator, 106-107 related to medicine powers,

105-106, 108Brigham, William Tufts, 66-73, 76

British Society for Psychical Research, 15, 17

Brown, Joseph Epes, 6, 120

Brownback, Senator Sam, 364

Browne, John Mason, 217

Brule River, 160

Brunner, Emil, 88

Bruno, Giordan, 20

Bucke, Richard, 104

Buckley, Thomas, 121

Buffalo, 156, 159, 334-336, 343, 345

clay, 335-336hunt, 127

calling, 162-164skin/hide, 56, 125, 166, 169,

203, 230, 232, 233, 266, 288, 289, 294

cap, 74skull/head, 136, 169transforming into, 170

Buffalo Chip Woman, 230

Bull Shield, 316-317

Bunzel, Ruth, 98, 115

Bureau of American Ethnology, 17, 61, 62, 81, 102-103

Bureau of Indian Affairs, 103

Calumet, see sacred pipe

Campbell, Joseph, 113

Canassatego, 95

Carlie Gabe, 223

Carver, Johnathan, 207

Cass, Lewis, 55-57, 320

Castaneda, Carlos, 2

Cat-in-the-Box, 20-21

Cat’s Cradle, 205

Catlin, George, 49

Ceremonies, see also divination, purification, yuwipi

After Seeding, 156and doubters, 52, 118, 131-

135, 147-149, 155, 196, 198-199, 209, 241, 282, 283, 286, 289, 301, 339

as wish fulfillment, 36, 140Bear Dance, 305Big House, 132Bole Maru, 116-117, 323-324buffalo calling, 162-163


chantway, 248children not allowed at, 226,

349 Crow Dance, 349declared illegal, 5, 60, 101-

102, 119diagnosis, 242-246

a form of divination, 243

more difficult than healing, 246

False-Face, 252, 255Feather Dance, 320, 326Fire Dance, 299, 300fire-walking, 68, 72Five-Stick, 245for finding lost objects/

persons, 158, 211-214, 216-221, 230, 327

for healing, 246-261chantway, 248Eagle Dance, 63ghost sickness, 172Mountain Chant, 301patient belief in, 241,

257, 259post traumatic stress,

249psychological

treatments, 248resuscitating the dead,

265-266, 289, 325, 328, 331

smallpox, 38, 257typhoid, 250with plants, 235-241

Ghost Dance, 73, 76, 101, 177, 248, 302

Bella Bella, 326Zuni, 114

Green Corn, 156gun, 171hunting rituals, 158

Kachina Dance, 84krilaq, 224loss of, 60, 92, 196-197, 240Medicine Dance, 127, 291Medicine Lodge, 54, 59, 250,

252, 283, 331Midewiwin, 250-251, 297,

319, 325, 330names for, 250

nature of, 48, 104, 113, 123, 126-127, 131, 139, 141-142, 237-238, 241, 245, 256, 257, 283, 293, 299, 312, 336-337

participants increase power of, 68, 123, 133, 140, 153, 199, 256

peyote, see main entryRaingod, 114rattlesnake, 183, 252, 295renewal, 168Shaking Tent, 119, 147, 148,

160, 164, 199, 225-233, 252, 291-292, 349

Shunáwanùh, 59, 283, 331-336

Snake Dance (Hopi), 182-184Spirit Canoe, 252Sun Dance, 5, 92, 120, 129,

130, 138, 165, 177, 194, 344, 357, 362, 363, 412

test, 315sweat lodge, 2, 52, 60, 92,

101, 131, 135, 138, 139, 152, 158, 166, 167, 215, 219, 226, 245, 273, 357, 358, 362, 366

account of, 130-131, 191-194

banned, 60details of, 125, 127,

129, 136disrespect shown for,

136-137done in secret, 93healing ceremony

account, 264-265inipi, 108, 130, 136,

262revitalization of, 359,

362Tapa Wanka Yap (Tossing the

Ball), 362Tawaru kutchu (Big sleight-

of-hand), 321Tewa Raingod, 114To Be Cut In Two, 204Tsitsika (Everything is not

real), 325-326Twenty-Day Ceremony, 321vision quest, 92, 101, 113,

152, 202, 298-299, 349banned, 60begins in childhood,

115language, 222nature of, 88, 200,

344, 350, 354, 356source of power, 86,

88, 222, 273, 351Wagiksuyabi, 293Wahla, 283, 305Wawan, 258Winter Guardian Spirit

Dance, 283winter solstice, 92Wuwuchim, 64Yeles, 222

Chant, see song

Chardin, Pierre Teilhard de, 340-344

Charlie Klutchie, 153-154

Charms, see power objects

Chased By Bears, 100

Chases the Spiders, 201-202

Chief Blackfoot Old Woman, 153

Chief White Wolf, 200

Chief Wolf, 96

Chips, Charles, 355

Chips, Charles (Horn), 7, 120, 174, 262, 349, 354

mistaken for Woptura, 355-356

Chips, Godfrey, vii, viii, 7, 76, 92-93, 120, 137, 152, 170, 178, 196, 200, 240, 245, 246, 257, 262-265, 354-357, 363, 413

Chips, Old Man, see Woptura

Christianity, 50, 51, 60, 91, 102, 119, 120, 160, 196, 228, 339, 350, 365

Chusco, 119

Clauser, John, 22

Coacoochee (Wildcat), 311

Colonists, 88, 146

Columbia River, 57, 128

Congress, 55, 99, 102, 103, 364

Conjuring,

earliest record of, 225Consciousness, 3

altered states, 30-32, 76, 103-105, 343

as a form of energy, 341as a quantum mechanical

process, 41in inanimate objects, 91phenomenology of, 104-105related to human evolution,

340-344related to quantum

mechanics, see quantum mechanics

Copenhagen interpretation, see Niels Bohr

Copernicus, 20


Coppermine River, 217

Cramped Hand, 290

Crazy Horse, 7, 171, 262, 355-356,

powers of, 173-174Crookes, Sir William, 16

Crow Dog, Jerome, 260-261

Crow Dog, Leonard, 260

Curie, Madame Maria, 13

Cushing, Frank Hamilton, 61-63, 78, 80, 81, 128, 254, 306, 360

Cyrus John, 120

Darwin, Charles, 14, 104, 340

Datura species, 32, 101, 209

Dawkins, Richard, 11, 43

Day Star, 165

Debunkers, 11

Deloria, Ella, 112

DeMallie, Raymond J., 74, 356

Denny, Sir Cecil, 232

Densmore, Francis, 81, 86 100, 140, 177, 271, 319

Dick Mahwee, 244

Divination, 36, 38, 101, 160, 165, 188, 204-213, 216, 221, 223-225, 227, 243

by weight, 223-224Cherokee bead, 149, 150-151,

243for answering questions, 221-

225for thieves, 206, 209, 210,

214-215Frenzy Witchcraft, 210Hand-trembler, 210nature of, 204, 213Navajo, 210-211scapulimancy, 206scrying, 224

Seeing Spirit, 80Star Gazers, 210-211string figures, 205

Djun, 280-281

Doc White Singer, 142

Doctor Bob, 304

Doctor Mink, 150-151

Domenech, Emmanuel, 48

Dorsey, James, 290

Drayton, John, 2

Dream(s), 48, 120, 169, 247, 299

a form of diagnosis, 245as a source of power, 5, 34,

86, 116 132, 151, 165-167, 182, 209, 225, 226, 273, 323, 325, 349

bear-dreamer, 321explained, 51, 248designs from, 168, 255prophet, 224reveal medicinal use of

plants, 237seen same as ordinary

reality, 118Drums, 86, 233, 258, 317, 329

drumming 31,139, 148for contacting spirits, 121,

160-161, 198for trance-induction, 31, 139,

198-199, 226, 302main ceremonial instrument,

31Du Bois, Cora, 254

Eagle Nest Butte, 200, 356

Eagle Sun, vii

Early, Dan, viii

Edelman, Gerald, 87

Edmore Green, vii

Eigen, Manfred, 342

Einstein, Albert, 19-21, 22, 24, 27, 32-33, 41, 143, 339, 340

Electron, 23, 27

Eliade, Mircea, 27, 30, 105, 111

Erdoes, Richard, 6

Ernie Rainbow, vii, 5

Fanny Brown, 155, 218, 222

Fanny Flounder, 327

Fasting, 48, 88, 113, 116, 129, 131, 165, 166, 175, 225, 237, 273, 312, 315, 344, 351

FBI, 204

Feather Cult, 182

Fewkes, J. Walter, 64-65, 135

Flaherty, Robert J., 109

Flatstone, 227

Fletcher, Alice, 37, 63, 257-259

Fools Crow, 75, 134-135, 201, 214, 237-238, 259-260, 262, 283-284, 364

Forester, David, ii, viii

Forsythe, Colonel, 171

Fort,

Benton, 217Grahame, 202MeLeod, 202Nelson, 37, 218Randall, 322Simpson, 57

Francis Mitchell, vii

Freud, Sigmond, 248

Frontenac, Count, 89

Galileo, 20

Games, 37, 272

ball, 275dice tossing, 273-274

gambling, see medicine powers > gambling

guessing, 79-80, 273-275races, 275recklessness of, 273string-figure, 205

Garland, Hamlin, 183

Gayton, A. H., 117

Geller, Uri, 33, 40-41

Geronimo, 171

powers of, 172-173Ghost, 230, 249, 266, 302, 334

Giago, Tim, 365

Gifford, Edward, 120

Gill, Sam, 141

Goodall, Thomas, 132

Goose, 163-164

Gould, Stephen, 343

Graves, Charles S., 184-188

Great Spirit, 50, 105, 106, 195, 207, 298, 299, 351, see also spirit helpers

Great Mystery, 8, 50, 106, 139, 226

Grinnell, George Bird, 91

Haile, Father Berard, 210

Half Moon, 168

Hallowell, Irving, 227, 350, 351

Hallucinations, 32, 101

Harner, Michael, vii, 30, 200

Harrington, M. R., 348

Hart, Mickey, 188

Harvard University, 15-16, 17, 104

Harvey, Fred/Harvey House, 186

He Crow, 316-318

Head mode versus heart mode, 85, 87, 89, 92, 94, 98, 127

head mode, 94, 97, 104 129,


142, 257heart mode, 107, 110, 122,

142, 246, 248, 347more powerful, 87

nature of heart mode, 88, 89-90, 91, 92, 97-98, 99-100, 105, 106, 124, 127, 128-129, 293, 362

Healing, see ceremonies > for healing

Heinze, Ruth-Inge, vii

Hemenway, Mary, 62

Henry Rupert, 249, 254

Herbalists, see shamans

Highwater, Jamake, 106

Higilak, 224

Hill-Tout, Charles, 61, 323

Hites, Tony, 130

HIV, 354, 363

Hodge, Frederick Webb, 81

Hoffman, Walter J., 56, 251, 297, 302, 328

Homaldo, 323-324

Home, D. D., 16

Honigman, 106

Hotevilla, 92

House of Representatives, 103

Howard, James, 132

Hudson Bay Company, 57, 228

Hultkrantz, Åke, 88

Human beings,

special nature of, 103-104, 341, 369

Human evolution, 340-344Huxley, Aldous, 104, 347

Illinois River, 217

Indians,

“apples”, 92

as mystics, 7, 114, 115assimilation efforts, 60believe to be beasts, 46breath training, 79, 107-108characteristics summary,

344-347don’t compromise, 100education of, 90, 94-98, 346

boarding school, 84, 93plant use, 237

first gained citizenship, 13first recognized as being

human, 46-47Hopi friendlies versus

hostiles, 92 humor, 222land theft, 47life as a way of being, 89-90,

92, 102, 351murder rare, 246, 268not thinkers, 97, 98, 102,

108-109pragmatic, 36regard for medicine powers,

1religion,

as most powerful influence, 112

term not applicable, 4, 112-113, 351

tolerant of other views, 51

reluctance to talk about medicine powers, 60

seen as childlike, 90-91, 128-129, 345, 347

seen as superstitious, 1-2, 24, 43, 59, 82, 111, 112, 113, 133, 296, 323, 338-399, 359, 363

sovereignty, 362traditional, 8

accustomed to

supernatural events, 11

traditional versus progressive, 5, 91-92, 358

view of reality, 73

Jack Stewart, 158

Jake Hunt, 182, 223

James Moves Camp, 35

James, George Wharton, 81

James, William, 17

Jantsch, Erich, 342

Jenness, Diamond, 205, 224

Jesuits, 52, 54, 106, 159, 225, 340

French, 48, 51Jetté, Father, 111

Jimson weed, 32, 101, 273

John King, 147-149

John Quinn, 115

Johnny Monday, 203

Johnson, Olga, 132

Joseph Eagle Elk, 256

Jugglers, see shamans

Kawbawgam, 105

Kehoe, Alice, 352-354, see also, Appendix

Kellar, Professor Harry, 285-287

Keppler, Joseph, 63

Ketegas, 325

Kilpatrick, Jack and Anna, 150

Kisto, Gerald, 246

Klamath River, 184

Kobuk River, 152

Kohl, Johann Georg, 146

Korzybski, Alfred, 4

Kot Lota, vii

Krippner, Stanley, vii, 25

Kushkan, 138, 309-310

Kutter, Fred, 142-143

La Flesche, Francis, 63, 256

Lafortune, Father, 54

Laing, R. D., 104

Lakota Times, 365

Lame Deer, Archie, vii, 129, 264

Lame Deer, John Fire, 129, 346

Language, 4

body, 96breath related to sacred in,

108 doctor’s, 27-28, 222lacking in physics, 27, 35mathematical, 29 words as boxed-thoughts 4,

113, 351, 354words as fake explanations,

4Laski, Vera, 114

Lawiqam, 211

Lechner, E. Theodore, viii

Legerdemain, 282, 283, 296

LeJune, Father, 199, 225, 227, 228

Lewis, David, 42, 203, 237

Lishwailait, 224

Listening to the Ground, 162

Little people, see spirit helpers

Logan, Senator John A., 62

Long, Joseph K., 25, 28

Long, Max Freedom, 66

Lowie, Robert, 290

Luls, 132

Lynd, James, 124

Mack, John, 15-16

Mackenzie River, 217


Magic, 2, 34, 59, 67, 86, 146, 201, 282, 283, 312, 361

amulets, 152belief in, 67, 82, 133, 196,

329black/evil, 54, 210, 365charms, 51, 272fire, 68, 71, 73gun, 289in everyday life, 113in warfare, 175magical,

powder, 272power contest, 311powers, 52, 66, 119,

158, 159, 275, 309, 311, 319, 326

thinking, 28magician, 43, 44, 49, 284,

285-287, 301nature of, 9, 50, 68, 76, 282,

350related to singing, 121Road of, 46shows/performances, 59,

282, 291, 330, 331Mails, Thomas, 6, 75

Marcellus Bear Heart, vii

Maria of Âgreda, 268-270

Marilyn Young Bird, vii

Martin, Calvin, 110

Martin High Bear, vii

Maslow, Abraham, 87, 104, 105

Mato, vii

Matthews, Washington, 132

Maximilian, Prince of Weid, 333

Maxwell, James Clerk, 19, 339

McIntosh, Creek Chief General William, 178

Mead, Margaret, 141

Medicine,

Indian meaning of, 49-50Medicine men/women, see

shamans

Medicine powers, see also ceremonies, power objects

air medicine, 202animation of objects, 43-44,

320-330as art and science, 3 as core of Indian cultures, 1,

8, 93, 113-114, 351-352, 367

as entertainment for whites, 59

as work of the devil, 52-55, 119, 229, 235, 284, 296, 300, 365

belief in, 51, 111, 113, 119 classification of, 4, 26, 349,

351, 352corpse medicine, 279-280danger of, 350earliest record of, 53 extinction of, 118, 196fire handling, 43, 53, 295-

303flying, see shamans > flightsfor manifesting food, 164for manifesting objects, 44

money, 324for obtaining food, 156-164

animals with prime pelts, 157

calling game, 163-164finding game, 158-161,

206making hunting easier,

177manifesting food, 164roping a whale, 161-162

for shape shifting, 44, 170,

179, 203, 267, 277-278, 297, 302, 310-312, 318

for transformation of objects, 311-312

for warfare, 165-174Bever medicine, 170individually owned,

168integral to, 165, 169,

175invulnerability to

bullets, 170-171, 174war shamans, 169, 175

for weather control, 176-184cloud splitting, 178multiple weather

medicines, 177objects used for, 181-

184rain, 43, 74, 171-172,

176, 179-181, 184-188

tornado control, 188used in warfare, 170,

179for walking on water, 282formulas, 122, 149-150gambling, 273-276ghost power, 172healing, see ceremonies > for

healinghunting, 159, 161-162

calling game, 163-164locating game, 160-161

individual, 147, 151inkonze, 37, 60limitation of, see shamanismloss of, 5, 93, 121, 365love medicines, 271-272, 297never really lost, 5, 86-87,

362-363power contests, 282, 312-320power displays, 55, 59, 133,

134, 138, 144, 202, 204, 282-283, 290, 291, 292, 293, 294

invulnerability to bullets, 287-291, 329, 331-333

proof of, 3, 27psychic vision, 79, 80, 273seen as tricks, 43, 44, 45,

48, 51 52, 54, 59, 78, 82, 119, 133-134, 231, 233, 253, 284-285, 288, 292, 302, 305, 307, 310, 314, 331, 333, 337, 352

sought by everyone, 115-117swallowing, 303-310viewed as a mystery, 4witnessed by whites, 43, 53,

56, 58, 59, 63, 64, 67, 74, 130, 134-135, 136, 147-149, 187, 191, 193, 207, 208, 217-218, 224, 225, 229-230, 231-233, 250, 253-254, 264-265, 321-322, 323, 326-327, 329-330, 331-337

Medicine Rock, 185-187

Medicine societies, 56, 63, 113, 131, 180, 250-252, 255, 257, 282, 283, 306, 310, 331

Bear Society, 132Black Chins, 168False-Face, 252, 255Fan Strikers, 296Galaxy Fraternity, 305Grand Medicine, 56, 250-

252, see also ceremonies > Midewiwan

Husk-Face, 255Iruska, 302nature of, 256-257Medicine Lodge, 297members executed, 270


power feats of, 59, 282, 283, 296, 302, 306, 310, 331

Priests of the Bow, 62secret societies category, 144Snake Society, 182-183war societies, 175

Dog Soldiers, 170Black Chins, 168Kit Fox, 260

Yayatü, 301, 320-321Mensturation, 138, 144

menses, 278moon time taboo, 137-139,

155Merrimac River, 296

Midjistega, 120

Miracle, 11, 51, 104, 114, 118, 270, 282, 284, 339

humans as, 344Missionaries, ix, 47, 48, 50, 52, 54-

55, 92, 93, 106, 154, 111, 210, 350, 365, see also Jesuits

called “dust eyes,” 50, 269competition between, 51destroyed medicine items, 93

Missouri River, 59, 190, 219, 331, 333

Moerman, Daniel, 235, 237

Monotheism, 5

Mooney, James, 63, 102-103

Mountain Chief, 209

Multiple sclerosis, 264

Nanook, 109

Narby, Jeremy, 34

Nass River, 57, 157

National Museum of the American Indian (NMAI), 2, 358, 365-367

Native American Church, 103

Natural selection, 14, 340-343

NCIAC, 367-367

Neal, Willie, 204

Neihardt, John, 6, 18, 73-76, 120, 142, 215

Nels Charles, 221, 222

Nelson, George, 228, 291

Neural Darwinism, 87

New York Hearld, 316

New York Post, 239

Newell, Major Cicero, 287

Newton, Sir Issac, 19, 21, 40, 339

Nightshade, 101

Non-locality, see quantum entanglement

Nuwat, 164

Obama, President, 364

Observer Effect, 19-23, 27, 28, 33, 36, 40, 45, 46, 51, 68,127, 144, 146, 241, 242, 245, 257, 260, 361, 408

activation of, 35, 111, 120-124, 131, 137, 141, 175, 199, 299, 316

and doubt, 118and plant medicines, 236as a form or prayer, 159, 256as “feeding” a power, 154as related to belief, 51, 40-41,

241, 280works at all levels of reality,

143Occam’s Razor, 338-339

Ogden, Peter, 57-59

Old John, 329-330

Old Matoit, 218

Old Yellow Legs, 225

Oraibi, 84, 92, 183

Osawask (Yellow Bear), 119

Ouspensky, P. D., 104

Pain, Duncan, 6

Paint, 288-289

Pandora, 147

Paraphenomena, 143

Parapsychologists,

FBI records on, 204Parapsychology, 17, 25-26, 28-29,

33

CIA review of, 25development of psychic

vision, 79-80, 273international word for, 40meta-analysis of, 25non-local viewing, 37

Pareja, Father, 48

Parker, Arthur C., 63, 113, 122

Park, Willard, 117

Parsons, Elsie Clews, 79, 124, 209, 276

Pedro, King Dom, 78

Pete Catches, 298-299

Peyote, 32, 37, 101-103

Pijart, Father, 53, 295

Plenty Coup, 165-167

Pocahontas, 204

Point, Father, 54

Poor Wolf, 169

Pope Alexander VI, 46

Pope Paul III, 46-47

Power objects, 151-156, see also sacred pipe

amulets, 144, 151, 158, 165, 231, 273, 315, 316

feeding of, 154-155for warfare, 165manifestation of, 152nature of, 152, 153,

155-156, 204, 225, 350

reproduce themselves, 155, 251

caxwu, 211-213, 220, 327chant, see songscharms, 48, 49, 51, 113, 116,

146, 151, 152, 153, 204, 221

binding of, 200blinded by, 155Cherokee, 150discharming, 183-184love, 271-272reproduce themselves,

251snake, 183war, 169

Cheyenne Sacred Arrows, 15, 168

crystals, 211, 224, 243, 275, 276

enchanted objects, 44feeding of, 154-155, 184, 247,

251, 279fetish, 108, 125, 151, 181,

320 gains power over time, 153hematite, 125, 220-221invisible, 153, 162kila, 224kikituk, 253Living Solid Face mask

(Misingw), 132, 211masks, 49, 58, 182, 214, 255,

309medicine bag/bundle, 86,

113, 151, 155, 159, 167, 169, 238-239, 291, 348

medicine stick, 294migis/mide shell, 251multiple themselves, 155nature of, 152, 155


power stick, 327return if lost, 155, 325, 329sila (poison sticks), 313Twins Plaything, 182White Buffalo Calf Pipe, 156

Powers, William, 355

Prayer, 3, 39, 362

as a wish-fulfillment process, 140

as form of hope, 147as spirit-power-thinking, 121importance of, 38, 142, 144need for sincerity, 48, 121-

127, 141, 159, 242, 256, 299, 344-345, 362

offerings, 125, 127paho, 181prayer sticks, 125-126,

181tobacco ties, 125, 127,

257, 262, 356practice of, 125, 127repetition of, 122, 126, 141,

181, 339, 345words as objects, 85, 142words as units of power, 85

Prigogine, Ilya, 342

Prince, Raymond, 104

Pring, Captain Martin, 347

Pruett, Katrina, viii

Psychic detectives, 213, 271

Psychics, 33

Psychoactive plants, 101

Psychotropic plants, 30, 31, 32, 34, 101, 209, 273

Psychokinesis (PK), 18, 33, 215

Psychometry, 33, 243

Purification, 111, 144, 236, 293, see also fasting

for diagnostic ceremony, 245

for herbalists, 238, 240for hunting, 157, 158for Shaking Tent, 226for Snake Dance, 182for war, 175, 249nature of, 123-124, 127, 131,

137-139, 154, 279, 339, 344

of Roman Nose, 171plants for, 124

cedar, 124, 298, 299sage, 75, 152, 201, 260,

261, 262, 264sweet grass, 124, 298,

299smudging, 124, 125, 139,

154, 248, 299stops one’s thinking, 344use of tobacco for, 100wiping, 124, 249

Quantum entanglement, 33, 91, 140, 213, 270, 369

and witchcraft, 270, 279Quantum mechanics,

all minds related, 340enigma of, 142-143hidden variables, 41interrelated with

consciousness, 3, 19, 21, 26, 27-29, 41, 85, 121-122, 142-144, 147, 159, 169, 172, 175, 238, 242, 252, 256, 257, 283, 299, 336, 338, 341, 345

laws stronger than space-time laws, 73, 118, 216, 343

quantum leap, 24related to shamanism, see

shamanismtranslocation, 24, 214, 227

study of, 215

Radin, Dean, 25

Radin, Paul, 121, 350

Rain Thunder Bird, 176

Rasmussen, Knud, 63

Rattles, 86, 170, 226, 229

cocoon, 313for calling spirits, 49, 139for controlling weather, 179gourd, 243skin, 263stick rattles, 148

Rawat, Prem, iii

Reality,

and the observer effect, 22as a fluid process, 3, 7, 9, 23-

24, 41, 89, 118, 122, 142, 339

as a mirror of language, 37materialistic view of, 13, 17,

18, 20, 23, 24, 26seen as causal, 91

Red Cloud, 285, 286

Red Dog, 99

Red Feather, 173-174

Red Fish, 164

Red Road, 8, 92, 111, 345, 346, 359

Reichard, Gladys, 141

Reservation, 5, 59, 92, 93 137, 152, 219, 231, 354, 358, 359, 362, 365

as sovereign nation, 358gossip, 222Hopi, 84Kiowa, 103Pine Ridge, 73, 138, 355, 357 Rosebud, 6, 202, 285, 355Standing Rock, 54

superintendent, 135Rhine, J. B., 17-18, 25

Rick Thomas, vii

Rising Bull, 163

Ritual actions,

related to quantum mechanics, 122, 236

Ritzenthaler, Robert 147-149, 249

Rolling Thunder, vii, 188-191

Roman Nose, 170-171

Rosenblum, Bruce, 142-143

Ross, Alexander, 128, 253

Russell, Frank, 175

Sacramento River, 218

Sacred pipe, 8, 74, 120, 148, 153, 171, 182, 190, 216, 230, 232-233, 347

Calumet, 258for bringing rain, 179, 316for splitting clouds, 178in power display, 306, 314,

315, 320in sweat lodge ceremony, 129lit without a match, 302nature of, 100-101, 158prelude to calling spirits,

266, 284, 292, 298, 329presentation of, 41, 219, 241

Salzer, Robert, 63

Sandoz, Mari, 356

Sandpaintings, 126, 132

Sansile, 321

Saskatchewan River, 315

Saybrook University, vii

Science,

rules of, 12sacred rule of, 339

Schoolcraft, Henry Rowe, 55, 112


Schrödinger, Erwin, 19, 20, 29, 408

Sdayaltxw, 303-304

Sea Lion, 161-162

Self-organizing principle, 342

Senate (U.S.), 103

Sequoyah, 149

Shadayence, 51

Shaking Tent, see ceremonies

Shamanic State of Conscious (SSC), 31-34, 37, 87, 140, 154, 173, 202, 204, 213, 227

access different levels of reality, 34

core feature of shamanism, 111

definition of, 30divination, 244entered at will, 196induction of, 39, 49, 86, 139,

161, 226limited to humans, 341recognition of, 223

Shamanism, 2, 3-4, 13, 37, 105, 120-123, 143, 352-354, see also Appendix

approach to, 145, 146 as an art, 12, 36, 41, 98, 117,

143, 144, 296, 343, 345core features of, 3, 4, 7, 8,

12, 27, 31, 43, 111, 123-124, 141, 143, 161, 339

delay in practice, 117demonstrative, 282limitation of, 38-39, 122-123,

144, 243, 246, 343nature of, 120-121, 195-196,

239, 252not studied, 26, 132, 349related to breath, 105-108,

124, 136, 148, 158, 181,

198, 199, 224, 239, 242, 248, 293, 297, 332

related to quantum mechanics 7, 28, 30, 34, 35, 140, 142-143, 146, 178, 199, 236, 252, 256

witchcraft, 270, 279rules of, 9, 32, 41, 105,

111, 168, see also spirit helpers > rules

Shamans,

abuse of, 5, 13, 54, 93, 101-102, 120, 178, 357-358, 365

all knowing, 39, 169, 242as adversary to missionaries,

51as conduit of power, 140,

293, 364 as conjurer/conjuror, 51, 52,

119, 164, 206, 226, 228, 228-230, 239, 296, 316, 316

as juggler, ix, 44, 51, 52, 54, 55, 228, 231, 232, 282, 296, 3323-336

as scientist, 3, 12, 36, 82, 122, 144

Bear men, 203binding of, 199-200, 207,

225-227, 261-262, 291-292, 349

born holy, 354classification of, 4, 26, 50,

143-144, 197, 252djessakid, 225-226dog understanders, 224-225don’t do ceremonies with

whites present, 131, 147, 185

fakes, 52, 133, 249, 348, 353fear of, 267, 358flights of, 197-203, 204, 267,

297, 302, 310, 312, 352ghost doctor, 273have more than normal

power, 117, 156, 167healing, see ceremonies > for

healingherbalists, 234-241

knowledge of plants, 237

plants recorded, 235, 237

plant medicine testing, 236

spirit of plants, 235, 238

huhuna dancers, 214jessakkid, 231-232Kapina, 180linguistic distinction of, 117 payment of, 119, 241-242,

353picked up by spirits, 200-201powers tested, 79-80, 134-

137, 224-225, 287-288, 304-305

seers, 221, 224, 226, 297shamanic call, 88, 247sorcerers/witches, 251, 267-

268attacks, 277battle, 276Bear-Walker, 310gambling powers, 273-

276killed, 210, 270, 275,

277-278names for, 267poisons, 278-279send illness, 270, 276-

277special strength of, 52, 196,

226, 300, 325sucking doctors, 252

disease-objects, 243, 252-253, 254

remove actual objects, 254

termed “doctors”, 52training of, 5, 88, 98, 101,

113, 337use of plants, 247-248

manifestation of medicinal herbs, 264, 325

wabeno, 55, 56, 119, 295-298, 308, 319

who were Christians, 119-120, 160, 228, 339

wonder workers, 293-293Shaman’s Drum magazine, 354

Short Jim, 153-154

Siludhaup, 176

Simmons, Leo, 84

Sinal, 181

Sitting Bull, 99,

powers of, 171-172Sits On The Hill, 176

Small Ankle, 182

Smith, Houston, 88

Smithsonian Institution, 17, 61, 62, 65, 81, 102, 103

Solvay Congress, 19

Songs/Singing,

as adding intensity to prayer, 122

as personal property, 153chant, 44, 71, 151, 190, 293

chanting, 190, 202, 318

Snake, 135symbol, 210to drive off evil spirit,

205discharming, 184


for love medicines, 271for plant medicines, 238Omaha mystery song, 343power songs, 86-87, 105, 323serve as a form of prayer,

360, 362Sonic driving, 30-31

Sorcerers, see shamans

SORRAT, 18, 215

Southwell, Governor Seth, 206

Spaniards, 4, 48

Speck, Frank, 63, 120-121

Spirit helpers,

as sparks of light, 226, 262, 263, 264, 297

Atamantan, 178baohi’gan, 34Bat, 249Beaver, 219Buffalo, 136control of, 117Coyote, 172, 210, 260-261Double-Headed Serpent, 205Fish, 204, 309Gila monster, 210Great Man, 121Great Mystery, 8, 50, 106,

139, 226Great Spirit, 50, 105, 106,

195, 207, 298, 299, 351Little people (dwarfs, elves),

76, 156, 165, 167, 202, 211, 237

Manito, 226, 227 Manedo, 250Manido, 231, 232, 237Manitou, 116, 117Manitto, 52, 115

Masauwu, 64-65must be accepted by, 152,

349

nature of, 2, 7, 16, 31, 32, 34, 36, 38, 76, 77-78, 101, 118, 139, 220, 222, 223, 264, 302

never questioned, 137operate at quantum level,

118plants, see shamans >

herbalistspossession by, 27, 53, 213rules, 35, 41, 45, 151, 161,

350Thunder Beings, 174, 176,

179, 208, 317Turtle (Mikenak), 176, 227Wealthy, 205

Spirit interpreter, 221, 230

Spiritualists, 13-15, 17, 61, 79, 204

Spotted Eagle, Grace, 6

Standing Elk, 201

Stapp, Henry, 22

Stefánsson, Vilhjálmur, 63, 203, 213

Stephen, Alexander, 63

Stevenson, Colonel James, 62

Stevenson, Matilda, 78, 82, 99, 108

Steve Red Buffalo, vii, 6

Sukmit, 274

Sun Bear, vii, 353

Sun Chief, 84-85, 87

Supernatural, 17-18, 24, 26, 27, 37, 50, 59, 93, 104, 160, 168

abilities, 16, 79, 82assumption of, 11-13, 15, 18,

28, 43, 45, 76, 82, 111, 143, 180, 338, 339, 352, 363

beings, 49, 86, 126, 165level, 32, 34, 88plant, 100power 50, 102, 115-117, 147,

157, 165, 271, 274, 311, 321

ridicule of, 13supernormal, 82suppression of 15-16, 82

Suwi (Sam Clam), 273

Swanton, John Reed, 17-18, 66, 78, 81

Sweat lodge, see ceremonies > sweat lodge

Swedenborg, Emmanuel, 17

Talayesva, Don C., see Sun Chief

Tantaquidgeon, Gladys, 63

Tekic, 196, 300

Telekinesis, 18, 40

Telepathy, 82

Neihardt with Black Elk, 75

Teleportation, 306, see also quantum mechanics > translocation

The Foundation for Shamanic Studies, vii

The Independent, 250

The Woman of the Blue-Robed Cloud, 160-161

Thomas Banyacya, vii

Time magazine, 27

Timm Williams, 121

TNGS, 87

Tobacco, 32,150, 216, 233, 241, 245, 255, 301, 307, 310, 347, 392, 394, 395

offerings 176, 211, 241, see also prayer offerings > tobacco ties

smoking, 100Tohma, 302

Trance, 13, 39, 52, 153, 216, 221, 280, 301, 309, 363,

see also Shamanic State of Consciousness

as mystic consciousness, 7by means of psychoactive

plants, 30, 32, 34connected to breath, 106core feature of shamanism,

4, 27, 105divination, 210, 218, 244-245full trance, 31, 139-140, 221-

222, 244induction, 32, 34, 105, 139,

144, 244, 247, 343, 369as techniques of

ecstasy, 30, 111, 105by drumming, 31, 199by songs, 86skilled at, 88

limited to humans, 341of white mediums, 13, 213seen same as ordinary

reality, 118state, 36, 91, 247, 363

Treaty making, 99-100, 346

Trobriand, General Phillippe de, 320

Troyer, Carlos, 78-82, 107, 114

Turner, Edith, 77-78

Turtle brothers, vii

Twain, Mark (Samuel Clemons), 15

Two Buttes, 166

Two Labrets, 205

Two Wolves, 208-209

Twylah Nitsch, vii

Underhill, Evelyn, 104

Underhill, Ruth, 128

Vesme, Caesar de, 82

Vision quests, see ceremonies

544 Spirit Talkers

Voth, H. R., 184

Wahwun, 216-217

Walker, Evan Harris, vii-viii, 22, 26-29, 41, 142, 341

Wallace, Alfred Russell, 14, 16

Walpi, 64, 65, 135, 183

Wasunopa, 306-307, 321-322

Welsh, John, 189-191

Weneyuga (Frank Spencer), 164

West, Richard, 358, 365-367

Wheeler, John A., 26

Whipple, Rev., 51

Whiskey, 49, 89, 119-120, 158, 213-214

White Bull (Ice), 202-203

White Eyes (Wobik), 328

White Thunder, 168

White, Timothy, 354

Wilber, Ken, 87

Will (human), 34-38

as a force, 345Willier, Russell, 2

Winkelman, Michael, 76

Wissler, Clark, 63, 237, 316

Witches, see shamans > sorcerers

Wolf, Fred Allen, 7, 30, 32-34, 133, 367

Wolf’s Word (Maqueapos), 217-218

Woptura, 7, 174, 262, 354-355

Work, Herbert, 13

World War I, 249

World War II, 97, 249, 358, 364

Wounded Knee, 101

Wovoka, 73, 177, 302, 353

Wraps Up His Tail, 168

Wyagaw, 179-180

Yale University, 84

Yellow Bear, 63

Yellow Calf, 349

Yellow Legs, 325

Young, David, 2, 26

Yukon River, 224

Yuwipi, 7, 16, 120, 125, 134-135, 199, 227, 252, 261-265, 349, 356

Zukav, Gary, 20

Other Publications by William S. Lyon

1991 Black Elk: The Sacred Ways of a Lakota, HarperSanFranciso, San Francisco, CA.

1996 Encyclopedia of Native American Healing, ABC-CLIO, Santa Barbara, CA.

1998 Encyclopedia of Native American Shamanism, ABC-CLIO, Santa Barbara, CA

About The Author

William S. Lyon received a Ph.D. in anthro-

pology from the University of Kansas in 1970.

Since 1972 he has sought to understand the sacred

ways of traditional American Indian shamans by

participating in their ceremonies and teachings.

He has also done extensive research on historical

observations of American Indian shamans that

resulted in the publication of the Encyclopedia of

Native American Healing (1996) and Encyclopedia

of Native American Shamanism (1998). In addition he has published Black

Elk: Sacred Ways of the Lakota (1990), which documents the medicine

power abilities of Wallace Black Elk, a Lakota medicine man.

This book is the first-ever publication to provide an in-depth overview

of American Indian medicine powers. More importantly it challenges the

current notion that a belief in medicine powers is merely the result of

primitive superstition. Utilizing a recent discovery in quantum mechanics,

hailed by some physicists as “the greatest discovery in the history of

science,” Lyon explains how quantum mechanics principles can be used

to better explain why shamans do what they do during ceremony. This

results in Lyon taking the point of view that there is now more evidence

to assume Indian medicine powers are real than to assume they are not.

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