The notion that there are nonphysical conscious beings, that they comprise an aspect or dimension of overall reality, and that on occasion they may interact with us is an ancient and universal belief. If upon our deaths we or some essential aspect of us continues on in a recognizable form, then we become nonmaterial entities or beings – souls or spirits in religious traditions.
Traditional cultures around the world believe in a great variety of spirits, and one of the richest sources of information about them can be found in the practice of shamanism. Anthropologist and practicing shaman Michael Harner says this:
While the work of shamans encompasses virtually the full gamut of known spiritual practices, shamanism is universally characterized by an intentional change in consciousness . . . to engage in purposeful two-way interaction with spirits.. . . What they [shamanistic traditions] all . . . share is disciplined interaction with spirits in nonordinary reality to help and heal others. (Harner, Cave and Cosmos)
Harner emphasizes that for shamans spirits are absolutely real. Shamans differ from those who believe in spirits, because they know from firsthand experience that spirits exist. They see the spirits, touch them, hear them, and converse with them. . . . Shamans no more believe spirits exist than you believe your family, friends, and acquaintances exist. You know your family, friends, and acquaintances exist because you talk and otherwise interact with them daily. Similarly, shamans know spirits exist because they interact with them daily or, more often, nightly, for it is usually easier to see spirits in darkness.
Shaman is an anthropology term for what are commonly known in traditional native cultures as medicine men or women or simply healers. Following is a very brief account of my experience with Lakota medicine men.
In 1976 I secured a position as a college teacher in the Human Services field at Sinte Gleska College (now university) on the Rosebud Sioux Reservation in South Dakota. My wife and I remained there for four years. The college at the time was in its fourth year and owed its existence largely to two people, Gerald Mohatt, the founding president and a former Jesuit who had come to the Rosebud in 1967, and Stanley Red Bird, representing the Rosebud people. While Jerry and Stanley, among many others, were laying the groundwork for the college they were also attempting to strengthen the work of the local Lakota healers or medicine men. The result was the formation of the Rosebud Medicine Men and Associates which came to include most of the practicing medicine men on the reservation and their helpers. Stanley became the chairman of the association as well as the chairman of the college board of directors.
The Human Services office at Sinte Gleska served as a kind of informal meeting place for people who wanted to talk with Stanley, so almost on a daily basis one or more of the medicine men’s group would be there. I had the good fortune to be responsible for organizing and facilitating one of the courses the college began to offer titled Lakota Medicine. Members of the group came to class to give to give talks and led students on field trips to find medicinal plants and other natural things used for rituals and sacred purposes. My association with Stanley and members of the group gave me an opportunity be invited to healing ceremonies whenever I wanted..
To appreciate the work of Lakota medicine men it’s crucial to understand that although functioning fully in contemporary reservation life, they simultaneously participated in an ancient heritage with a world view quite different from that that of us modern folks.
Most of the healing ceremonies or lowanpi’s I attended were held by medicine man Robert Stead at his house out on the prairie. The person seeking help and requesting a ceremony would have first gone to him, presented a sacred pipe, and asked for help. To prepare for the ceremony the help seeker or friends would have made tobacco ties and made or purchased food items. I would have made some tobacco ties to bring with me also. Tobacco ties are small pieces of material a few inches square tied at the corners to contain a small amount of tobacco and tied on a string some 4 — 6 inches apart.
On the evening of a ceremony, typically with my friend and fellow human services instructor Frank Pommersheim, I would arrive early so we could participate in the sweat that the medicine man and helpers did to purify themselves. When this was concluded it would be dark, and we would go into the house. Everyone else, typically 15 -25 people, would be there in the main room of the simple Stead home. The altar would be set up consisting of what looked like fine sand placed on the floor in the form of a circle maybe 16 inches in diameter. Strings of tobacco tics would be placed around it. Four cans with sticks with attached colored materials would be placed surrounding the altar to represent the four directions. The medicine man’s sacred materials including his pipe would be placed in a certain way. If a medicine was required, typically it would be in a container next to the altar. Blankets would then be put over the windows to keep out any possible light and the door would be locked.
The medicine man and helpers would then begin praying and singing songs of welcome to invite the spirits in. Robert’s spirits were wanagi, spirits of former medicine men. What then occurred was the help seeker would explain his/her situation and request aid. The medicine man would consult with his spirits and follow their direction. The “doctoring” was done by the spirits. They might give the medicine man instructions to pass to the person. Other people in attendance would then in turn have an opportunity to ask the spirits through the medicine man for general guidance if they wished. When this was completed, more songs and prayers of thanksgiving would be offered, the spirits would leave, the lights would be turned on, and the ceremony would be over.
Afterward Robert would typically go around to those present and talk to them about any advice the spirits had for them. (Maybe this was only for those of us not speaking Lakota as everything in the ceremony was conducted in that language.) After this we would all eat. Because the ceremonies didn’t start until dark, which in summer months in South Dakota came quite late, it might be after midnight by the time we left to drive home.
I remember when attending my first ceremony I was quite nervous. Once the lights were turned out the room was in pitch darkness, and everything took place in the Lakota language. Shortly after the initial praying and singing ended there was a very loud rap on the wall right above my head. A bit later the medicine man’s rattle could be heard shaking in various places in the room. It came very close to me, right in front of my face, and I could have reached out and touched it, but I was much too scared. While this was going on there were no other sounds in the room.
I have often wondered about what was going on and in my most critical moments have speculated that maybe there wasn’t anything involving supposed spirits at all. Maybe the medicine man or his helpers were doing these things in the darkness to convince the help seeker whose own inner resources would be stimulated to produce the healing, a kind of placebo effect. However, for someone to have been rapidly moving about shaking the rattle without making any other sound, and to have done so while not bumping into the attendees sitting on the floor all around the room, would have required some very special abilities or procedures that just didn’t seem plausible. Years later when I read about physical phenomena appearing in seances conducted by the Scole group I became more convinced that the spirit phenomena were genuine.