Shaman can serve as a guide on one's spiritual path to inner peace
Instead of the four-dimensional reality to which we're accustomed, string theory posits
that the universe is made of 10 to 23 dimensions vibrating on different frequencies. What
would it be like to tune into another plane of existence? Just ask a shaman. Humans have
been doing it for hundreds of thousands of years.
A shaman is a powerful guru who acts as an intermediary between these other dimensions and
our reality in order to heal others from emotional and physical maladies. This is done
through trancing, chanting, drumming, working with energy, consulting guides on "the other
side" and even engaging in psychic combat through meditative travels.
Shamanic practices and related mysticism are found in indigenous cultures worldwide, from
Asia to Africa, from North America to the Andes, but also in the roots of the world's
major religions, including Judaism and Buddhism.
Anthropologists from the West who have gone to study cultures with shamans have returned
to report life-altering experiences. This was the case most famously for Carlos
Castaneda, who documented it in "The Teachings of Don Juan." This also is what happened
to Michael Harner, who wrote "The Way of the Shaman."
It happened to me when I met Jodee Chizever last spring.
I was extremely curious to see for myself what shamanism was like and whether it could
help me overcome the emotional wounds I was suffering from. Still, as intrigued as I was,
I was also skeptical.
Shamanism seemed spiritual, and religion never appealed to me. I have long been an
atheist because of the Problem of Evil. I'm also opposed to blind faith. I'll believe it
when I see it, feel it or hear it, and no sooner.
What opened my mind to shamanism in the first place was a weird psychic experience. I had
just graduated from college with a degree in philosophy and anthropology when I went to
Red Bank with a good friend and sat down in front of a lady with a crystal ball. Just for
fun. But the woman looked at me and point-blank said, "You're a journalist." All bets
were off; the universe was weirder than I thought.
Chizever, too, was not what I expected. She's a friendly blond woman who has her Master's
degree in Public Administration and used to work for city government and non-profits,
which is just not quite how one envisions a shaman. But Chizever learned her skills
through years of study with a Peruvian medicine woman, American Indian healers and
Kabbalistic rabbis.
The most surprising thing of all was to see for myself the reality of her work. I had
come to her with some heavy issues overwhelming my heart. I left feeling relaxed and
blissed out. I continue to work with her whenever I feel the need to, or when I am
curious to learn from her.
Monday, for instance, Chizever and I sat across from one another, meditating. She sent a
surge of energy blasting through my body. I formed it into a ball of light, breathed it
into my lungs and set it on a path. It went barreling from my stomach to the tip of my
head, then shot fast down my spine. The sensation is difficult to describe in words, but
it was intense. It froze a huge grin on my face and left me feeling springy and light.
Images of blues, pinks and greens swirled in my mind's eye. And this was all before I
felt a quartz geode pulse like a heartbeat in my palm.
Calling this "alternative therapy" wouldn't do it justice. It's dimension-eclipsing.