Parable of a Post-Modern Shaman Apprentice

masked_healing_shamanOnce upon a time a post-modern-shaman apprentice traveled around the globe for decades meeting the greatest peace shamans, and collected a bag of tricks learned from all of them, and many of their tricks turned out to be the same, only with different names. Most important he discovered wisdom is often the ability to remember something obscured through sorcery. The apprentice began achieving a higher understanding of the vibrational universe and how to employ improvisational ritual, the medicine of the soul, to heal trauma.

Pretty soon, the apprentice was organizing enormous gatherings, attracting huge crowds and teaching others the tricks, healing people and educating them about how dark sorcerers had obscured important knowledge, and how they secretly manipulated war for profit, wars achieved by killing innocent people on both sides and having the same assassins do the killing dressed as the other side, while leaving a trail of blood away from the dark sorcerers, who were not even supposed to exist. In fact, if you even spoke the words “dark sorcerer,” you were imprisoned for life for paranoid insanity.

So when the black sorcerers discovered what the apprentice was doing, they immediately convicted him of paranoid insanity and locked him in a dungeon, chained to a stone wall, with barely enough food and bread to survive. However, after seven years of meditation, the apprentice was able to manifest a golden key that opened the locks and set him free again.

When he returned to the site of his former ceremonies (wearing a disguise), he discovered he’d been erased from history and when he asked someone about post-modern shamanism, he discovered everyone had been told that apprentice that was taken away many years ago was a fake shaman and never had any bag of tricks and no one had ever listened to anything he’d ever said and just ignored him entirely. And it was a party, not a ceremony anymore, and “ceremony” was now a bad word, something to snigger about and almost as dangerous as talking about sorcery. And the party wasn’t about harmonization or education, but intoxication. And not just cannabis either. The new goal was to crown the person who could consume the most substances without passing out.

The apprentice headed down to the docks, where he found an abandoned ship, decayed and rotting on the beach. A handful of his friends appeared over the next few weeks, many offered to help restore the boat for free and after months of hard work, the boat was ready to be launched. The apprentice had invested his entire life savings and planned to travel with his allies to a distant land so they could start the healing ceremonies again without fear of persecution from the dark sorcerers. He wanted to escape to a land of freedom where talking about sorcery and ceremonies wouldn’t land him in jail for life.

Suddenly, one of those who’d helped work on the boat suddenly remembered he’d once had a similar boat, and a desire to possess this boat became so great that he imagined this WAS his boat and nothing anyone could do or say would change his mind. After days of stewing in silence he suddenly became so enraged that he demanded his boat back and when the apprentice refused to turn it over, he slapped the apprentice across the face, challenged him to a duel, and then threw a cannon ball through the boat’s deck so it could not be launched anytime soon.

The apprentice and his allies formed an OM circle and began to pray.

Now please finish the story, what should happen and what’s going to happen?


One thought on “Parable of a Post-Modern Shaman Apprentice

  1. DId you ever finish it? Here is my humble try:

    The one that believed the boat was his was contempt with its destruction and his repeated sabotaging of his own happiness and left the group meditating. This one was never seen again, but at parties drinking and doping his memories away.

    The group was in deep meditation, inner and outer Om’s vibrating to the core of themselves, as the core of the boat. Pushed by their unconditional love for each other, the compassion and forgiveness for the camarade that destroyed the boat they managed to manifest a fully repaired boat in the morning.

    The group was strengthened as never before in their love, unity and faith. They anchored the boat not far away from the shore praying for the land they have chosen to exile from, praying for their fellow countrymen, and for the darkness within the heart of the black sorcerer to transmute into loving-kindness.

    The group meditated for many months, each developing great abilities for remote vision and remote sensing. They could now see everywhere in their world, into the past and into the future. They soon managed to reach a state where food was no longer needed. Their lifeforce coming from meditation alone.

    12 months after they left the shore, the black sorcerer was no more. The people had organized a coup and taken over the power from the rulers, now taken responsibility for their lives and building anew all that they could imagine. No one knew where the black sorcerer was, some doubted that he ever existed.

    The group that prayed knew.


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