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: 978-0-9848546-4-6

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: bill@spirittalkers.com

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.
 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

Spirit Talkers vii

 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

Acknowledgements ix
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.

x Spirit Talkers
 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 (…).

Preface xi
 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

Introduction 1
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

2 Spirit Talkers
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.

Introduction 3
 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

4 Spirit Talkers
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.

Introduction 5
 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-

6 Spirit Talkers
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.

Introduction 7
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.

8 Spirit Talkers
 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.

Introduction 9
 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?”

Chapter 1 Page 11
 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.

Page 12 Spirit Talkers

 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

Chapter 1 Page 13
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

Page 14 Spirit Talkers

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

Chapter 1 Page 15
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

Page 16 Spirit Talkers

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.

Chapter 1 Page 17
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.

Page 18 Spirit Talkers

 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

Chapter 1 Page 19
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.

Page 20 Spirit Talkers

 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

Chapter 1 Page 21
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

Page 22 Spirit Talkers

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

Chapter 1 Page 23
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.

Page 24 Spirit Talkers

 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

Chapter 1 Page 25
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

Page 26 Spirit Talkers

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

Chapter 1 Page 27
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,

Page 28 Spirit Talkers

 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

Chapter 1 Page 29
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

Page 30 Spirit Talkers

 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.

Chapter 1 Page 31
 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

Page 32 Spirit Talkers

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.

Chapter 1 Page 33
 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

Page 34 Spirit Talkers

 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

Chapter 1 Page 35
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

Page 36 Spirit Talkers

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

Chapter 1 Page 37
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

Page 38 Spirit Talkers

 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.

Chapter 1 Page 39
 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

Page 40 Spirit Talkers

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

Chapter 1 Page 41
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

Page 42 Spirit Talkers

 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

Chapter 1 Page 43
 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-

Page 44 Spirit Talkers

 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.

Chapter 1 Page 45
 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,

Page 46 Spirit Talkers

“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

Chapter 2 Page 47
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

Page 48 Spirit Talkers

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

Chapter 2 Page 49
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.

Page 50 Spirit Talkers

 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

Chapter 2 Page 51
 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

Page 52 Spirit Talkers

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,

Chapter 2 Page 53
 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

Page 54 Spirit Talkers

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

Chapter 2 Page 55
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

Page 56 Spirit Talkers

 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.

Chapter 2 Page 57
 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

Page 58 Spirit Talkers

 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

Chapter 2 Page 59
 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

Page 60 Spirit Talkers

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,

Chapter 2 Page 61
 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

Page 62 Spirit Talkers

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

Chapter 2 Page 63
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.

Page 64 Spirit Talkers

 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.

Chapter 2 Page 65
 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

Page 66 Spirit Talkers

 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:

Chapter 2 Page 67
 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

Page 68 Spirit Talkers

 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.

Chapter 2 Page 69
 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.

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 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

Chapter 2 Page 71
 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,

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 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

Chapter 2 Page 73
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

Page 74 Spirit Talkers

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

Chapter 2 Page 75
 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

Page 76 Spirit Talkers

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

Chapter 2 Page 77
 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

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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

Chapter 2 Page 79
 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

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 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

Chapter 2 Page 81
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

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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 2 Page 83
 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:

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 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.

Chapter 3 Page 85
 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

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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

Chapter 3 Page 87
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

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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

Chapter 3 Page 89
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.

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 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

Chapter 3 Page 91
“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

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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.

Chapter 3 Page 93
 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

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 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

Chapter 3 Page 95
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

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 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,

Chapter 3 Page 97
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

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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

Chapter 3 Page 99
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

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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

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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.

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 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

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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,

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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

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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

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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

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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

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 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

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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.

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 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

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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

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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

Chapter 4 Page 113

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

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 “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

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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

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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

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 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.

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 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

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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

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“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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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.

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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

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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.

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 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

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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

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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

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 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

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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

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 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

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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

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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

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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.

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 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

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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.

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 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.

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 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

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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

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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

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 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.

Chapter 4 Page 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.

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 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.

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 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.

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 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

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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

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 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

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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

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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

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 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

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 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

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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.

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 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

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 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

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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.

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 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

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 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.

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 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.

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 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.

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 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

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 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

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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.

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 [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

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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

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 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

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 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.

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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

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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

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 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.

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 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

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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

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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

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 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

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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…

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 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.

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 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-

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 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

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 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

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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

Chapter 5 Page 183

 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.

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 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,

Chapter 5 Page 185

 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.”

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 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

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 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.

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 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

Chapter 5 Page 189

 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.

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 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

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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

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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

Chapter 5 Page 193

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.

Page 194 Spirit Talkers

 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

Chapter 6 Page 195

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
Page 196 Spirit Talkers
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

Chapter 6 Page 197

 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

Page 198 Spirit Talkers

 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

Chapter 6 Page 199

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.

Page 200 Spirit Talkers

 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

Chapter 6 Page 201

 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.

Page 202 Spirit Talkers

 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

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 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

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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.

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 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

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 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

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 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,

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 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

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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

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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

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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

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 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

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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.”

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 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.

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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

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 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

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 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

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 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

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 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.

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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

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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

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 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

Chapter 6 Page 223

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

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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

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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

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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

Chapter 6 Page 227

 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

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 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.

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 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

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 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.

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 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

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 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

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 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

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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

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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

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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

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 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

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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.

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 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

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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

Chapter 7 Page 241

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

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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

Chapter 7 Page 243

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.

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 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

Chapter 7 Page 245

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

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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
Chapter 7 Page 247
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

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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

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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

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 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.

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 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

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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,

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 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

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 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

Chapter 7 Page 255

 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.

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 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

Chapter 7 Page 257

 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

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 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

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 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

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 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

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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

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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

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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

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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.

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 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

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 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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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 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

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 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

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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

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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.

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 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,

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 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

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 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!”

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 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.

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 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]

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 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

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 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

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 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

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 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

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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...

Chapter 8 Page 285

 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

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 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.

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 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-

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 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

Chapter 8 Page 289

 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

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 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

Chapter 8 Page 291

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.

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 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

Chapter 8 Page 293

 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

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 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.

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 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.

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 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.

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 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,

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 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

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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

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 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.

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 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,

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“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

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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

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 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,

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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

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 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.

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 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

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 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

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 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.

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 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

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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

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 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

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 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

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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

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 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

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 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.

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 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.

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 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

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 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

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 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.

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 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

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 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

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 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

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 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

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 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

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 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

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 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,

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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]

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 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.

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 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

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 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.

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 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

Chapter 8 Page 333

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

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 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?”

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 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

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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 8 Page 337

 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

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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.

Chapter 9 Page 339

 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

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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

Chapter 9 Page 341

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

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 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

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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

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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

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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.

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 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

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 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.

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 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

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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.

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 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

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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

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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

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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

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 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

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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.

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 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

Chapter 9 Page 357

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

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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

Chapter 9 Page 359

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.

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 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

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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

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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

Chapter 9 Page 363

 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.

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 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

Chapter 9 Page 365

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.

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 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.

Chapter 9 Page 367

 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

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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.

Chapter 9 Page 369

 “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

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 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.”

Appendix 371
 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

372 Spirit Talkers

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

Appendix 373
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-

374 Spirit Talkers

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.

Appendix 375
 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)—

376 Spirit Talkers

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.

Appendix 377
 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

378 Spirit Talkers

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).

Appendix 379
 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

380 Spirit Talkers

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

Appendix 381
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).

382 Spirit Talkers

 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).

Appendix 383
 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.

384 Spirit Talkers

 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.

Appendix 385
 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

386 Spirit Talkers

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-

Appendix 387
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.

388 Spirit Talkers

 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.

Appendix 389
 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

390 Spirit Talkers

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

Appendix 391
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

392 Spirit Talkers

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

Appendix 393
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

394 Spirit Talkers

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

Appendix 395
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

396 Spirit Talkers

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

Appendix 397
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.

398 Spirit Talkers

 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.
Appendix 399
 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.

400 Spirit Talkers

 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.

Appendix 401
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.

402 Spirit Talkers

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404 Spirit Talkers

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406 Spirit Talkers

 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

Endnotes Page 407

 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

Page 408 Spirit Talkers

 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

Endnotes Page 409

 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

Page 410 Spirit Talkers

 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

Endnotes Page 411

 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.
81. DeMallie 1984:47
82. DeMallie 1984:47

Page 412 Spirit Talkers

 83. DeMallie 1984:48
84. 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
106. Stevenson 1904:52
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

Endnotes Page 413

 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
13. Hultkrantz 1983:231
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

Page 414 Spirit Talkers

 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
65. Honigmann 1954:106
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

Endnotes Page 415

 72. Stevenson 1904:23
73. Tyler 1964:254
74. Brinton 1896:67, Spier 1930:101
75. James 1908:39
76. Troyer 1913:25
77. Stevenson 1904:23
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

Page 416 Spirit Talkers

 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

Endnotes Page 417

 59. DeMallie 1984:47
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
87. Stevenson 1904:418
88. Haile 1947a:10-11
89. Dorsey and Voth 1901:19
90. Haile 1947b:1-2
91. Wyman 1983:45
92. Voth 1901:75-79, 85
93. Schenk 1988:236

Page 418 Spirit Talkers

 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

Endnotes Page 419

 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
137. Hultkrantz 1977:135
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
144. Rosenblum and Kuttner 2006:201
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

Page 420 Spirit Talkers

 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
35. Harrington 1914:155
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

Endnotes Page 421

 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 1955:392-393
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

Page 422 Spirit Talkers

 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
94. Harrington 1921:76
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

Endnotes Page 423

 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
106. Turney-High 1937:29
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
115. Sturtevant 1954a:27
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

Page 424 Spirit Talkers

 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

Endnotes Page 425

 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
180. Sturtevant 1954a:403
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

Page 426 Spirit Talkers

 186. Dorsey and Voth 1902:251
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
14. Turney-High 1941:175
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

Endnotes Page 427

 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

Page 428 Spirit Talkers

 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
68. Harrington 1921:157
69. Allen in Elmendorf 1993:245
70. Allen in Elmendorf 1993:245
71. Allen in Elmendorf 1993:244-245
72. Allen in Elmendorf 1993:247
73. For the full account see Elmendorf 1993:242-249
74. Allen in Elmendorf 1993:244
75. Allen in Elmendorf 1993:247
76. e.g., see Renier 2005
77. Stefánsson 1914:344
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
85. Honigmann 1946:134
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

Endnotes Page 429

 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
100. Turney-High 1937:31
101. Turney-High 1937:31
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
110. Hallowell 1942:35
111. Ritzenthaler 1953b:200
112. Hallowell 1942:80
113. Schaeffer 1969:16
114. Hallowell 1942:24
115. Jenness 1935:65-66
116. Hallowell 1942:35
117. Jenness 1935:66
118. Tanner 1979:92
119. Coleman 1937:51
120. e.g., Lynd 1889:159
121. Schaeffer 1969:22
122. Lane 1952:52, LeJune in Thwaites 1897:v.6, 173
123. Hallowell 1942:45
124. Hoffman 1896:148
125. Cooper 1944:67
126. e.g., Riggs 1869:100-101
127. Hallowell 1942:43

Page 430 Spirit Talkers

 128. Thwaites 1897-1905:v.6, 165-167
129. Hallowell 1942:74
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
135. Hallowell 1942:68
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

Endnotes Page 431

 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
31. Ritzenthaler 1953b:179
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

Page 432 Spirit Talkers

 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
65. Stefánsson 1914:374
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

Endnotes Page 433

 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
110. Ritzenthaler 1953b:198
111. e.g., Beckwith 1889:246, Bourke 1889:172, Kelly 1939:156-
164, Parsons 1939:893, Rogers and Evernham 1983:107

Page 434 Spirit Talkers

 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

Endnotes Page 435

 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
165. Rosenblum and Kuttner 2006:150
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

Page 436 Spirit Talkers

 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

Endnotes Page 437

 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
204. Harrington 1914:219
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

Page 438 Spirit Talkers

 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

Endnotes Page 439

 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
55. Catches and Catches 1997:35
56. Catches and Catches 1997:103
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

Page 440 Spirit Talkers

 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
83. Elmendorf 1960:141
84. Frank Allen in Elmendorf 1993:188
85. Frank Allen in Elmendorf 1993:189
86. Hines 1993:136-140
87. Elmendorf 1960:140
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

Endnotes Page 441

 97. Wallis 1947:81
98. Osgood 1932:84
99. Dièreville 1933:183
100. Johnson 1943:78
101. Skinner 1914a:78
102. Dunbar 1882:748
103. Sturtevant 1954a:496
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
118. Sturtevant 1954a:376
119. Strong 1929:169
120. Hallowell 1960:39
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

Page 442 Spirit Talkers

 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

Endnotes Page 443

 163. de Laguna 1960:140
164. Haeberlin and Gunther 1930:78
165. Hallowell 1960:25
166. Hallowell 1960:49, note 11
167. Hallowell 1960:25
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.

Page 444 Spirit Talkers

 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
32. Hallowell 1992:80
33. Kehoe 1963:5-6
34. Kehoe 1990:194, 199
35. Lee 1959
36. Hallowell 1960:47, Grinnell 1901
37. Kehoe 2000:28

Endnotes Page 445

 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

Page 446 Spirit Talkers

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 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.

Achomawi, 274 Coos, 222

Algonquin, 225 Cowichan, 300
Apache, 5, 113, 116, 124, 165, 204, Kwantlen, 323
236, 256, 276, 291, 292, 345 Cree, 2, 26, 119, 207, 217, 228,
Chiricahua, 171, 173, 338 248, 251, 265
Cibecue, 249 Montana, 101
Mescalaro, 102 Plains Cree, 225, 308
White Mountain, 32, 107 Creek, 42, 150, 178, 203, 237, 318
Arkikra, 59, 132, 208, 283, 287- Taskigi, 106
288, 302, 320, 322, 328, 331- Crow, 11, 113, 168, 260
336 Dakota, see Sioux
Assiniboin, 170, 225, 293, 315 Deleware, 116, 121, 132, 168, 182,
Stoney, 179 195 211
Beaver, 170 Dene, 91
Bella Bella, 157, 326 Dene Tha, 389
Bella Coola, 294 Northern Dene, 60, 249
Blackfeet, 159, 179, 209 Eskimo, 54, 63, 109, 129, 151, 153,
Blood, 217, 225, 230 159, 197, 199, 203, 205, 235,
Peigan, 225, 266 253, 302, 360
Blackfoot, 116, 165, 169, 229, 232, Chugach, 294
302 Copper Inuit, 224
Cahuilla, 311, 314, 319 Ingalik, 289
Mountain 32 Inupiat, 77, 159
Cascade, 32, 224 Kobuk River, 152
Chehalis, 211 Kodiak Island, 116
Cowlitz, 324 Mackenzie Yukon, 28
Satsop, 304 Nunivak, 301
Chemehuevi, 209 Southern Yukon, 349
Cheyenne, 156, 162, 165, 168, 202, Tiagra, 197
225 Upper Yukon, 239
Southern, 170 Flathead, 115, 116, 169, 222
Chippewa, 102, 140, 147-149, 236, Fox, 48, 155, 179-180, 272
240, 252, 319 Gabrielino, 32
Chumash, 32, 292 Gros Ventre, 225, 227, 252
Cocopa, 273 Haida, 152, 161-162
Colville, 204, 310 Hidatsa, 124, 169, 182, 302
Comanche, 138, 290-291, 316 Hopi, 4, 23-24, 32, 50-51, 62-65,

Nations Index 523

 84-85, 106, 113, 118, 122, 126, Southern, 152
135, 181, 182, 183, 269, 282, Modoc, 327
301, 306, 320, 352 Mohegan, 63
Hupa, 155 Mono, 243
Inuit, see Eskimo Monachi, 292
Iroquois, 123, 156, 182, 248, 252, Narraganset, 273
255, 296, 307, 310 Naskapi, 120, 121
Cattaraugus, 255 Montagnais, 199, 225, 229,
Confederacy, 94 230, 297
Onondaga, 238 Natchez, 150
Seneca, 63, 113, 255, 270 Navajo/Navaho, 37, 43, 44, 114,
Jumanos, 268-269 126, 131, 132, 141, 142, 179,
Kalispel, 223 210, 248, 293, 301, 302, 351,
Kansa, 159 358, 362
Kaska, 106 Nez Perce, 158
Keres, Northern Dene, see Dene
Western, 32 Ojibwa, 55, 56, 105, 116, 119, 120,
Kickapoo, 272 121, 146, 164, 169, 170, 176,
Kiowa, 103, 225 179, 225, 226, 231, 234, 237,
Klamath, 31, 107, 116, 184-187, 243, 250, 252, 271, 296-298,
283, 292, 305 311, 325, 329-330, 349-351, 419
Klikitat, 182, 223, 224 Mississaugas, 255
Kootenai, 36, 159 Otchipwe, 254
Kutchin, 321 Plains-Ojibway (Bungi), 168,
Kutenai, 115, 132, 200, 209 177, 272
Kwakiutl, 124, 205, 320, 325, 326 Okanagon, 253
Kwantlen, 300, 305, 323 Omaha, 37, 158, 257, 312, 344
Lakota, 16, 18, 49, 73, 75-75, 82, Onondaga, see Iroquois
84, 86, 92, 108, 111, 120, 125- Osage, 96, 318, 348
127, 129-130, 136, 139, 142, Ottawa, 56, 89, 216-217, 225, 295
156, 163, 165, 192, 199, 201, Paiute, 177, 203, 352
214, 222, 227, 241, 245, 251, Kaibab, 82
256, 259-260, 285, 298, 345, Las Vegas, 314, 328
349, 350, 353-357, 362, 365 Northern, 250
Lillooet, 244, 282, 303, 323 Owens Valley, 158, 289
Luiseño, 107 Southern, 32, 175, 205, 210
Lummi, 216, 312 Papago (Tòhono O odham), 128,
Maidu, 127, 267, 312 246, 271, 274, 301
Nisenan, 267, 275 Paviotso, 164, 244, 326
Northern, 119, 313 Pawnee, 263, 302, 308, 321
Southern, 313 Pit River, 96
Malecite, 277 Pennacook, 296
Mandan, 225 Penobscot, 34
Menomini, 55, 56, 119, 225, 272, Ponca, 176, 289, 290, 306, 321
296, 297, 352 Potawatomi, 63, 249, 272
Micmac, 158, 236, 302, 307, 329 Forest Potawatomi, 63, 310
Miwok, 156, 310 Powhatan, 32, 170, 209

524 Spirit Talkers

Pueblo, 43, 44, 81, 107, 183, 268, Takelma, 31, 222
276, 301, 306, 310, 320, 360 Tanaina, 154, 300
Isleta, 203, 268, 321, 323 Tena, 112, 276
Jemez, 196 Tenino, 115, 116
Nambē, 203 Timucua, 48
Piros, 269 Tlingit, 48, 49, 131, 138, 139, 140,
Taos, 321 164, 196, 221, 300, 309, 312,
Tewa, 46, 114, 224 325
Zia (Sia), 180, 320 Tantakwan, 280, 309
Quinault, 115, 159, 178, 274, 305 Tsimshian, 57, 309
Santee, 262, 301 Nass River, 157
Canadian Santee, 301 Nisqa, 157
Sarcee, 116, 224 Tuscarora, 243
Sarsi, 225 Tuskeruros, 206
Satudene, 307 Twana, 117, 211, 303, 304, 327
Sauk, 115, 169, 272 Chehalis, 211
Saulteaux, 225 Umatilla, 132
Sekani, 202 Ute, 102, 247, 290
Seminole, 107, 155, 170, 311 Ouray Ute, 290
Cow Creek, 182 Wailaki, 117, 205
Mikasuki, 170, 182, 309 Wampanaog, 347
Seneca, see Iroquois Washo, 209, 249, 312
Serrano, 310 Winnebago, 120, 127, 216
Shasta, 124, 209 Wintu, 116, 153, 155, 182, 218,
Shoshone, 168, 189, 191, 250 221, 222, 242, 312, 323, 361
Sinkaietk, 315 Wyandot, 53
Sioux, 99, 101, 102, 124, 168, 171, Yakima, 47, 220, 224, 254, 304,
177, 202, 237-238, 261, 263, 324
283-286, 349, 364 Yana, 254
Brule, 287 Yavapai, 120, 182
Canadian Dakota, 307 Yokut, 116, 117, 182, 214, 295
Dakota, 54, 112, 124,165, Yuki, 177
207, 225 Yuma, 176
Lakota, see main entry Yurok, 112, 121, 144, 327
Oglala, 168, 173, 282 Zuni, 61-62, 78-82, 90, 98, 99,
Santee, see main entry 106-107, 108, 114, 124, 128,
Yankton, 127, 164, 306, 321 180, 209, 210, 254, 273, 305,
Skokomish, 303, 304 306, 360
Slave,
Fort Nelson, 37, 218
Stalo, 311

Nations Index 525

 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, 276
display, 104, 105, 125, 195,
239, 245, 247
each one unique, 252
drawing of, 6, 30
objects manifest on, 135,
152, 214, 215
smudging of, 245
sweat lodge, 129-130, 136,
152, 264
yuwipi, 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, 60
armchair 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
526 Spirit Talkers
going native, 61, 77-78
medical, 247
on herbalist, 234, 237
on trance, 247
participant observation, 61,
63, 68, 77
psychoanalytic view of
shamans, 64, 199
taboo 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, 362
Black 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, 108
Brigham, 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
Index 527
Buffalo, 156, 159, 334-336, 343,
345
clay, 335-336
hunt, 127
calling, 162-164
skin/hide, 56, 125, 166, 169,
203, 230, 232, 233, 266,
288, 289, 294
cap, 74
skull/head, 136, 169
transforming 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, 156
and doubters, 52, 118, 131-
135, 147-149, 155, 196,
198-199, 209, 241, 282,
283, 286, 289, 301, 339
as wish fulfillment, 36, 140
Bear Dance, 305
Big House, 132
Bole Maru, 116-117, 323-324
buffalo calling, 162-163
 chantway, 248 Kachina Dance, 84
children not allowed at, 226, krilaq, 224
349 loss of, 60, 92, 196-197, 240
Crow Dance, 349 Medicine Dance, 127, 291
declared illegal, 5, 60, 101- Medicine Lodge, 54, 59, 250,
102, 119 252, 283, 331
diagnosis, 242-246 Midewiwin, 250-251, 297,
a form of divination, 319, 325, 330
243 names for, 250
more difficult than nature of, 48, 104, 113, 123,
healing, 246 126-127, 131, 139, 141-
False-Face, 252, 255 142, 237-238, 241, 245,
Feather Dance, 320, 326 256, 257, 283, 293, 299,
Fire Dance, 299, 300 312, 336-337
fire-walking, 68, 72 participants increase power
Five-Stick, 245 of, 68, 123, 133, 140, 153,
for finding lost objects/ 199, 256
persons, 158, 211-214, peyote, see main entry
216-221, 230, 327 Raingod, 114
for healing, 246-261 rattlesnake, 183, 252, 295
chantway, 248 renewal, 168
Eagle Dance, 63 Shaking Tent, 119, 147, 148,
ghost sickness, 172 160, 164, 199, 225-233,
Mountain Chant, 301 252, 291-292, 349
patient belief in, 241, Shunáwanùh, 59, 283, 331-
257, 259 336
post traumatic stress, Snake Dance (Hopi), 182-184
249 Spirit Canoe, 252
psychological Sun Dance, 5, 92, 120, 129,
treatments, 248 130, 138, 165, 177, 194,
resuscitating the dead, 344, 357, 362, 363, 412
265-266, 289, 325, test, 315
328, 331 sweat lodge, 2, 52, 60, 92,
smallpox, 38, 257 101, 131, 135, 138, 139,
typhoid, 250 152, 158, 166, 167, 215,
with plants, 235-241 219, 226, 245, 273, 357,
358, 362, 366
Ghost Dance, 73, 76, 101,
177, 248, 302 account of, 130-131,
191-194
Bella Bella, 326
banned, 60
Zuni, 114
details of, 125, 127,
Green Corn, 156
129, 136
gun, 171
disrespect shown for,
hunting rituals, 158

528 Spirit Talkers

 136-137
done in secret, 93
healing ceremony
account, 264-265
inipi, 108, 130, 136,
262
revitalization of, 359,
362
Tapa Wanka Yap (Tossing the
Ball), 362
Tawaru kutchu (Big sleight-
of-hand), 321
Tewa Raingod, 114
To Be Cut In Two, 204
Tsitsika (Everything is not
real), 325-326
Twenty-Day Ceremony, 321
vision quest, 92, 101, 113,
152, 202, 298-299, 349
banned, 60
begins in childhood,
115
language, 222
nature of, 88, 200,
344, 350, 354, 356
source of power, 86,
88, 222, 273, 351
Wagiksuyabi, 293
Wahla, 283, 305
Wawan, 258
Winter Guardian Spirit
Dance, 283
winter solstice, 92
Wuwuchim, 64
Yeles, 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
Index 529
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, 225
Consciousness, 3
altered states, 30-32, 76,
103-105, 343
as a form of energy, 341
as a quantum mechanical
process, 41
in inanimate objects, 91
phenomenology of, 104-105
related to human evolution,
340-344
related to quantum
mechanics, see quantum
mechanics
Copenhagen interpretation, see
Niels Bohr
Copernicus, 20
Coppermine River, 217 Seeing Spirit, 80
Cramped Hand, 290 Star Gazers, 210-211
Crazy Horse, 7, 171, 262, 355-356, string figures, 205
Djun, 280-281
powers of, 173-174
Crookes, Sir William, 16 Doc White Singer, 142
Crow Dog, Jerome, 260-261 Doctor Bob, 304
Crow Dog, Leonard, 260 Doctor Mink, 150-151
Curie, Madame Maria, 13 Domenech, Emmanuel, 48
Cushing, Frank Hamilton, 61-63, Dorsey, James, 290
78, 80, 81, 128, 254, 306, 360 Drayton, John, 2
Cyrus John, 120 Dream(s), 48, 120, 169, 247, 299
a form of diagnosis, 245
Darwin, Charles, 14, 104, 340 as a source of power, 5, 34,
86, 116 132, 151, 165-167,
Datura species, 32, 101, 209
182, 209, 225, 226, 273,
Dawkins, Richard, 11, 43 323, 325, 349
Day Star, 165 bear-dreamer, 321
Debunkers, 11 explained, 51, 248
Deloria, Ella, 112 designs from, 168, 255
DeMallie, Raymond J., 74, 356 prophet, 224
reveal medicinal use of
Denny, Sir Cecil, 232
plants, 237
Densmore, Francis, 81, 86 100, seen same as ordinary
140, 177, 271, 319 reality, 118
Dick Mahwee, 244 Drums, 86, 233, 258, 317, 329
Divination, 36, 38, 101, 160, 165, drumming 31,139, 148
188, 204-213, 216, 221, 223- for contacting spirits, 121,
225, 227, 243 160-161, 198
by weight, 223-224 for trance-induction, 31, 139,
Cherokee bead, 149, 150-151, 198-199, 226, 302
243 main ceremonial instrument,
for answering questions, 221- 31
225 Du Bois, Cora, 254
for thieves, 206, 209, 210,
214-215
Eagle Nest Butte, 200, 356
Frenzy Witchcraft, 210
Eagle Sun, vii
Hand-trembler, 210
nature of, 204, 213 Early, Dan, viii
Navajo, 210-211 Edelman, Gerald, 87
scapulimancy, 206 Edmore Green, vii
scrying, 224 Eigen, Manfred, 342

530 Spirit Talkers

Einstein, Albert, 19-21, 22, 24, 27, gambling, see medicine
32-33, 41, 143, 339, 340 powers > gambling
Electron, 23, 27 guessing, 79-80, 273-275
Eliade, Mircea, 27, 30, 105, 111 races, 275
recklessness of, 273
Erdoes, Richard, 6
string-figure, 205
Ernie Rainbow, vii, 5
Garland, Hamlin, 183
Gayton, A. H., 117
Fanny Brown, 155, 218, 222
Geller, Uri, 33, 40-41
Fanny Flounder, 327
Geronimo, 171
Fasting, 48, 88, 113, 116, 129, 131,
powers of, 172-173
165, 166, 175, 225, 237, 273,
Ghost, 230, 249, 266, 302, 334
312, 315, 344, 351
Giago, Tim, 365
FBI, 204
Gifford, Edward, 120
Feather Cult, 182
Gill, Sam, 141
Fewkes, J. Walter, 64-65, 135
Goodall, Thomas, 132
Flaherty, Robert J., 109
Goose, 163-164
Flatstone, 227
Gould, Stephen, 343
Fletcher, Alice, 37, 63, 257-259
Graves, Charles S., 184-188
Fools Crow, 75, 134-135, 201, 214,
237-238, 259-260, 262, 283- Great Spirit, 50, 105, 106, 195,
284, 364 207, 298, 299, 351, see also
spirit helpers
Forester, David, ii, viii
Great Mystery, 8, 50, 106,
Forsythe, Colonel, 171
139, 226
Fort, Grinnell, George Bird, 91
Benton, 217
Grahame, 202 Haile, Father Berard, 210
MeLeod, 202 Half Moon, 168
Nelson, 37, 218
Hallowell, Irving, 227, 350, 351
Randall, 322
Simpson, 57 Hallucinations, 32, 101
Francis Mitchell, vii Harner, Michael, vii, 30, 200
Freud, Sigmond, 248 Harrington, M. R., 348
Frontenac, Count, 89 Hart, Mickey, 188
Harvard University, 15-16, 17, 104
Galileo, 20 Harvey, Fred/Harvey House, 186
Games, 37, 272 He Crow, 316-318
ball, 275 Head mode versus heart mode, 85,
dice tossing, 273-274 87, 89, 92, 94, 98, 127
head mode, 94, 97, 104 129,
Index 531
 142, 257
heart mode, 107, 110, 122,
142, 246, 248, 347
more 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, 340-344
Huxley, Aldous, 104, 347
Illinois River, 217
Indians,
“apples”, 92
532 Spirit Talkers
as mystics, 7, 114, 115
assimilation efforts, 60
believe to be beasts, 46
breath training, 79, 107-108
characteristics summary,
344-347
don’t compromise, 100
education of, 90, 94-98, 346
boarding school, 84, 93
plant use, 237
first gained citizenship, 13
first recognized as being
human, 46-47
Hopi friendlies versus
hostiles, 92
humor, 222
land theft, 47
life as a way of being, 89-90,
92, 102, 351
murder rare, 246, 268
not thinkers, 97, 98, 102,
108-109
pragmatic, 36
regard for medicine powers,
1
religion,
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, 362
traditional, 8
accustomed to
 supernatural events, Kushkan, 138, 309-310
11 Kutter, Fred, 142-143
traditional versus
progressive, 5, 91-92, 358
La Flesche, Francis, 63, 256
view of reality, 73
Lafortune, Father, 54
Jack Stewart, 158 Laing, R. D., 104
Jake Hunt, 182, 223 Lakota Times, 365
James Moves Camp, 35 Lame Deer, Archie, vii, 129, 264
James, George Wharton, 81 Lame Deer, John Fire, 129, 346
James, William, 17 Language, 4
Jantsch, Erich, 342 body, 96
breath related to sacred in,
Jenness, Diamond, 205, 224
108
Jesuits, 52, 54, 106, 159, 225, 340 doctor’s, 27-28, 222
French, 48, 51 lacking in physics, 27, 35
Jetté, Father, 111 mathematical, 29
Jimson weed, 32, 101, 273 words as boxed-thoughts 4,
John King, 147-149 113, 351, 354
John Quinn, 115 words as fake explanations,
4
Johnny Monday, 203
Laski, Vera, 114
Johnson, Olga, 132
Lawiqam, 211
Joseph Eagle Elk, 256
Lechner, E. Theodore, viii
Jugglers, see shamans
Legerdemain, 282, 283, 296
LeJune, Father, 199, 225, 227, 228
Kawbawgam, 105
Lewis, David, 42, 203, 237
Kehoe, Alice, 352-354, see also,
Lishwailait, 224
Appendix
Listening to the Ground, 162
Kellar, Professor Harry, 285-287
Little people, see spirit helpers
Keppler, Joseph, 63
Logan, Senator John A., 62
Ketegas, 325
Long, Joseph K., 25, 28
Kilpatrick, Jack and Anna, 150
Long, Max Freedom, 66
Kisto, Gerald, 246
Lowie, Robert, 290
Klamath River, 184
Luls, 132
Kobuk River, 152
Lynd, James, 124
Kohl, Johann Georg, 146
Korzybski, Alfred, 4
Mack, John, 15-16
Kot Lota, vii
Mackenzie River, 217
Krippner, Stanley, vii, 25
Index 533
Magic, 2, 34, 59, 67, 86, 146, 201,
282, 283, 312, 361
amulets, 152
belief in, 67, 82, 133, 196,
329
black/evil, 54, 210, 365
charms, 51, 272
fire, 68, 71, 73
gun, 289
in everyday life, 113
in warfare, 175
magical,
powder, 272
power contest, 311
powers, 52, 66, 119,
158, 159, 275, 309,
311, 319, 326
thinking, 28
magician, 43, 44, 49, 284,
285-287, 301
nature of, 9, 50, 68, 76, 282,
350
related to singing, 121
Road of, 46
shows/performances, 59,
282, 291, 330, 331
Mails, 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
534 Spirit Talkers
Medicine,
Indian meaning of, 49-50
Medicine men/women, see
shamans
Medicine powers, see also
ceremonies, power objects
air medicine, 202
animation of objects, 43-44,
320-330
as 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, 352
corpse medicine, 279-280
danger of, 350
earliest record of, 53
extinction of, 118, 196
fire handling, 43, 53, 295-
303
flying, see shamans > flights
for manifesting food, 164
for manifesting objects, 44
money, 324
for obtaining food, 156-164
animals with prime
pelts, 157
calling game, 163-164
finding game, 158-161,
206
making hunting easier,
177
manifesting food, 164
roping 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, 165-174
Bever medicine, 170
individually owned,
168
integral to, 165, 169,
175
invulnerability to
bullets, 170-171, 174
war shamans, 169, 175
for weather control, 176-184
cloud splitting, 178
multiple weather
medicines, 177
objects used for, 181-
184
rain, 43, 74, 171-172,
176, 179-181, 184-
188
tornado control, 188
used in warfare, 170,
179
for walking on water, 282
formulas, 122, 149-150
gambling, 273-276
ghost power, 172
healing, see ceremonies > for
healing
hunting, 159, 161-162
calling game, 163-164
locating game, 160-161
individual, 147, 151
inkonze, 37, 60
limitation of, see shamanism
loss of, 5, 93, 121, 365
love medicines, 271-272, 297
never really lost, 5, 86-87,
362-363
power contests, 282, 312-320
power displays, 55, 59, 133,
Index 535
134, 138, 144, 202, 204,
282-283, 290, 291, 292,
293, 294
invulnerability to
bullets, 287-291,
329, 331-333
proof of, 3, 27
psychic vision, 79, 80, 273
seen 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, 115-117
swallowing, 303-310
viewed as a mystery, 4
witnessed 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, 132
Black Chins, 168
False-Face, 252, 255
Fan Strikers, 296
Galaxy Fraternity, 305
Grand Medicine, 56, 250-
252, see also ceremonies
> Midewiwan
Husk-Face, 255
Iruska, 302
nature of, 256-257
Medicine Lodge, 297
members executed, 270
 power feats of, 59, 282, 283,
296, 302, 306, 310, 331
Priests of the Bow, 62
secret societies category, 144
Snake Society, 182-183
war societies, 175
Dog Soldiers, 170
Black Chins, 168
Kit Fox, 260
Yayatü, 301, 320-321
Mensturation, 138, 144
menses, 278
moon time taboo, 137-139,
155
Merrimac River, 296
Midjistega, 120
Miracle, 11, 51, 104, 114, 118, 270,
282, 284, 339
humans as, 344
Missionaries, ix, 47, 48, 50, 52, 54-
55, 92, 93, 106, 154, 111, 210,
350, 365, see also Jesuits
called “dust eyes,” 50, 269
competition between, 51
destroyed 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
536 Spirit Talkers
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, 118
and plant medicines, 236
as a form or prayer, 159, 256
as “feeding” a power, 154
as related to belief, 51, 40-41,
241, 280
works at all levels of reality,
143
Occam’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., 104 155-156, 204, 225,
350
reproduce themselves,
Pain, Duncan, 6
155, 251
Paint, 288-289
caxwu, 211-213, 220, 327
Pandora, 147 chant, see songs
Paraphenomena, 143 charms, 48, 49, 51, 113, 116,
Parapsychologists, 146, 151, 152, 153, 204,
FBI records on, 204 221
Parapsychology, 17, 25-26, 28-29, binding of, 200
33 blinded by, 155
Cherokee, 150
CIA review of, 25
discharming, 183-184
development of psychic
vision, 79-80, 273 love, 271-272
international word for, 40 reproduce themselves,
251
meta-analysis of, 25
snake, 183
non-local viewing, 37
war, 169
Pareja, Father, 48
Cheyenne Sacred Arrows, 15,
Parker, Arthur C., 63, 113, 122 168
Park, Willard, 117 crystals, 211, 224, 243, 275,
Parsons, Elsie Clews, 79, 124, 209, 276
276 enchanted objects, 44
Pedro, King Dom, 78 feeding of, 154-155, 184, 247,
Pete Catches, 298-299 251, 279
fetish, 108, 125, 151, 181,
Peyote, 32, 37, 101-103
320
Pijart, Father, 53, 295 gains power over time, 153
Plenty Coup, 165-167 hematite, 125, 220-221
Pocahontas, 204 invisible, 153, 162
Point, Father, 54 kila, 224
Poor Wolf, 169 kikituk, 253
Living Solid Face mask
Pope Alexander VI, 46
(Misingw), 132, 211
Pope Paul III, 46-47
masks, 49, 58, 182, 214, 255,
Power objects, 151-156, see also 309
sacred pipe medicine bag/bundle, 86,
amulets, 144, 151, 158, 165, 113, 151, 155, 159, 167,
231, 273, 315, 316 169, 238-239, 291, 348
feeding of, 154-155 medicine stick, 294
for warfare, 165 migis/mide shell, 251
manifestation of, 152 multiple themselves, 155
nature of, 152, 153, nature of, 152, 155

Index 537
 power stick, 327
return if lost, 155, 325, 329
sila (poison sticks), 313
Twins Plaything, 182
White Buffalo Calf Pipe, 156
Powers, William, 355
Prayer, 3, 39, 362
as a wish-fulfillment process,
140
as form of hope, 147
as spirit-power-thinking, 121
importance of, 38, 142, 144
need for sincerity, 48, 121-
127, 141, 159, 242, 256,
299, 344-345, 362
offerings, 125, 127
paho, 181
prayer sticks, 125-126,
181
tobacco ties, 125, 127,
257, 262, 356
practice of, 125, 127
repetition of, 122, 126, 141,
181, 339, 345
words as objects, 85, 142
words 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
538 Spirit Talkers
for herbalists, 238, 240
for hunting, 157, 158
for Shaking Tent, 226
for Snake Dance, 182
for war, 175, 249
nature of, 123-124, 127, 131,
137-139, 154, 279, 339,
344
of Roman Nose, 171
plants for, 124
cedar, 124, 298, 299
sage, 75, 152, 201, 260,
261, 262, 264
sweet grass, 124, 298,
299
smudging, 124, 125, 139,
154, 248, 299
stops one’s thinking, 344
use of tobacco for, 100
wiping, 124, 249
Quantum entanglement, 33, 91,
140, 213, 270, 369
and witchcraft, 270, 279
Quantum mechanics,
all minds related, 340
enigma of, 142-143
hidden variables, 41
interrelated 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, 24
related to shamanism, see
shamanism
translocation, 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, 313
for calling spirits, 49, 139
for controlling weather, 179
gourd, 243
skin, 263
stick rattles, 148
Rawat, Prem, iii
Reality,
and the observer effect, 22
as a fluid process, 3, 7, 9, 23-
24, 41, 89, 118, 122, 142,
339
as a mirror of language, 37
materialistic view of, 13, 17,
18, 20, 23, 24, 26
seen 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, 358
gossip, 222
Hopi, 84
Kiowa, 103
Pine Ridge, 73, 138, 355, 357
Rosebud, 6, 202, 285, 355
Standing Rock, 54
Index 539
superintendent, 135
Rhine, 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, 258
for bringing rain, 179, 316
for splitting clouds, 178
in power display, 306, 314,
315, 320
in sweat lodge ceremony, 129
lit without a match, 302
nature of, 100-101, 158
prelude to calling spirits,
266, 284, 292, 298, 329
presentation of, 41, 219, 241
Salzer, Robert, 63
Sandoz, Mari, 356
Sandpaintings, 126, 132
Sansile, 321
Saskatchewan River, 315
Saybrook University, vii
Science,
rules of, 12
sacred 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
Shamans,
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, 30
divination, 244
entered at will, 196
induction of, 39, 49, 86, 139,
161, 226
limited to humans, 341
recognition 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, 345
core features of, 3, 4, 7, 8,
12, 27, 31, 43, 111, 123-
124, 141, 143, 161, 339
delay in practice, 117
demonstrative, 282
limitation of, 38-39, 122-123,
144, 243, 246, 343
nature of, 120-121, 195-196,
239, 252
not studied, 26, 132, 349
related to breath, 105-108,
124, 136, 148, 158, 181,
540 Spirit Talkers
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, 279
rules of, 9, 32, 41, 105,
111, 168, see also spirit
helpers > rules
abuse of, 5, 13, 54, 93, 101-
102, 120, 178, 357-358,
365
all knowing, 39, 169, 242
as adversary to missionaries,
51
as 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, 203
binding of, 199-200, 207,
225-227, 261-262, 291-
292, 349
born holy, 354
classification of, 4, 26, 50,
143-144, 197, 252
djessakid, 225-226
dog understanders, 224-225
don’t do ceremonies with
whites present, 131, 147,
185
fakes, 52, 133, 249, 348, 353
fear of, 267, 358
flights of, 197-203, 204, 267,
 297, 302, 310, 312, 352
ghost doctor, 273
have more than normal
power, 117, 156, 167
healing, see ceremonies > for
healing
herbalists, 234-241
knowledge of plants,
237
plants recorded, 235,
237
plant medicine testing,
236
spirit of plants, 235,
238
huhuna dancers, 214
jessakkid, 231-232
Kapina, 180
linguistic distinction of, 117
payment of, 119, 241-242,
353
picked up by spirits, 200-201
powers tested, 79-80, 134-
137, 224-225, 287-288,
304-305
seers, 221, 224, 226, 297
shamanic call, 88, 247
sorcerers/witches, 251, 267-
268
attacks, 277
battle, 276
Bear-Walker, 310
gambling powers, 273-
276
killed, 210, 270, 275,
277-278
names for, 267
poisons, 278-279
send illness, 270, 276-
277
special strength of, 52, 196,
226, 300, 325
sucking doctors, 252
Index 541
disease-objects, 243,
252-253, 254
remove actual objects,
254
termed “doctors”, 52
training of, 5, 88, 98, 101,
113, 337
use 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, 293-293
Shaman’s Drum magazine, 354
Short Jim, 153-154
Siludhaup, 176
Simmons, Leo, 84
Sinal, 181
Sitting Bull, 99,
powers of, 171-172
Sits 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, 153
chant, 44, 71, 151, 190, 293
chanting, 190, 202,
318
Snake, 135
symbol, 210
to drive off evil spirit,
205
discharming, 184
 for love medicines, 271
for plant medicines, 238
Omaha mystery song, 343
power songs, 86-87, 105, 323
serve as a form of prayer,
360, 362
Sonic 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, 178
baohi’gan, 34
Bat, 249
Beaver, 219
Buffalo, 136
control of, 117
Coyote, 172, 210, 260-261
Double-Headed Serpent, 205
Fish, 204, 309
Gila monster, 210
Great Man, 121
Great Mystery, 8, 50, 106,
139, 226
Great Spirit, 50, 105, 106,
195, 207, 298, 299, 351
Little people (dwarfs, elves),
76, 156, 165, 167, 202,
211, 237
Manito, 226, 227
Manedo, 250
Manido, 231, 232, 237
Manitou, 116, 117
Manitto, 52, 115
Masauwu, 64-65
must be accepted by, 152,
349
542 Spirit Talkers
nature of, 2, 7, 16, 31, 32,
34, 36, 38, 76, 77-78, 101,
118, 139, 220, 222, 223,
264, 302
never questioned, 137
operate at quantum level,
118
plants, see shamans >
herbalists
possession by, 27, 53, 213
rules, 35, 41, 45, 151, 161,
350
Thunder Beings, 174, 176,
179, 208, 317
Turtle (Mikenak), 176, 227
Wealthy, 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, 82
assumption of, 11-13, 15, 18,
28, 43, 45, 76, 82, 111,
143, 180, 338, 339, 352,
363
beings, 49, 86, 126, 165
level, 32, 34, 88
plant, 100
power 50, 102, 115-117, 147,
 157, 165, 271, 274, 311,
321
ridicule of, 13
supernormal, 82
suppression 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, 100
Tohma, 302
Trance, 13, 39, 52, 153, 216,
221, 280, 301, 309, 363,
Index 543
see also Shamanic State of
Consciousness
as mystic consciousness, 7
by means of psychoactive
plants, 30, 32, 34
connected to breath, 106
core feature of shamanism,
4, 27, 105
divination, 210, 218, 244-245
full trance, 31, 139-140, 221-
222, 244
induction, 32, 34, 105, 139,
144, 244, 247, 343, 369
as techniques of
ecstasy, 30, 111, 105
by drumming, 31, 199
by songs, 86
skilled at, 88
limited to humans, 341
of white mediums, 13, 213
seen same as ordinary
reality, 118
state, 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
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
544 Spirit Talkers
Will (human), 34-38
as a force, 345
Willier, 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.