Jaime Meyer, the author of “Drumming the Soul Awake” is a seasoned shamanic practitioner. With over 30 years of shamanic study, extensive work with spirits, and guidance from diverse teachers, he has become a respected figure in the field. Jaime’s diverse background includes a Master’s Degree in Theology and the Arts and a notable role as the President of the board of directors for the International Society for Shamanic Practice. For two decades, he has led drumming circles and ceremonial events in the Minneapolis-St. Paul area and has worked with thousands of clients and students. His journey to become a shamanic healer and teacher was not a choice but a calling, developed over 27 years of dedication before formally working with clients in 2011. MysticMag has the opportunity to spend some time with Jaime.
Can you explain how shamanic practices and techniques differ from traditional medical and psychological healing methods, and how they can offer effective ways to work with anxiety, depression, and trauma?
The Western medical model is rooted in a philosophy that says only what can be observed and measured can be called real. Everything else is fantasy and not to be trusted. From this standpoint, the body is regarded as a highly intricate machine. Consequently, Western medicine has primarily focused on approaches such as chemical treatments and surgery for healing. Even psychology, which encompasses a wide array of therapeutic methods, emerged from this Western medical perspective. In psychology, issues are often attributed to the brain, or often seen through a chemical lens. Or, issues are attributed to observable experiences like childhood trauma or family systems – factors within our immediate physical and relational environment.
It’s not at all that antidepressants or cardiac bypass surgery or talk therapy are useless. But they are just some of the healing tools available to human beings. Western medicine has been “discovering” that stress, loneliness and meaninglessness cause mental and physical illness. These are spiritual maladies. You can make the symptom of stress vanish with a chemical, so that the person can return to the world of society to function. But the chemical doesn’t heal the issue. Not that long ago, massage, chiropractic and acupuncture were laughable to doctors. But the medical world is becoming more and more open to modalities that were once considered quackery. Healing touch is regularly offered in hospitals now, and indigenous shamans are being invited into the mix more and more.
You mentioned that shamans view life as sacred, and your work aims to remind people of this sacredness. Could you elaborate on how this perspective can impact personal growth and wellness?
In so many ways, the Western world has drained away our connection with scaredness and beauty. In Western culture, reason and logic are regarded as the fundamental criteria for assessing truth and reality. In other words, we are told that it is our reason and logic that serve as the filter through which everything must pass to determine if it is real or fake. However, the logical mind is not inherently concerned with beauty; it primarily deals with practicality and making connections in the physical world. Beauty transcends the boundaries of the logical mind. This is why many forms of art and spiritual practices transport us beyond the confines of logic and into the realm of beauty, which, in my view, is synonymous with the sacred.
In our Westernized society, much of the sense of the sacred has been eroded, replaced by what I refer to as the “industrial machine mind.” We are urged and expected to see the world and ourselves as a machine. This includes our bodies, our minds, our daily work, our relationships. The job of the machine is to always do the same thing, always be consistent, never imagine operating outside its prescribed parameters, never waver in its duty and vision, never break down. This is a very shrunken world that leaves little room for sacredness and beauty, which operate through variation, surprise, patience, curiosity and deep attention. As one of my early mentors, a Mayan shaman, used to say, “The sacred and beauty are utterly useless in this world.” From the Western viewpoint, beauty is considered an unnecessary expense. This is why many contemporary buildings lack the grace and elegance of earlier architectural works; beauty is often sacrificed for cost-effectiveness. That teacher went on to say that the utter uselessness of beauty is exactly why it is so critical to us. Humans cannot live without beauty. They go crazy without it. They fall into a dark hole. Beauty is a cleanser and protector against the death force, which is our constant companion and our finest teacher. Death is actually the mother of beauty and meaning. But when we go without beauty for too long, the death force becomes too predominant; it closes in around us and begins to define our reality, and instead of teaching us to place our attention and our actions on the preciousness of life, it begins to just calls us toward it, and we sink into nihilism.
The subversive secret is that the rational mind pretends it runs the whole company, but it doesn’t. It turns out that human beings frequently make decisions based on what they find beautiful and sacred before they consider practicality, but the grip of the industrial machine mind forces them to struggle, and doubt with opting for beauty. They grapple with practicality because they believe it is expected of them, and they end up making compromises that incorporate a touch of beauty with a gloss of practicality, and that really ends up just being messy.
This is why, for me, shamanic practices, along with other forms of sacred work and ritual, are a critical medicine for us today. Art-making and the artistic world also plays a vital role in delivering the medicine of beauty – the probiotic against the death force.
Building a strong relationship with helping spirits is a crucial aspect of shamanic healing. Could you share more about your own experiences in developing these relationships and how they have influenced your work?
There are unending debates about what shamanism truly is, and the interpretations can be quite broad. However, in classic shamanism, the pivotal elements revolve around the relationship with one’s spirit guides. These guides serve as the wellspring of power, wisdom, healing abilities, and even physical well-being for the shaman. In a way, spirit guides can be likened to a doctor’s stethoscope—a tool that every doctor possesses and relies on. In the shamanic context, the relationship with spirit guides is not just desirable; it’s an essential aspect of the shaman’s practice.
It’s worth noting that in the Western world, we sometimes tend to make things more abstract or infuse our egos into them. Consequently, there’s a growing interest in finding one’s spirit guide or identifying their power animal as a way to feel a deeper connection to something greater or more significant. This is helpful, but the power of a spirit helper is in the depth of the relationship, and that goes beyond these initial encounters. Just like in human-to-human relationships, building a deep connection with spirit guides demands discipline, vulnerability, and true intimacy. To be honest, working with spirit guides requires that you accept the risk of appearing and acting crazy to others. That’s a line that most people don’t want to cross. For example, I leave offerings for the crows at the end of my driveway to bless them and thank them for working with me in my healing work. Anyone can do that, of course, but after I put the food down, I caw loudly and flap my arms. Why? Partly to let them know their food has arrived, but more importantly because it embarrasses me to think the neighbors are doing this. That energy of embarrassment is a form of sacrifice and offering that shows the crows I’m serious about this relationship.
In my personal journey on the shamanic path, which has spanned four decades, my encounter with spirit guides was quite spontaneous. I first became intrigued by shamanism and was on the lookout for a drum. By chance or fate, I ended up with an unconventional, large, Irish drum, made of oak – really heavy. It wasn’t at all the “usual” shamans drum, but it was the one that chose me. When I struck it the very first time, a spirit guide emerged and began working with me. He was a radically silly goat-man (the drum skin was made of goat hide). The work with that first guide unfolded organically over many years as he taught me how to see with the eyes of absurdity married to deep love for the world. He helped me cleanse ancestral poison, taught me to weep and dance crazily. It took great effort for me to constantly let my wall of doubt and fear down so he could work with me. Over time, other different spirit guides have stepped in, each contributing to my spiritual journey in unique ways.
In your book, “Healing With Shamanism,” you discuss the overuse and misuse of the term “shaman.” Could you provide some insights into why it’s important to approach this title with caution, especially in Western contexts?
This argument about the use of the word “shaman” is a hot topic, and I’m honestly a bit tired of it. The way this debate typically unfolds on social media is that someone will claim that only a specific tribe of people, like the Tungus in Siberia, should use the term “shaman.” Others then chime in, arguing that “shaman” is just a word and not exclusive to one group. This back-and-forth can go on endlessly, and it’s apparently a topic that people love to argue about.
In my view – and my personal experience – so often beneath the vitriol lies a sense of white guilt, and it is primarily white individuals who engage in these debates. They genuinely appreciate shamanic practices and want to be culturally sensitive, which leads them to focus on the word itself as they urge (or demand) that others not to use it. However, underneath the arguing is their own insecurity about their own power and authenticity. Like so often when people argue over abstract things, there’s usually a projection of one’s own fears onto other people.
I believe that if we could acknowledge this underlying issue of white guilt, the argument might lose some of its intensity. After all, “shaman” is just a word, and language evolves over time. It’s similar to how “Kleenex” became synonymous with any facial tissue, even though it’s a specific brand name. Similarly, “shaman” has become a catch-all term for a particular role, even though every culture has its own names for that role.
The history of the word “shaman” is rooted in European anthropologists’ interactions with the Evenk (later known as the Tungus) people in Siberia in the 1800s. They heard the “shaman” from the Tungus culture to describe this role, and, for better or worse, made it into a category that describes general things, rather than a title of great respect that comes after intensive and wrenching, difficult years-long work.
For me personally, and for the colleagues that I’m in contact with, we use the phrase “shamanic practitioner.” It’s a clumsy term too and a little clinical, but it recognizes that as westerners, we are not born into a shamanic culture, so to claim that that title can be appropriative. The phrase recognizes that we are trying our best to practice an art that is cross cultural, and that every human has access to. But really, does the creator of the universe, of life, of mystery and beauty really care about what word we use to describe ourselves? Personally, I’ve never called myself a shaman, and when pressed, prefer the term “worker.” I work with and for Spirit.
However, the word “shaman” has been reduced to a marketing term. Some individuals, even without proper training in shamanism, adopt it because they hope it will make them sound (and feel) powerful, special and marketable. In summary, the debate over the word “shaman” can be quite intense, but it’s essential to remember that it’s just a word, and its usage has evolved over time. The underlying issue often involves white guilt and the desire to appear more culturally sensitive. Ultimately, it’s a topic that people love to argue about, but it’s essential to consider the broader context and implications.
Can you share a specific example or case where shamanic healing made a profound impact on someone’s life, illustrating the transformative power of these practices?
I have had uncountable experiences working with clients, students, and in ceremonial settings where people’s lives have been profoundly transformed by the work. Not transformed by me, but by the work, by the grace of the Holy Ones. I don’t like to discuss significant successes with clients or students, nor do I post about them on social media. The reason for this is that I view the work as an intimate and sacred connection between the individual and the spirit world. I’m only a facilitator in this process, and I prefer to maintain a sense of humility.
With that said, I can acknowledge that I have been astounded by the profound changes that have occurred through my work with people. I’m inherently a skeptical person; I tend to doubt everything, even what my teachers have taught me. Whenever they share their wisdom, my initial reaction is often to roll my eyes and think, “Yeah, right.” I approach spiritual work with a great deal of skepticism and critical thinking. However, one of the remarkable gifts bestowed upon me by the spirit world and my spirit guides is the ability to suspend my skepticism when working with clients and students.
My constant engagement with clients and students compels me to set aside my doubts, self-deprecation, and skepticism. Most of the time, I am able to step outside of these tendencies, and this is when wonderful things can occur. Let me share an example that left me in awe: a young woman sought my assistance because she had been suffering from excruciating menstrual pain throughout her life. Although she didn’t explicitly mention this pain at first, it was the underlying reason for seeking healing. We engaged in what I considered to be standard healing work, nothing out of the ordinary. However, when she returned several months later, she shared that her menstrual periods were no longer agonizing. This astonished me because I am not a woman, and her condition was not at the forefront of my mind during the healing session. It is an illustration of how the work can manifest despite my own limits and preconceptions. My role is to open the container for healing and call upon the Otherworld to do the work. Healing work often unfolds in ways that I don’t expect, and that. in itself, has been my greatest teacher.
In the realm of shamanic healing, we are calling on the inexplicable – the powers beyond language, beyond our human smallness – a world of mystery that involves spirit guides, the Earth, the sky, the Holy Powers – the Mighty Ones as the Celts called them. We can call upon these powers, but, ultimately, shamanic work comes down to the restoration of beauty and sacredness. These are holy medicines, resurrecting energies. Many of my indigenous teachers have stressed that healing energy primarily revolves around the restoration of beauty in an individual’s energetic field, heart, and mind. It is this restoration of beauty that serves as the foundation for healing.
If you would like to find out more about Jaime Meyer, visit https://www.drummingthesoulawake.com/
