sha·man
Pronunciation: ‘shä-m&n, ‘shA- also sh&-‘män
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural shamans
Etymology: ultimately from Evenki (Tungusic language of Siberia) samAn
Date: 1698
1 : a priest or priestess who uses magic for the purpose of curing the sick, divining the hidden, and controlling events
I’m sore, sweaty, and half-naked. Took off my shirt outside and let the night air cool me down. Drove home that way. All the way, that word is in my head.
I was dancing alone. I don’t dance alone. I tango, waltz, polka, and jitterbug… but I don’t dance alone. Dancing has never been a “lonely” thing or an “alone” thing for me. At Gen-Con, I made a mistake. I touched another dancer in a goth club. Her name was Laura. Jared shook his head. “Dude,” he told me. “You don’t ever do that.” I paid my pennance, suffered for my ignorance. Only a little.
But I was dancing alone. And the rhythms were in my heart. I wasn’t dancing for anyone. Just for me. I’ve never done that before. Dancing alone.
This last year has been a year in the Wastelands. Trying to figure out who I am, where I belong. I spent the last seven years of my life believing I’d die in my wife’s arms, or be holding her when she took her last breath. That isn’t true anymore. How could that not be true. I believed it so much… I gave her all my power, all my magic. In that little ring. Now, it’s just a piece of gold, representing something that doesn’t exist anymore.
A year alone. In the Wastelands. Trying to find out where I should be going, trying to figure out if there is anywhere to go.
In Hermetic alchemy, the rose and cross are holy symbols. But not “rose.” The Latin “ros.” Which means “morning dew.” A symbol of purity. And not “cross,” but “crux.” Crucible. Transformation. Lead into gold. The old soul transformed into the new soul. The base into the pure.
Gen-Con was like a re-birth. So many things… so many parallels. Like my first Gen-Con. Born again. Born anew.
But I’m not a young man anymore. I’m older, a little wiser, I think. Dancing alone.
I read an interview with Alan Moore, talking about divorce. He said he enjoyed being alone. The prominent filter on my eyes tells me I should be a father by now. I’m not. I’m not even married. Not even dating.
Dancing alone.
The time sped by there on the dance floor. It was an hour at most. Maybe a little more — a little less. And I just danced. Because I wanted to. Not for anyone else. Just me. Pounding my feet on the floor, feeling my sweat in my eyes, my dry mouth, my shirt sticking to my back. Dancing alone.
But that isn’t right. I’m not a warrior. It’s close, but it isn’t right.
Campbell called myths our own Ariadne Strings, leading us through the labyrinth of life. We don’t need a priest to show us the face of God… we know the face of God. We have an inner guide, our own voice.
Percival has always been my favorite knight. Rescuing the Fisher King from his own wound, from losing the graal. “But, my lord, the Graal is right there,” he says. “You just had to know how to look for it.”
A year in the Wastelands. Percival can find the graal because he doesn’t know he should be looking for it. The Fisher King can’t see it because he’s looking too hard.
Dancing alone. It feels right. And sacred. And holy.
I kept telling
She said, “Of course you will.”
I kept telling
She said, “Of course you will.”
Dancing alone, a word came to my brain. The brain with a martini swishing around inside and the fever of non-stop ecstatic movement… and an image came into my head. The old man on the hill I went to see when I was still in high school. In his dark cave… the smells I didn’t recognize. We sat around the fire in the cave, and the fingers of the fire made shadows on the wall, and on the wall were paintings, and as the shadows danced with the paintings… he told us a story about Crow tricking the sun for fire. For fire. The fire. There was… something in the fire. The smoke. My head thick and swimming. The shadows on the wall. I could hear Crow and the sun.
And I knew, righ then and there, why that word was in my head.
Shah*mahn.
The one who has been on the path, who has seen the path. The one who guides through the spirit world, the dream world. Who knows secrets no one else knows. He cannot walk you through the vision quest, but he can show you how to start, and show you how to recognize the language of the dream world.
Holy man…
Story man…
Dream man…
… shaman.
Dancing alone with the shadows and the paintings and the fire.
I learned how to dance last night. Not dancing for a partner or for show. Just for me.
* * *
Oh… and AR!!!!