I want to ignite a light for those who are not able to do it themselves.

For those who are caught in darkness so deep that they cannot see the light.

For those who are unable to even try.

For those who are not believed.

For those who do not believe themselves.

For those who are hidden so deep in the darkness that we do not see them.

I want to ignite a light for those who face up to the darkness.

For those who gather the courage, however horrible it may be.

For those who stand in the circle and hold that what needs to be held.

For those who open their hearts.

For those who decide for life, in spite of everything.

For the world.

There are stories that are simply unspeakable; stories that, if they were a screenplay, would be rejected out of hand as far-fetched; stories that are so close to conspiracy theories that they simply cannot be true. And yet they are true.

And if these stories are true, then the people in them are real too, the ones to whom these stories happened. To whom terrible things were done, and who may also have been forced to do terrible things to others. Whose souls may have been so shattered that nothing but madness remains.

I don't know why such stories reveal themselves to me – and not just reveal themselves. I feel them in my body, and layer by layer, the emotions connected to them unfold. Fragment by fragment, splinter by splinter, the picture is being completed. What I do know, however, is that precisely this is my task: to find these fragments and splinters and put them back together again. To feel and to bear witness. “Perceive and pass on,” my spirits have said.

And at the end of this process, there can really only be one outcome: a conscious decision to choose life. Yes, I know. So many times before have I made this decision, went all the way to the brink of death, only to do the most important thing: return. Over and over again, in many different contexts. And now, once again? Despite the unspeakable things that have happened? In the knowledge that the horror, the pain, and the grief are an indelible part of it? Yes.

Because that is exactly what brings light into these dark corners.

And we need so many of these lights, “so that a subtle network may be woven around the globe, bringing healing into the bodies, the hearts, the souls, and thus peace to the world.”

But we also need something else: circles that help to hold these stories, people who listen with open hearts and who do not turn away — humans who with their presence make it possible for the unspeakable to be spoken after all.

I was fortunate that such a circle gathered last weekend in (how fitting!) the “House of the Wolf,” and I was able — and had to, for my own sake — share at least part of the story with and within this circle. I felt their consternation, and our tears flowed together. They believed me. The circle, the community, helped me make this decision for life.

And quite unexpectedly, this brings me back to my thoughts on loneliness. Perhaps sometimes shamanic (and related) work and loneliness seem to be connected; I remember my former shamanic teacher standing by a fire in utter loneliness, and I remember his unfulfilled longing for a real community. But it is at least equally true that it takes a “tribe” to truly achieve healing.

(Winter 2023)