My first vision quest was both fantastical and at times akin to the theatre of the absurd. The vision quest is an integral part of Shamanic training. The preparation takes weeks of inner-work and self-reflection. I was prepared for the sacredness of the experience, but found myself completely unprepared for the profane aspects of my quest. Although my quest has had a lasting impact on the way I walk in the everyday world, what remains clear is that without a good sense of humor, we are incapable of knowing the deep secrets that lie within each of us.
August, 1992*
I am Martha Laughing Brook. It is dawn. The sun is just beginning to rise above the golden hills. As I sit up, I greet Brighid, Daughter of the Dreamtime. She smiles, climbs out of her sleeping bag and disappears towards the meadow.
I feel compelled to light the fire, which will burn throughout our quest. Having carefully laid the wood teepee style, it ignites with ease and is soon burning brightly, warming the chilly dawn. The fire fascinates me and makes me feel that somehow I am helping the others with their own quests.
Now it is time to pack up my stuff. I have chosen to leave my tent, my boots, and food behind. The water I am carrying makes the back seem heavy, but I know that it will lighten as I drink it.
Lois, Healing Tree, and I are meeting with Abigale Morningstar at 7:30, so I must quickly bid a fond and loving farewell to all my sisters. I realize as I walk down the hill that I am sad that I have not been able to say good-bye to Analise.
We make our medicine circle with rocks and magpie feathers and pinecones. We pray for guidance and enlightenment and set off in our different directions. I follow the river downstream and they go upstream together. I shall miss them.
The huge white crane swoops overhead. I will follow him.
I walk past the swimming hole where we had our circle the previous afternoon. The opposite shore would be nice, but I think that maybe others will want to swim, and I do not want to be in view.
I walk in the river. It is cool and gazillions of little fish and round tick-like things surround me. I cross the river and walk on the shore for a while. It seems easier to walk in the water. As I investigate another spot, the wind comes up and I begin to sing Spirit of the Wind (Williams, 1993).
Spirit of the wind, carry me.
Spirit of the wind carry me home.
Spirit of the wind carry me home to myself.
This is incredible. It is so quiet and beautiful. I feel like crying. I am suddenly overwhelmed with an outpouring of emotion.
Spirit of the ocean, depth of emotion.
Spirit of the sea, set my soul free.
Spirit of the wind carry me.
Spirit of the wind carry me home.
Spirit of the wind carry me home to myself.
Spirit of the storm, help me be reborn.
Spirit of the rain, wash away my pain.
Oh, my God! It’s pouring down rain. If feels so good! I start to laugh, and wonder why I didn’t bring my tent!
Spirit of the sun, warm light healing me.
Spirit of the sky, spread my wings and fly.
Spirit of the wind carry me.
Spirit of the wind carry me home.
Spirit of the wind carry me home to myself.
As I move on through the water, I realize how incredible the river is. I want to spend a lot of time in it, and must find a camp beside it.
Spirit of the river, blessed forgiver.
Spirit of the shore, show me more and more.
Ho! Another swimming hole. Perfect. There is a large rock jutting from the middle of the river with ferns growing on it. A deer path seems to come down the hillside to the river. I put down my pack, take off my shorts, and wade into the water to see how deep it is. The swimming hole appears to be about 10 feet deep.
Spirit of the wind carry me.
Spirit of the wind carry me home.
Spirit of the wind carry me home to myself.
As I climb aback onto the shore, the sun is beginning to peek out from behind the trees. I pull the tarp from my pack and spread it out on the rocky beach. Then I take my walking stick and stand it up from a rock base to mark the East, the gateway to my circle.
Spirit of the earth, help me with my birth.
Spirit of the land, hold me in your hand.
I carefully mark the directions and cast a purpose circle. I find myself calling on multiple traditions for protection and guidance. It is a wonderful reminder that ours is a cross-cultural tradition.
Spirit of the wind carry me.
Spirit of the wind carry me home.
Spirit of the wind carry me home to myself.
I am now settled within my circle. It would be wonderful to sleep, but I am wide-awake. What should I think about? What visions will I find? The inner dialogue begins to fade.
Suddenly, the silence is broken. “It’s 10:38,” I hear. Two noisy women are appearing from the deer trail. My space feels invaded. They seem to respect my silence and go in the opposite direction. I am annoyed. I thought this was private property. I decide to drum.
Oh, no! Another woman. This one wants to talk, and likes my drumming. I get the feeling that she needs to have me speak to her. She needs to hear the drum. I drum and she sits outside my circle in silence.
It is so hot. I strip off my clothes, save my swimsuit, and plunge into the swimming hole. It feels good. Soon the woman is naked and swimming too. By the time I get out, the other two women have joined in. Now, I have two naked women who are reasonably skinny, and two reasonably fat women in swimsuits.
Bodies. The conversations about weight, food addictions, and beauty all converge in my brain. As I watch the women in the river, I realize that even the skinny ones are not the epitome of Vogue magazine. Actually, the heavier woman is one hell of a lot sexier to me than the thin ones. I find it fascinating however that she, like myself, has not shed her swimsuit, and for probably exactly the same reasons.
This is fucked. I hereby resolve to let go of all food addictions. I will not put any of this [weight issue] garbage on my children. The human body is beautiful in its true form. Each form is different, and I defy anyone to tell me that I must look a certain way, or have a certain shape, or that I can only weigh a certain, unreasonable amount.
I realize that it is time to pull out my watch and look at the time. It must be close to noon, and I must get back to the medicine circle by one o’clock. Another lesson. Trust. I know that I must leave my pack, my drum, and all my stuff here. I do not know these women. They are questing like me, but in another way. I have to trust. OK, fine. I must get ready to go. No one will cross my circle.
Wow, they are leaving. The woman who likes my drumming is walking across my circle. She is offering me flowers, rocks, and seeds. I take a single seedpod. She thanks me. I feel strangely as though I have done something for her.
I close my circle and head back upstream. It took me an hour to arrive here, so I will try not to waste any time.
There’s Ann. She is the only person I have seen from our tribe. I wave and smile a smile of fond wishes. God! I do love her!
As I round the next bend, I see Jenny on the opposite shore. Can I be here already? Surely not. I haven’t been walking for more than twenty minutes. I find the circle and leave my crystal for Abigale. As I pass Jenny again, she speaks to me. Oops! I thought we had to remain silent, but I guess if she speaks to me first, Great Spirit is not going to come down and strike me dead!
I tell her about the women. It was nice to have human contact. Funny. I didn’t consider the women to be human. I become acutely aware of how bonded I am to the group. I feel an overwhelming sense of love and affection.
There’s Ann again. Maybe if I get scared, I can sneak back and spend the night with her.
I’m back in my circle. Everything is untouched. Now for a nap. No nap. Every time I close my eyes, I see demons. Strange demonic faces peering at me. Flashing faces, laughing, screaming, howling faces. I don’t think I am supposed to sleep.
There is Healing Tree. She is so beautiful as she walks past. I wish she would acknowledge my presence, but I know that she is honoring the silence. She stops not far from me and raises her hands to the sky. I can see a brilliant aura of connection with spirit.
Another intruder. A man with tennis shoes in one hand and a cigarette in the other. I pull my swimsuit straps back up. What for? This very dark, hairy beast could be an axe murderer or rapist. So what? I’m helpless woman in a bathing suit, a fucking mile from anyone else. I feel him watching me. Shit. Okay, Martha, get it together. If all else fails you can turn into a wolf and run like hell. He said, “Hello.” He doesn’t’ really look like an axe murderer. I suppose he’s just enjoying the river. After all, this isn’t my river. I don’t own it. It belongs to all my relations. Even dark hairy ones.
Again??? I must be at some trailhead. Two more men have come to use the swimming hole. They see me, and one thinks they should leave. The other reminds him that this is the only swimming hole and that it is very hot right now. OHMYGOD! I now have two naked men swimming in front of me. One is fat, and one is skinny. Another lesson in bodies, and in trust. I am lying here wrestling with my own fears, and they are discussing overcoming theirs. Well, I guess that eliminates that one.
As I decide to peek at them, I realize that both men are beautiful regardless of their shape. Once again, the essence of their spirits is far more radiant than the physical form. As they leave, I am given food for thought. The one man explains to the other that life is too serious to be taken seriously.
It’s getting very windy. It must be around five. I am tempted to get the watch from my pack. I don’t want to. Oh, hell yes, I do. I’m right. It’s after five.
Oh! Here’s the crane that led me here! Oh, great. He’s having dinner. He’s going to make me watch him eat his dinner. I wasn’t hungry until now. Maybe if I took my stuff bag, I could net enough of those little fish to eat. I could skewer them and build a fire to roast them. It would take five thousand to make a meal. Never mind.
I swear that I just saw a bald eagle.
This whole thing is starting to seem ridiculous. I am sitting in my sleeping bag and down jacket, and it’s not even six o’clock. I have been here all day watching trees and animals, and I’ve had no visions. I’ve been swimming in the river, and watching birds, and I have not had a shamanic experience. This is STUPID!
I want a hot bath, a soft warm bed, and a fire. I don’t want to do this anymore. Why the hell did I imagine that I could spend the night alone on a mountain with no tent, and no food, and no fire? That’s it. I’ll go back to camp and give myself up. God, I am feeling so sarcastic! I hate this. I do not belong here. I am not native to this. I want to go home.
Finally sleep!
It’s about eight now. Twilight is approaching. Suddenly, nothing matters. There is nothing but this moment in time. I am alone, and I am at one with the universe. It is beautiful here.
I am so glad for the down jacket. It’s freezing along the river, and I have had too much sun. The wind is very strong now.
It is finally getting dark, about eight-thirty, I guess. I am hearing whispers. It’s as though the trees are talking. I see shapes in the dark leaves. They are alive, and I am in their care. Two deer approach from the other bank of the river. They see me, but they don’t seem to mind that I am here.
Suddenly I am aware that I am seeing things through my soft vision. I see light images, rather than hard physical shapes. I guess I am really tired and my eyes may be a bit sunburned. My exposure to the constant sun has left me a little burned and very cold.
Holy shit! What was that? Probably the deer. The rocks seem to be crashing around me. Oh, fuck. Now it’s above my head. Where is my flashlight?
Yes, the deer are closer to me on the rocky shore. Uh oh. In the woods on the hill above my head are two huge eyes. It’s not clear what they belong to, but they are definitely of the feline variety. I saw cougar dropping earlier. Oh, no. There is probably a huge, cougar, which is really hungry out there.
It’s dark. More noise. Footsteps. Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph! What the fuck am I doing here? There are probably axe murders around here. Isn’t this one of those strange places where hippies and ex-convicts come to grow dope?
I remember stories about bears mauling campers in the National Parks. It’s been a dry year and there probably is not a lot to eat. I am fat and juicy. Oh, great. They’d love me for dinner. I don’t believe this.
If I leave everything here until morning, I can probably find my way to Ann’s campsite. I think she brought her tent. Even if I slept outside, at least I’d be close. I wonder if she could hear me if I screamed. Probably. The wind is blowing in that direction.
What ever possessed me to leave my tent in the car? What moment of sheer stupidity led me to believe that I could do this? I HATE THIS!
I have to deal with this. Calm down. All right. I am sitting up in my sleeping bag shouting at the noises. “I am here! I am in your space. I am not moving. You will have to find another way to get to the river.” I rattle briefly.
Sleep…dreaming… “Oh, by the way, your name is Firewalker.”
Holy shit! What time is it? Three-thirty. What the hell does that mean, “Your name is Firewalker?” If it’s the same messenger that brought Jenny her name last year, he must be having a good laugh. Firewalker. What am I supposed to do with that name? All right, so Analise asked me if I ever wanted to firewalk, and I said, “Yes.” That was last November. Shit. Now I guess I have to do it, don’t I?
Firewalker? It sounds too much like Luke Skywalker. Great. I just can’t escape those theatrics, can I? Oh, well, I can’t walk away from this one.
Dreaming…Sue and Jim are arguing over stamps…no over Mother. I must go pick her up. She’s at her new day care home with that lawyer…There are kids playing in the street. How did I get to Woodbury, PA? Why is there a Little Tykes® train track running down the middle of the street? “Little girl, get that train out of the car lane! You’re going to be killed. No, sir, I didn’t mean to interfere. I didn’t know it was okay for her to do that…” Look a hamster cage. It has Tupperware® lids on the plastic tubes. Oh, someone left it open…oh my God! “Go away you, tarantula! Get it off me!” I can’t brush it off. It wants to crawl on me. If I can get to that window, I can brush it into the street below. Oh, shit. They can jump. It’s jumping back onto me. Okay, go ahead. Kill me. It’s crawling down my arm. It’s going to bite. It’s sucking on my finger. It likes me…
It’s five-thirty. The crane just flew over my head. Oh! I survived! I did it! I am alive! Isn’t life incredible? I just spent a night alone with no tent, no food, no fire, and I am alive! This is incredible! I must go for a swim and thank the river. I must thank the trees, the animals and I must thank myself!
I have learned that I can spend the night in the woods and survive! I have learned that life is not so serious! It’s FUN! I have learned that distractions, be they human, four-legged, fish, birds, reptiles, or bugs, do not prevent people from finding themselves. Only our perceptions do that. We are what we perceive. Life is what we perceive it to be. I have learned that the human body is not ugly. It’s true and natural form cannot be dictated by some fashion magazine. We are all different, and we are all beautiful.
Isn’t life incredible? Now I must journey back to camp. I can’t wait to share my life with the others. God! I am so happy to be a part of a larger consciousness.
I am Firewalker, and I am alive!
The vision quest process changed me, even if clear memories lie still buried beneath the surface of my everyday awareness. The things that stand out are the the feeling of a strong community, and the feeling that I am stronger and more self-assured as a result of having spent a night alone in the woods. In addition I felt at peace with nature and with myself, and over the years, I have learned to return to those feelings by going out for a walk, by sitting on the beach or under the stars. I believe that the experience of the vision quest helps sustain anyone who engages in it, and the memories of the River, and the sky, remain in the soul.
As an after thought, it was one year to the day that I was given the name Firewalker, that I did my first and only firewalk. It is now over twenty years later, and I still feel the lessons of that quest, especially the knowledge that nothing and everything is sacred.
*This story was originally published in Brumbaugh-Jacobsen, M. (2006) Out of the Mists: An Organic Inquiry into Sacred Ways of Knowing and the Shaping of Reality. (Doctoral Dissertation. California Institute of Integral Studies). UMI/ProQuest. UMI #3218530.
Martha Brumbaugh, PhD is an educator, writing coach, artist, and ceremonialist. She is the Academic Dean at Emergent Studies Institute, which encourages and cultivates individual creativity, community co-creation, and attentiveness to individual learners. She received her doctorate in Transformative Studies from the California Institute of Integral Studies in 2006. Her doctoral dissertation, Out of the Mists: An Organic Inquiry into Sacred Ways of Knowing and the Shaping of Reality, focused on the impact of cross-cultural Shamanic practices on white, middle-aged, middle-class women. She has mentored women and men on academic and spiritual paths since 1988.
In addition to her responsibilities as Academic Dean, she teaches at ESI and works as a writing coach. She writes a column for Culture Counter magazine at http://culturecountermag.com. She has taught earth-based spiritual practices, shamanism, Tarot, and sacred arts and crafts individually and through workshops. Her background in literature creates a connection between the non-rational and rational thinking. She has used the fictional works of Marion Zimmer Bradley, J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Starhawk, Margaret Atwood, Terry Brooks and others to demonstrate how fantasy influences daily life. Martha’s current research includes ways in which transformation is facilitated through fantasy and science fiction in both film and literature. She is also working on a Mary Magdalen project, as well as striving to develop cutting-edge research methods.
Martha lives on the California coast with two cats, two ravens, and her sister. She has two adult sons, and recently became a grandmother. She loves cooking, reading, and film. She also loves to travel and experience other cultures, through history, architecture, and mythology.