The Wailing Woman of the River: A Shamans Tale

The Wailing Woman of the River
A Shamanic Tale of Power
by Victoria Marina-Tompkins

The river had long been our place of solace and refuge. She was a magnificent river, an old soul river, winding her way through the canyons as she made her way to the ocean. She was not an ordinary river and the stories that sprang up each time we came face to face with her were both life changing and as ancient as the moon. She mirrored to us what we each held inside of ourselves. Remarkably, the mirror was there year after year, never changing, but only shifting and reflecting our internal stories. It was in fact a reflection of our process that she offered to us and the chance to make a leap into the unknown. We came willingly, perhaps with some trepidation, knowing that what occurred during our time there would change us again, for indeed that was the one thing we could be assured of.

We spent the first day remembering her ways. Delighted as we were to be with her, there was a childlike exuberance as we negotiated our way down the trail to the water's edge. Some laughing, giggling, telling stories about what had happened the last year, and who was here and who wasn't, and what direction we would head first. It was pretty easy to decide. West or East and you would stay on the river. Everyone always agreed that this was the beginning point although there was also often talk of walking the road to the redwood grove. Usually that walk came later, for the pull to the lady river was so strong that those thoughts were certainly put aside.

The ritual was always the same. Reaching the river we would each find a quiet place to greet her, to begin to let her magic touch us. From an outsider's view it probably looked pretty ordinary. They would see a woman quietly sitting with maybe a toe or part of a foot dangling in the water. If they listened closely they might hear singing.

During the following years we would remember this particular quest as the time of the wailing woman. That was really because we couldn't think of much else at the time, she appeared so suddenly. The year she came to us, it was the New Moon of the Vernal Equinox. I had said that this new moon was in Libra and that the energies were very powerful.  The weeks preceding the trip we had met in small groups and, after choosing partners, had made masks for the death ceremony."

I was so delighted to be with the River again. In fact, I would say that it felt like a home coming to me. My 'ritual' consisted of bringing her a gift that I had created before the trip. This year it was a rock that I had painted with the story from the year before. Even though it was a small rock, they were all there: the white crane, the flock of birds at dusk, the fire circle. And they were all positioned around the central figure. This year I was staying at base camp in support of the questing women, so it was important to complete my personal ritual before the evening circle began.

Sometimes I wonder if it wasn't during the death ceremony that the woman first noticed us. I mean, think about it: there we were, no one else around for miles, making such a commotion! We had built a small fire that would stay burning throughout the entire weekend, tended by those of us who stayed at camp. So there we were, drumming and chanting around the fire, and I have to think that she must have heard us. Even the sound of one drum could be heard resounding down the river, so imagine what all of us must have sounded like!

We had come to the circle in silence as the darkness enveloped us. Just like during so many years before, the first night of the quest began by sitting in silence, honoring the direction of the West. Our purpose for coming to this circle was to let go of what we no longer needed. The masks were a symbol of what we wanted to let go of and so of course were all different. Some were images of the lost and wounded child, the dutiful daughter, the power that had been given away. The images swirled and danced in the darkness: snakes and crescent moons, goddesses and spiraling rivers, tears, anger, and sorrows. All of these being given to the fire as part of setting our intention for our work at the river the next 2 days.

And so, on the evening went, the masks each danced and burned in turn. Every so often I would notice that there seemed to be an awful lot of spirit energy floating about. Actually, at one point early on, I had been rattling in the directions while walking a spiral path around the fire. Every so often I would stop and listen. I was deep in trance, and ultra aware of even the smallest movement around me. I would turn and look, as if I heard footsteps or detected something outside of our circle. I have to admit it made me pretty jumpy and the other women said they felt the same. I had to tell myself that it was all part of working with spirits and that indeed the veil between worlds could become thin. It took it out of the abstract and into the tangible, into the possible. Regardless, it definitely felt like we were not alone that night.

The following day on the river itself was pretty calm. About half of the women had set out early in the morning with the intention of finding a place to camp for the night. Once they had found their places, they would each make a purpose circle. This circle would represent many people and experiences in their lives and would also serve as a protective wall against unwanted energies. They were free to move up and down the river during the day but once nightfall came, they would set the last rock in place and prepare for their medicine work. The work itself was very individual and really part of the sacred agreement between the Spirit and each of them.

The day had gone pretty smoothly with four of us back at camp, as our job was to essentially hold down the energy for the rest of the group. I had walked up and down the river myself earlier, checking out where each woman had camped just in the case of an emergency. I also checked to see if the women had left their markers for safety at a prearranged place. The river was beautiful, serene, and as always, a powerful teacher. I knew that everyone would experience whatever it was that they needed to for that was the way of the river and of spirit.

I returned to camp as nightfall approached. The fire was still burning although it was on the low side because we wanted to conserve wood for the all night drumming. Everyone was pretty hungry and we soon had a small meal of beans and tortillas cooked on the Coleman stove perched on top of an old rickety table near the east end of the campground. Within a short period of time the light was waning, and we prepared for the long evening ahead, clearing the table and putting everything away, so as not to attract the attention of the resident animals who might come prowling for food later in the night.

We drummed well into the evening, and the fire burned bright that night. As is our usual practice, we focused on each of the questors, including doing a journey for each of them to check in and see how we might best support them during their solo time out on the river. As the time approached midnight, we took a short break to walk around a bit and stretch our cramping legs and arms, and to take a much needed rest. It was during this break that one of my most experienced students began to ask about ways of perceiving energy and a lively, energetic conversation ensued, discussing ways in which they could open more to the perceptions of spirit and to the medicine work. We talked about journeying, dreaming, solo medicine work at the river, and stalking. The questions wove in and out of the answers, blending both what had been learned through study and what had been directly experienced.

Returning to the circle, we began to drum again, but it was different. As we focused our attention on Rachel, the final woman who was questing and who would be receiving our support that night, the beat slowed to a steady heart beat or 3/4 rhythm. The sound echoed throughout the canyon as the women drummed together, sounding more like a heartbeat than the usual steady beat of the drums. I started to hum and then to sing the words which flowed from me:

Mother, hear me calling

Mother, hear me now 

Mother, hear me calling for you.
Mother, hear me weeping

Mother, hear me cry

Mother, hear me singing

Songs of sadness, songs of Joy.
Mother, mother, mother

Songs of sadness, songs of Joy.

I was so lost in the song, that I didn't notice the sounds coming from the trees behind me, nor did I notice that the women in the circle were leaning away from me with frightened expressions on their faces! I was a bit puzzled and I put my drum down to ask what was going on. They pointed behind me toward the trees. There, floating in the branches, was the shape of a woman! She was faceless really, but the form was clearly female and it was fading in and out. I only saw her for a few seconds, and later I thought that this was because my drumming and interaction with the spirit world was contributing to the energetic presence, so when I stopped she was unable to maintain the physical form. Later my students would tell me that they had begun hearing her when I was drumming, first a soft whispering and then a slow crescendo to a more audible sound. She was singing! Her voice was other worldly, rather etheric, a cross somewhere between a moan and a howl. But it was clear that she was interacting with us as we sang and drummed.

The group moved to one corner of the circle, in fact, the farthest away from me and the tree. I thought, "This is like one of those early Carlos Casteneda stories with poor Carlos scared out of his wits out in the middle of the desert with the allies chasing him everywhere!". I put down my drum and stood up, turning to face the tree. At that point she was beginning to fade, the last notes trailing off into the night. Two of the women went over to the tree and tried to clear the energy. It wasn't until months later that we would really learn what the message was that the woman was bringing to us. And it would be different for each woman who was present when she began to sing with us.

During the months that followed the quest we worked intensely with our 'guest' from the other world, attempting to discover the meaning of the experience. In general the group agreed on one primary point. They had been asking about energy manifestation that night and got a very vivid demonstration! This was a wondrous example of the spirit world working in tandem with ordinary reality. She had come to us as a teacher, to show us that we could set our intentions and receive what we were asking to learn about. There was also the powerful connection to the words of the Mother Song I had spontaneously created that night (along with the assistance of my Spirit helpers). The woman we had been drumming for was in fact working on deep mother issues at the time of the quest, and the grief and sadness expressed through both the song and by the wailing woman were a mirror of her personal quest work. The Mother Song also tapped into a deep well within each of us, both for our own mothers, mothering, and for the mother earth as well.

Looking back on this remarkable event, I am also reminded that music is universal and is one language of the worlds beyond the veil.

© 1996 Victoria Marina-Tompkins 

What Has Heart and Meaning

Listening to what has Heart and Meaning

A Shamanic Practice



The Shamanic practice of listening to what has "Heart and Meaning" follows the first practice of Showing up. Once you have become focused totally in the moment and are present, then turning your attention inward to your heart is the next step in the process of creating intention and right action in your life.

It is easy to be swept off course by the opinions of others, from what your family and friends think to the larger social opinions "du jour" which change almost daily. If we continue to look outside of ourselves for validation of our own perceptions, then we will continue to be influenced by others. This is not to say that paying attention to what others have to say isn't useful or valid; Rather it means that it is most beneficial to first look inside your own heart to see how YOU feel. Once you have more clearly understood your personal feelings and perceptions, then you will be ready to take the next step which has to with speaking what is true for you.

Shamanic Practice: Erasing Personal History

"Central to the practice of the shaman is the dropping of his personal history. Castaneda recounts that Don Juan instructed him to 'endeavor to erase my personal history by any means conceivable'. Dropping one's personal history means setting the axe against the root of the ego. Personal History is constantly renewed by telling parents, relatives and friends everything one has done, thus determining what is expected in the future. Not so the warrior; he drops the baggage of the past, he 'has no family, no name, no country', the expectations of others do not pin him down, 'he has only life to be lived'."   from The Wheel of Time book review by Ed Metcalfe


A core practice in contemporary shamanism is the Erasing of Personal History as introduced into the mainstream in the writings of Carlos Casteneda. During his apprenticeship with the Shaman Don Juan, Carlos was reminded of his own personal "stories" and the way they influenced the way he responded in his life.

From the time we are very young, we create personal stories based on our perceptions of events. These stories are just that, stories. They are not "truth" but are indeed our own creation of what happened and may differ from the way others perceive the same events. "You can't walk in another man's moccasins" might be a good adage here and a reminder that our experiences are our own and not necessarily the way others see them.

So long as we continue to reference our internal library of Personal History, then we continue to respond in ways that are based on the past and not in the present.  We can often identify when we are responding from Personal History when there is more energy in the interaction than what might seem "current". This could be an overreaction to what might be a small incident or comment from someone, an "ouch", or as large as a full blown depression or fear reaction. Beginning to identify these triggers can do much to help us in detaching from them and in the process returning to the present which is the Point of Power.


Photo Spiral Galaxy

4 Shamanic Healing Salves: Dance

To watch us dance is to hear our hearts speak.   Hopi Indian Saying



Dance or movement is the healing salve or medicine of the north.  Through the body we can focus our energies and become totally present, allowing as Angeles Arrien says for the Warrior archetype to manifest in the world, embracing challenges with intention and clarity. Many of us have neglected dance and the importance of movement in our lives.

Part of the reason we have forgotten is that many of us have social expectations about what dance "should" look like, what our bodies "should" look like. Telling us what is cool, hip, graceful, and beautiful. No wonder we shut down and stop moving! There are a multitude of messages in the world constantly reminding us that if we can't keep the beat, we should sit on the sidelines, keeping quiet, and simply watching others even if we long to move and express ourselves.

There are many ways to move from tapping feet, swinging hands, clapping, rolling necks, jumping, twirling, skipping, hopping, swimming, running, bending.

You can reach to the sky, touch the ground, roll in the grass, float in the ocean. Listen to nature and find the music! Or make your own..... So many possibilities.

Today find a way to move!

Shamanic Healing Salve: Silence

"In the sweet territory of silence we touch the mystery. It's the place of reflection and contemplation, and it's the place where we can connect with the deep knowing, to the deep wisdom way".

Angeles Arrien in The Millionth Circle


The Shamanic Healing Salve or "medicine" of the West is Silence. In modern times, we have in many ways lost this sacred and very important healing modality, lost to the rush, rush, rush of every day life. The busyness or business of our lives seem to leave little time for contemplation, for soul moments when we may listen to the voice of our own hearts. There are so many things to do as well as so many things to think about!

Indigenous cultures not only honor silence as part of their way of life, but they set aside time for silence with solo time in nature. From the time children are quite small, they are encouraged to listen to the sounds of nature without intrusion, learning the lessons of the cycles of life through the intrinsic changes of season which include birth, fertility, full flowering, decline, death, and rebirth. They watch and learn.

So many of us have forgotten the ways of peaceful silence.

In his haiku on silence, poet James Traverse says:

Silence speaks volumes

without uttering a word

nothing is unsaid

Take a few moment today to enjoy the sweet fullness of silence...

The 4 Shamanic Healing Salves: Singing

All Shamanic cultures hold as true that there are 4 World Healing Salves: Singing, Storytelling, Silence, and Dance. Throughout these indigenous cultures, Healing salves or Ointments are given an honored place in the community and not saved for special occasions as is often true in Western cultures. When practiced daily, the 4 Healing Salves help bring balance and joy to everyday life.

Singing, the "Medicine" of the East, is one which we easily hear from the children's playground. From the time children are small, they hum, laugh, sing little songs, and express themselves joyfully! In fact, most children will naturally express through song, impromptu rhymes, and stories while singing. Unfortunately along the way many of us heard that we "couldn't carry a tune" or "didn't sing well enough", dampening our creative spark and quelling our natural voice.

A question asked by one of my shamanic teachers is "When did you stop singing?" She said that it was at that moment we first lost our voice, experiencing soul loss and that now, as adults, we can reclaim a part of ourselves by remembering our favorite song from childhood and singing it out loud. I remember fondly and with great admiration the day she sang "Zippety Doo Dah" with enthusiasm as we all listened. What a joyful moment! She mirrored to us all how we can practice the healing medicine of singing and begin by reclaiming our own voice and joy. When we sing, others sing too.

Question: What was your favorite song as a child?

Detachment and the True Nature of Compassion

"Everything is equally unimportant" -Don Juan speaking to Carlos Casteneda

I remember standing in line at the bank in 1975 and reading The Teachings of Don Juan by Carlos Casteneda and unbeknownst to me at the time, a lifelong interest in shamanism was taking root. I was literally spell bound, reading word for word the saga of Carlos in the desert, usually making quite a fool of himself as he trounced along with his intellectual concepts which were often times met with uproarious laughter on the part of the wise Shaman Don Juan. It was during this read that I first came face to face with what I would later come to realize were lessons in detachment.

Most of us learn that being compassionate is understanding anothers pain which often includes helping to ease that pain, listening with rapt attention, and most importantly problem solving in order to create a "better" outcome for our friend. All in the spirit of helping of course! But what Don Juan is speaking to is that when we become entangled albeit with the best of intentions with other people's issues, then we lose our own vital energies. We can become tired, confused, frustrated, and even sorrowful. Understanding with compassion does not by nature imply that action need be taken, and in fact it may imply the exact opposite: being a witness to the joys and sorrows of our friends lives while respecting their personal space gives them the wonderful gift of compassionate detachment.

Viewing the world through the lens of detachment allows us to encourage choice. When we support others in making their own choices even if we do not necessarily agree with those choices shows respect and promotes equality. And, when we detach with love then we avoid the traps of fear which include control, manipulation, and anxieties. We can turn off our thoughts which are judgmental and very convincing, instead focusing on our hearts, opening to love while remembering that we cannot with certainty know what is right for another human being. It is then that we may experience agape or true compassion.