The Shamans of Ancient Mexico were tenacious in their disciplined effort to retrieve their energy and free themselves from the constraints of the social order. These shamans saw the social order as the indexing arm of the interpretive system of our minds, which is both inherited and reinforced through the process of socialization we are all born into. These preset indexing categories interpret and define our fixed reality and deprive us access to our full birthright—access to unlimited worlds of possibility.
The Shamans of Ancient Mexico discovered that our interpretation system is completely restricted by a biased obsession with self. This constriction manifests in a lifetime obsession with worthiness, attractiveness, lovability, ranking, valuation, and validity.
As a psychotherapist deeply engaged in the intent of healing, I realize that all of these human concerns are profound challenges that require examination and action if we are to free the self from their restrictive reach. I have benefited from the perspective and methodology of the Shamans of Ancient Mexico to free the self to move into its own deeper potential.
The shamans define discipline not as a compulsive commitment to self-improvement routines, but as a persistent and unbiased examination of the self. They suggest that we not begin our inquiry into the self with the question, “Why did this happen to “me?” To those shamans this question is likely to trip us into a victim index of interpretation with follow-up statements like: “It’s not fair!” “I didn’t deserve this!” “I’m entitled to _______!” “I’m so bad!” “I’ll never be good enough!” “It’s my fault!” These statements are likely to further drain energy by entrenching the self in a depressed mood of hopelessness, futility, and surrender. Of course many of these statements may have some validity. However, they tend to bias the self toward an entrenched victim interpretation of reality that can see no world of possibility beyond this fixation.
Examine what is… Photo by Jan Ketchel
The shamans suggest that we begin our inquiry into our lives with the questions: “What is the situation that I am in?” “What do I need to do to change it?” “What can I learn from the situation I find myself in?”
Beginning the inquiry from this different perspective avoids the trappings of self-pity or self-defeat that the why question is likely to trigger. Such unbiased examination remains descriptive and factual, freed of judgment. Such examination is objective, focusing on what is, not whether I’m good or bad for being in it, whether I’m being punished or rewarded, whether I’m worthy or unworthy, whether it’s fair or whether I deserve it, whether I’ll ever be loved, etc. Those kinds of judgments have no validity in an inquiry into reality that seeks only to know the true nature of what is.
From the perspective of what is, I can examine my life as a being born into a family of characters who socialized me within the greater macrocosm of the social circumstances of the time I was born into, further elaborating that socialization process. From this perspective, I can see the pitfalls of that socialization and identify the opportunities available for learning to extricate myself from the limits imposed by the experiences of that socialization process. From this ability to know reality unfiltered by the judgments of worthiness, fairness, etc., I can retrieve my energy previously encased in such judgments and engage in actions to free myself from the bondage of a constricted reality.
Change what is and become fluid… Photo by Jan Ketchel
From this linchpin, I enter the fluid possibility of expanded reality—a life open to fulfillment in unlimited possibility—beyond the why, into the what is of the infinite.
I really am in the final throes of editing my next book in The Recapitulation Diaries series: The Edge of the Abyss. For this week’s blog I post another excerpt, as I am conserving my time for editing. As the recapitulation proceeded I constantly discovered just how my inner process was leading me to learn what I needed to learn about myself. Guided by the intent of the process of recapitulation itself—its intent set long ago by the Shamans of Ancient Mexico—I was swept up in that intent, for better or worse, married to it. Though I often felt that I had married a monster, at other times I knew I had married a prince. In the end I discovered that I had been married to myself all along—if that makes any sense! I don’t believe this excerpt needs the same kind of warning as some of the others that I’ve posted. It’s really just about gaining valuable insight about the journey of life and moving forward with renewed intent.
“Look what I bring!” my child self says… Bottle art by Haldis. Photo by Jan Ketchel
From February 6, 2003: My son, sick with the flu and a 103° temperature, sleeps in today. I get my daughter off to school and contemplate what I woke up thinking about earlier this morning: shame, and the child inside me who continues to carry it around like a heavy boulder. I’m pretty sure the adult self let it go a long time ago, but the child self sneaks into the adult world at times still bearing this heavy burden. She plunks it down in front of me and says: “See! It’s still here.”
As I peer at this big boulder of shame that she drags around, I suddenly experience complete separateness from this child self, and with utter clarity I understand that she is the one who so tightly rolls into that fetal position every night. Clutching all the pain and shame, she’s still very much alive, residing somewhere deep inside me, while I—the adult—have gone on into life. I’ve grown up and done a lot of adult things, distancing myself from her as much as possible in order to do so. Now, I clearly understand that I went on so I could one day return to this moment, so that I could one day be in the position I’m in right now, intent upon rescuing the child self still inside me and, in so doing, rescue myself.
Until today, I’ve had such a difficult time seeing and believing myself to actually be more than one being, fearful of what it might mean about me, perhaps that I’m crazier than I thought. But only in acknowledging that I am many beings simultaneously will I be able to embrace the crystal clear insight that right now, in this moment, hits me: fragmentation is a valuable skill!
In one aspect of fragmentation, my fully present adult self is able to step outside the memories and from her perspective carefully and sensitively guide my child self. I see this as an evolving aspect of the recapitulation. I realize that in so doing I’m finally able to reciprocate what my child self once so protectively did, as she fragmented, repressing the memories in the process, so I could grow up. I’ve simply not been in a position to fully embrace this insight until now, but it’s very clear that fragmentation is an important tool that has a valid place in the healing process.
“I can do this now,” my adult self says… Photo and painted bottle art by Jan Ketchel
As I continue to hone the use of this skill, I imagine that all of my parts will eventually merge. As my adult self joins forces with my fragmented child selves—my sixteen little girl selves—and grants them each an opportunity to express themselves, they will no longer be alienated parts, separate from the whole. Once each part has told her tale and been fully acknowledged for both her pain and her bravery, another part will link into this healing process, another part offered the way home. Clarity and wholeness will eventually come, as new ideas and new perceptions about life in general and the past in particular are accepted and assimilated too.
It’s really the job of the adult self now to make all this happen, to introduce the guidelines, for only she has the wherewithal and the stamina to take on this monumental task. It’s what I’ve been preparing for. She must nurture and prepare each of the fragmented selves now too, make them welcome, and fully assimilate them into the inner circle of the new self. It can’t happen without a strong adult presence, a loving, respectful, and compassionate self. That kind of maturity is key to this whole process.
Breathe in the healing energy of the first morning light… Photo by Jan Ketchel
In an intense moment, in an out-of-the-ordinary experience, when I was at the beginning of my recapitulation journey, Jeanne Ketchel told me that this—recapitulation—would be my work now. At the time I took it to mean that all of my time and energy would have to go into my process of reclaiming my energy from my abusive past, until I was done. Later I understood this missive on a deeper level. She was actually telling me that recapitulation would be my work, period, now and in the future. And so it has become. What started as a deeply personal search for truth has evolved into a life’s work—on many levels.
Recapitulation is both what I spend my working life on and also what I spend my personal life on. My view of the world and life in general have been so greatly changed by my deep inner work, especially this process of recapitulation. I am not in the shaman’s world, but I found my way to a practice, a way of doing life that is deeply resonant. The Shamans of Carlos Castaneda’s line released tensegrity into the world, including the recapitulation, with the intent that it find its way to those who are energetically ready for it, ready for a way to change and evolve. It has helped me greatly to broaden my understanding of the world and my life in particular, and so I accept it into my life. In my own way I practice it daily.
When I met Chuck he had already understood that the world of the Shamans of Ancient Mexico offered certain techniques that could be utilized within a therapeutic setting. He saw how the recapitulation breath, the sweeping breath, mimicked the bilateral process of EMDR. He understood the value of recapitulation, not only as a deepening tool, but also as an agent of real change in a deeply transformative process. For the real process of recapitulation asks us to change ourselves so deeply that we shed all self-importance, so that we are more readily available to navigate life without fear, without feeling offended, without feeling special. If we are to experience all that life has to offer, Chuck discovered, we must do more than just manage our traumas and stresses, we must totally heal from them so that we may become receptive, constantly evolving beings.
As I work now to finish my second book in The Recapitulation Diaries series, I encounter my recapitulating self over and over again. I reencounter all I sorted through, all that held me captive, all that I struggled to shed. Insights blossomed the deeper I went into my inner world. As I took on the questions of my own ego or lack there of, I encountered and systematically dissected just what it was that held me captive and defended. The answer more often than not revolved around self-importance: that I was scared, that I was worthless, that I was afraid of everything, that I could not speak and break the pact of silence I’d upheld for almost fifty years. All of these things might not sound self-important, but they were. I discovered that any attachment to self had to be revealed for what it truly was and meant. And then even that had to be discarded. In regaining my energy from my abusive past, by taking it back from my abuser, I freed myself. I healed. That was the beginning.
Buddha sweeping away the veils of illusion, breathing in new energy… Photo by Jan Ketchel
The Shamans of Ancient Mexico suggest the process of recapitulation for everyone, as a path to freedom. They do not relegate it to healing from trauma, but as a means of healing ourselves of the world we have been raised in, taught to adhere to and trust. They suggest that only in facing the beings we became—through a systematic process of socialization that began the moment we are born—can we dismantle that old world and gain enough energy and perception to live differently in this world, while simultaneously learning what it means to be sober enough to enter other worlds with impeccability.
In order to begin taking this path to freedom, they suggest making a list of all the people we have ever encountered and then doing a new kind of systematic process, a process of recapitulation that involves investigating ourselves in every situation we’ve ever been in, within every relationship. In questioning why, how, and for what reason we got into certain situations—whether by choice or by force—we offer ourselves the opportunity to change. As we do deep inner work we begin to see our lives from a greater perspective. For even as we go deeply into minute details of who we are and why we are the way we are, we begin to gain a far wider view of life in general and ourselves as beings on an evolutionary path. Eventually, we ask ourselves: If I am here in this life facing this situation, what does it mean in the context of my soul’s journey? What am I supposed to learn so that I can evolve? In gaining a bigger perspective we gain meaning for our lives, our eternal life included.
The Shamans of Ancient Mexico suggest doing a recapitulation of our lists and then going back and doing it again and again. Each time we go back we discover more about ourselves and we also shed more of our self-importance. We gain a greater respect for the journey we’ve taken while we also totally let it go.
Once our past has been recapitulated, we also discover that who we have become since then must be recapitulated too. Who was I yesterday? What can I change in my life each day? What can I shed today that will help me to change and grow? Life requires this of us, as each day new memories come asking us to pay attention to the messages they carry to us. In the midst of my second year of recapitulation—even though I often hated doing the recapitulation process as I was constantly being dragged back into horrific memories—I understood that it was, as the Shamans of Ancient Mexico discovered, really a lifelong process. Once begun I knew I would be doing it my whole life, gladly. How could I not when I saw the value of it? I saw myself changing, felt my physical body changing, felt my very cells and my brain changing on a daily basis.
And so now, as I finish my second book, I am once again recapitulating. I breathe the sweeping breath over my old traumas, releasing them again. They no longer bother me as they once did, but still I breathe them out and breathe in new energy. As I breathe out the old self, even the new recapitulated self, I am aware that even that deeply changed self must not be attached to. I must breathe her out and turn toward new life and a new self yet again.
Can we suspend judgment and be open to what comes? – Photo by Jan Ketchel
A first. Jan emailed me her proposed blog for this week, an excerpt from her forthcoming book, The Edge of the Abyss. I say “a first” because generally Jan writes and publishes her blogs before I even know what they’re about. She rarely knows herself until she sits down to type.
As I read her proposal, I cringed protectively. I was concerned that the description of reality she was sharing would be too potentially triggering for those who might read it. It’s incredible writing, with deep value for those who choose to read the book, but I felt it needed to be wrapped in the protective warnings her books offer.
This protective cringing occurred the week before when Jan had published another excerpt from her book—I cringed for the same reason. And once we had discussed my concerns, Jan put a warning on the blog and on our Facebook post regarding the potential for triggers to those who are doing deep work in confronting their own traumatic events. And so perhaps there was a part of Jan that uncharacteristically decided to pass this new blog by me before electing to publish. Her own attachment to her personal experiences at this point is gone, her only concern now is to help people, to show them the way to freedom.
I’m reminded of Taisha Abelar’s cohorts* having to stop her from bringing her two inorganic being friends to an evening lecture at Omega in 1995. They were concerned about the potentially shattering impact that this broader encounter with reality might cause the members of the audience—a visitation from the fourth dimension, a dimension generally hidden behind the veils of the third eye. Taisha merely said, “Oh, really?” She hadn’t even considered the possibility, so used was she to their presence in her own life.
When I expressed my concern to Jan, she immediately agreed. Like Taisha, she simply hadn’t considered this concern, so deeply detached personally she finds herself from the world that once froze her in traumatic ice. Things that once horrified her no longer phase her. She matter-of-factly discusses them and moves on, no triggers.
When Carlos Castaneda advised that we suspend judgment to journey into the true nature of reality, into life beyond judgment, he was taking us deeply into accepting what is, freed from the parameters of what we find acceptable. Only in learning how to suspend judgment will our experiences in the world of true reality have deeper meaning and value. Recapitulation opens the door to fully knowing and accepting what was, however horrific, freeing the self to fully be able to encounter reality without the cushion or necessity of veils. Such was Taisha’s experience; such is Jan’s experience.
Someday spring will come… Photo by Jan Ketchel
Most importantly, however, is that we consciously decide to take the recapitulation journey. As Jan pointed out in her alternative blog this week: When we are ready we will know more fully what we need to know. Perhaps it won’t be this spring or this life, but spring will come, and new life will blossom.
As we discussed Jan’s proposed blog we decided to throw a coin, to let the coin decide. And so we asked infinity whether or not Jan’s first blog should be presented. “NO!” came the response. And so, without attachment, Jan acquiesced and went on to write something else.
The decision to read or not read Jan’s next book is a decision that people will have to make for themselves, in full awareness of the disclosure of the depth of truth to be encountered in its pages. The long awaited book arrives in a few weeks!
Suspending judgment,
Chuck
* Taisha Abelar and her cohorts Carol Tiggs and Florinda Donner Grau were the apprentices, along with Carlos Castaneda, of don Juan Matus.
I love this time of year, the end of winter, the first signs of spring. The birds are fast returning. We have bluebirds checking out the nesting boxes. The geese have been flying south, their travels etched across the sky in long arching Vs. We’ve noticed that the vultures are back too. Where they go during the coldest months I have no idea, but they are noticeably absent in the dead of winter. The daffodils are poking through the ground. The first chickweed is growing close to the house where we get the most sun. The deer that have overnighted in the woods at the back of the house all winter have moved on. We’ve sighted our neighborhood foxes, ready to start the mating process again. We expect to soon see baby foxes playing about as we do every year. And we’ve smelled skunk, a sure sign of spring!
In the dead of winter I began laying out bread crumbs for the birds, only occasionally. I didn’t want to start a new habit after spending so much time breaking myself of the old habits of a lifetime. I noticed that the crows were always the first to arrive. They’d take what they wanted and then the jays would arrive for second pickings. After that, the brave little juncos came and so on down the line. After about an hour there was generally nothing left.
I started to hear the crows calling at about 6:30 every morning, sometimes earlier. “Where’s our bread, Jan!” they seemed to be saying. “We’re hungry!” And so a little guilt crept in; now I felt I had to feed them. I knew our yard was only one stop on their daily rounds through the neighborhood, but I saw that they liked punctuality and that they actually depended on the meagre crumbs I put out. It was exactly what I was trying to avoid—being predictable. But these sentinels of nature, ever watchful, would not let me be so aimless and irresponsible. And so they call me out each morning, very loudly commanding that I contribute to their welfare, that I meet their demands.
We don’t actually eat much bread, so on days when none is available I scrounge through the fridge and pantry looking for something that might appeal. I refuse to buy commercial birdseed, with its chemicals and corporate intent. I believe in recycling. The other day I put out some sweet potato fries. “Thumbs up!” the birds said. “YUM!” Then I put out some stale tortilla chips. “Thumbs down. YUCK!” they said, and the pile of yellow corn chips lies there still. I’m sure that the Jehovah’s Witness who stopped by the other day and stuck a flyer in the door wondered just what that pile of chips—organic too—was doing there!
My observations of nature during winter lead me to write this blog today. I’ve noticed how beneath the snow there is vibrant life, energy gathering for the moment of emergence. When the time is right, the tulips and daffodils poke through the frozen ground, the wild onions pop up, and the first wild garlic-mustard turns toward the morning light. I was thrilled the other day to see just these signs of life as the snow finally melted in our yard. It got me to thinking about us, how the human condition is much like nature.
We too have something struggling to emerge…. Photo by Jan Ketchel
We too have lots of things inside us struggling to emerge, secrets waiting to reveal themselves, beauty waiting to blossom, desires waiting to be lived, repressed memories waiting for the right moment to be known. We too hold back until the time is right. Can I dare to be the person I truly am? Must I wait another season before I finally give myself permission to do this or that? How long can I hold back that which is stirring inside me?
Nature doesn’t think. Nature acts. Nature doesn’t hold back. Nature is in constant flux and change. Nature is constantly transforming even when we think it’s dead, in the dead of winter, frozen and covered in snow. So is our physical body like nature, constantly changing and transforming. Our cells slough off and regrow, our organs totally regenerate every few years, some quicker than that. We aren’t even aware of how like nature our bodies are. Without thought we are like the seasons.
There’s another part of us that lies inside the physical body, our spirit, and even deeper than that lies our soul. Inside this vehicle we call our body these two parts of who we truly are, our ancient reincarnated selves, lie waiting. More deeply hidden from our awareness than even the mysterious workings of our physical bodies, these parts go along with us as we face the world each day and go about our lives. But these are the parts of us that are like the crows calling, asking us to attend to them, urging us to become predictable and reliable sources of nurturance. “Wake up and feed us!” they say. These are the parts that lie below the frozen surface and wait for the warmth of spring. These are the parts that when we are ready will pop up and take us forward on new journeys of transformation and change, in both our inner and our outer world.
In recapitulation, these are the parts that emerge alongside our memories. These are the parts that lead us down the paths of memory and retrieval of self. These are the parts that teach us that we are all the same, that we are all beings of love and compassion. These are the parts that at some point in our spiritual evolution must become the most important aspects of being human. When we are ready we will know them more fully. When we are ready our own springtime will arrive. Until then, I suggest tossing a few morsels of sustenance, a few hellos, a few nods of recognition. “I know you’re there, I’ll be back someday soon.”
It’s okay to wait, but be aware that until the time is right for these parts to emerge and inform us of what we must learn about ourselves, preparations are underway. We may already have received many knocks at the door, asking us to venture deeper into our physical bodies and discover what’s there. We may have already been invited deep inside, gone down to our roots. We may have already gotten to our core issues and our core reasons for living this life we live now. We may have already done a recapitulation or be in the midst of doing it.
The real key to being human is that we are not really like nature at all. We have the ability to think, to reason, and to explore our inner world. We have parts inside us asking us to work with them, to make something happen that will transform us. We have free will, the freedom to learn how to enact our own transformation so we can be different, so we can live our lives in a new unpredictable way, yet fully in alignment with our true spirit and soul nature.
The crows of recapitulation will come calling… Photo by Jan Ketchel
And so, even if it may appear to be quite impossible that we could ever change our circumstances, we really do have the ability to choose how we want to live. We can choose to live as if it were springtime all the time. In fact, I believe this is what our spirit and our soul ask of us, to always be connected to them, to know them in the deepest way.
They ask us to not forget that they are what make us who we are, make us human, for they are the energy behind our human physical body. They ask us to be aware when the snows come, to be ready to thaw the ground and let our flowers blossom in spite of it. They are like the crows calling us to responsible tenure, to attend to these most important aspects of our human condition. It is here, in our spirit and soul selves being allowed to live, that we will truly evolve.
We will know when the time is right to answer the knocks on the door, either in this lifetime or another, but eventually we will all have to answer. We will all have to feed the crows of recapitulation, the spirit connectors that come asking us if we are ready yet.
Today the crows got bread! And my spirit and soul? They got to express themselves in this blog.
From the heart and soul of me, I wish you well,
Jan
