Who Holds the Healer?

Fire Ceremony

This weekend, as we moved towards the Autumn Equinox, I gathered with my shamanic family.

Around twenty shamanic practitioners from across Ireland, coming together as we do at each turn of the Wheel, marking the changing seasons and giving ourselves the space to shed, heal and reconnect.

There is something very special about being together.

The fire cracking.

The drum beating.

The conversations.

The silence.

The laughter.

The moments where nobody needs an explanation because the people around you understand this work from the inside.

And perhaps most importantly, for a little while, none of us has to be the one holding the space.

We get to be held too.

The people holding space need somewhere to put things down

When you work closely with people, you are constantly meeting energy.

Every client who walks through the door carries a story.

Every healing session brings emotion.

Every circle we facilitate asks us to be present.

Every person who sits opposite us deserves to be met without us bringing the weight of everyone who came before them into the room.

That is why I believe there is a responsibility in this work to continually come back and tend to ourselves.

Not because we are somehow taking on everything that belongs to another person.

But because we are human.

We listen. We witness. We feel. We hold space.

And that leaves an imprint.

If I am asking someone else to release what they have been carrying, I also have to be willing to look at what I have been carrying.

If I am encouraging someone to slow down and listen to their body, I need to listen to mine.

If I am creating spaces for people to reconnect with themselves, I need spaces where I can reconnect with myself too.

For me, weekends like this are part of that.

They are self-care, yes.

But they are also part of the integrity of the work.

Hollowing the bone

There is a teaching within shamanic practice that I return to again and again:

Hollowing the bone.

For me, it is the practice of clearing ourselves so that we can become a cleaner vessel for the work that moves through us.

Less ego.

Less holding.

Less of our own noise getting in the way.

We shed what no longer needs to be carried.

We return what isn't ours.

We make space.

Because the clearer the vessel, the more clearly we can listen, feel and hold space for another person without making their healing about us.

And this isn't something you do once and suddenly you're "clear."

We are constantly living.

Constantly experiencing.

Constantly changing.

Which means we need to continually return to ourselves.

To clear.

To ground.

To reconnect.

To remember.

The turn of the Wheel

There is something powerful about doing this work alongside the seasons.

Nature doesn't cling to one version of herself.

She changes.

She releases.

She becomes quiet.

She begins again.

Autumn, in particular, reminds us that releasing isn't always a sign that something has gone wrong.

Sometimes letting go is exactly what is supposed to happen.

The trees don't apologise for dropping their leaves.

They don't question whether they should hold on for another few months just in case.

There is a wisdom in knowing when something has completed its season.

And sitting with my shamanic family this weekend, I found myself thinking about what I am ready to stop carrying into the next one.

Old energy.

Old expectations.

Old versions of myself.

The things that once served me but don't belong where I am going.

We cannot continually pour out

This is something I see far beyond healing work.

I see it in mothers.

Leaders.

Teachers.

Carers.

Business owners.

The people everyone turns to.

The ones who organise, fix, support, listen and keep everything moving.

We can become so accustomed to holding everybody else that we forget to ask a very simple question:

Where do I go to be held?

Because being strong doesn't mean being endlessly available.

Holding space for others doesn't mean abandoning yourself.

And giving doesn't mean continually pouring from yourself without ever returning to replenish.

Sometimes the most responsible thing we can do is step away, clear the noise and come back to ourselves.

This is the work too

I often talk about the Embodied Energy Method™ through the stages of Regulate, Release, Reconnect, Realign and Radiate.

This weekend reminded me that those aren't stages we graduate from.

They are places we return to.

Again and again.

We regulate when life becomes loud.

We release what has accumulated.

We reconnect with ourselves.

We realign with what feels true.

And from there, we can radiate from a place that feels much more honest.

For me, gathering with my shamanic family is part of that return.

Sitting around a cracking fire.

Feeling the earth beneath my feet.

Hearing the drum.

Sharing space with people who understand why this work matters.

Shedding another layer.

Hollowing the bone.

Coming home a little clearer than I arrived.

And perhaps that is the reminder for all of us at this turn of the Wheel.

You don't have to wait until you're exhausted to put something down.

You don't have to carry everything simply because you are capable of carrying it.

And you don't always need to add something new in order to grow.

Sometimes growth looks like releasing.

Sometimes healing looks like making space.

And sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is become quiet enough to ask:

What am I ready to stop carrying into the next season?